On the road from Starkglen to Arrowhaven, Sarnai loosened her grip on her mount's reins and let her mind wander, allowing the horse to slow to a leisurely walk. Only recently had she walked more than twenty paces from the Warhorse Inn, riding north to Evendim in pursuit of a wounded acquaintance, and in the company of a new one. Perhaps it was his words that kept her, the terrifying prospect of being left all alone in the world, but the more she thought about it, there was less to fear. After all, Sarnai had spent many months with a horse as her only friend and company. Then there was the tranquility came with being alone, one unrivaled by any other situation. If she had something to do with her time, she could stave off the thoughts that creeped in at the corners of her mind.
Angelnarth had returned! She knew not what took him far from Arrowhaven for so long, or why he was wounded, but the one she had come to see as her own kinsman had come back to the inn. In retrospect, she had acted unwisely, running up to him and telling of the events in the weeks of his absence. It would have been best to keep them to herself, even if he trusted her. What good would come of an eager tongue when she did her best work in silence? Shaking her head, Sarnai rode on, turning a corner and continuing along the cobbles.
Then she had followed him to Starkglen, she recalled, to Iriys' home, for his wounds to be treated and for her supply of whatever draught it was that banished the dreams to be replaced. Iriys was another that Sarnai regarded as part of the family that, it seemed, she was beginning to slowly piece together. Her first friend in Eriador, a land Sarnai still regarded regard as strange and unfamiliar, Iriys had never failed to lend her aid when it was needed. Almost never failed, Sarnai amended. When she had been sent to collect water, Sarnai had waited outside the room in which Iriys and Angelnarth spoke. Unsurprisingly, the young Easterling was the topic of conversation. While, she admitted, some of what they said was flattering, she could hardly consider it polite to send her away only to speak of her, and the way they spoke- she thought of it as rather condescending, as one speaks of a child or some other person of close bond but lesser station. Sarnai had silently cursed herself when the water she bore revealed her presence, and when Angelnarth asked her of her bow and quiver, it came as another barb, a reminder of how foolishly she had acted in the past weeks and what she had lost as a result. While they must have meant well, the two Sarnai had come to trust with her life spoke of her as needing their help. What was wrong with her, then?
Afterward, Iriys had refused to renew Sarnai's supply past what was given that day, saying that her refusal was needed for the sake of their friendship, and for Sarnai's life, claiming that Sarnai took too much of it. What harm was there in sleeping? As she dismounted from her horse and removed the mare's tack, Sarnai still failed to imagine what was so important that she had to go without the one thing that brought her peaceful sleep on a regular basis for the first time in years. Resolving to save the liquid for when she needed it most, Sarnai shouldered the pack that contained the bottle and turned to enter the inn.
Ignoring any other guests, she hurried inside and, taking the stairs two at a time, ran into her room. She dropped her pack at the foot of her bed and began filling it with the few remaining possessions she did not carry on her person. Pouring water from the skin at her belt for the potted rosebush that sat nearby, Sarnai smiled briefly at how well it had fared. The plant had grown taller, its pink flowers blooming. Lifting the report she had finished for the mysterious Old Woman from the bookshelf, she blew dust off the parchment, then returned it to its former place, using the wain-shaped wooden object as a paperweight to secure it. If she chose to return to the house that was once her cousin's, Sarnai was ready. Now she was free, and she could go wherever she pleased. It would most likely be wherever Angelnarth went, as he was leaving soon, but she doubted that anyone would declare her an invalid and keep her at the Warhorse.
Suddenly remembering how weary she was, she collapsed onto the bed. Bringing a hand up to rub her eye, she realized that she had been crying as she packed. Clapping the other hand over her mouth to maintain silence, she rolled onto her side, curling up into a ball. She did not quite understand what it was that moved her to tears, this sense of loss despite her reunion with a friend, but she wept until sleep took her.
Sarnai's dreams were far from pleasant, but she did not wake until the morning. When she did, not exactly well-rested nor cheerful, she stood and looked out the window into the warm daylight. Perhaps the dreams were there to stay, but the price of freedom was one worth more than all the joy in the world. How could she be happy, after all, without the liberty to do so?
