It is the month of my birth, I say this as I could not tell you the exact day. Only my mother could tell you that, and she's long gone. Along with all of my family. It crosses my mind as I sit with the Spymaster, the Captain's daughter. Her lover. I sit on the fence, listening to each side of the argument. Both have merits, the proponents of greater action and the one opposed to it. Bree-land would not miss these scum, yet to eliminate all that do wrong would take many long years. You cut off the head of a beast and another arises to fill his boots. No one recalls my father now, though he was feared in his time. Following his death, another head sprouted. Yet, I think conflict cannot be avoided of a larger scale if I continue to pursue this course. Am I selfish? Am I using these folks for my own purposes. Putting them at undue risk. We must gather intelligence, find out more than we currently know before striking.
I am thankful to the Spymaster for the loyalty he has shown me. Even when his love betrayed me. Unexpected as it is, I do not know what it is I have done to endear myself particularly. I mostly keep to myself.
Eleven long years I have now been in the Bree-lands, most of those years have I likely spent my birthdays alone. As I have Yule. I likely will this year. Yet these men, the Captain's daughter. For all their differences. For all the bickering I just had to endure. They lay their swords, each of them at my side. Willing to put themselves in harm's way to help my cause. Even in one man's case where he doesn't even have a united household on the matter.
My mind is also on the Variag, has she made any progress? I wonder, the Captain's lover suggested infiltration. Little do they know I'm already working on the matter. I will not mention her to them, I cannot betray her ruse as a trader and nothing more under any circumstances. If I am to trust her in good faith, then she must be able to trust me.
I know she has no conscience. I suspected given my revelations by the road-side where I revealed I had once intended on killing her she would be the death of me. I laid myself bare, vulnerable. Quite willingly. I ceased to care anymore. Those long and lonely nights in the Forsaken. I did not honestly know if I would wake up the next day. At least death would have come in the form of beauty.
By the code I have always had I could quite easily justify her murder. She must know that. Yet I like her, and she is useful. And she is loyal. But she did kill her master. I unlike him have no intention of trying to constrain her freedom. She may choose. I would have ran away with this woman once. Abandoned everything, the mother of my child. My daughter. She did not display horror at the description of my killer instincts. Instead, she readily accepted them. She did not threaten to turn me into the Watch that night in the Inn, as the shield-maiden of Dale once did. For she understands me.
I had intended to travel the land with her then, go south to Gondor. Before all this... distraction. She may grow tired of it, I will have to see where I stand. When she returns from her journey north.
However I am also dabbling with the notion of going on without her, she may decide she wishes to stay now. That she has reason to. The mysteries of that exotic beauties' mind are beyond even me sometimes.
If I do go to Gondor still, if I do not come back. What of the faith of these friends I have found myself with. Of the efforts, the risk they have put in to fulfill my vengeance.
I do not know, I will cross that bridge when I get to it.
I have been tiding my days by in the company of Firefly when not obsessing over present matters. Her sweetness, her purity. It warms my heart. Yet I fear there is also a naivety there. But men and women must be free to make their own mistakes. It's the only way we learn. I feel the strangest of urges, I wish to wrap her up. Shield her from the extremities of this cruel world in which we live. However, like the fireflies themselves soaring out to freedom in the dead of night. You cannot constrain them. I fear she is suffocating under the weight of her brutish sister. Yet what business is it of mine? I do not know, those smiles. They draw me and yet I do not want this. The best of intentions end up in tragedy. As I have long since learnt myself. There is some wisdom to her friend's words.
I just want... to be alone. Now.
But I shut my eyes still and I see my flower. I must get inside her house. She must have left me something, some clue. I cannot rest, I cannot sleep a wink despite the best of intentions until it is done.
Eleven long years, indeed. At the tender age of only twenty four winters, I am exhausted. I fear sleep now must soon take me whether I will it or not. But on the morrow. Yes, on the morrow. I will go.
