After the horror of the murder scene; I eventually went home it was well past midnight and within a few hours the sun would rise. It was raining and I felt an autumn breeze reaching the surface, yes summer was clearly towards an end. I had no cloak to cover me; only the tattered dress that was supposedly my Mother's. My hair sopping wet and sweeping over my eyes, making it difficult to see my surroundings. I raised my hand and pushed the stray pieces of hair out of my face; then broke into a steady run. Wanting to get out of the rain as soon as possible; how fitting raining after a murder and nightfall here. It was as if another victim was just about to be taken, no, no it wouldn't be me. The killer was taken down by Aeru; but still there could be more goons on the loose. Now was not the time for my paranoia to overcome me, I had reached my home and took the key out of my dress pocket and unlocked the door to my eerily silent home. Moving into the dark entrance and finding myself in my bedroom. I had slipped under the covers and placed the pillow over my head, soon falling into slumber. But there he was again in my dreams, alive and well. Father took my hand and it was was warm I was but a little one again. Perhaps eight years... seven? What does it matter though? It felt so real. I heard his voice and laughter, telling me I was the most precious thing in all of Middle-Earth. That nothing and no one could change that; my hair was tied back and my small hands clinging to his clinging as if never wanting to let go. I could smell the soot and sweat again, nothing that anyone else would be too fond of. But his sweat made me think of the hard labor he did for me; his hands rough and calloused the sign of a true working man. He was swearing at his apprentice and shaking his head; trying to show him the real way to work metal and steel. Then regretting his tongue and telling me never to say any of those words.
His hand slipping back into mine and we walked into the house, he was telling me stories again about Rangers and other things that most Bree-landers would only believe to be a myth. I never knew how he knew so much. But he was Papa and every little girl believes what her Papa says. I saw him again at my bedside and he gave me a cocky smirk telling me about how he punched a man in the nose because he said his face was ugly, his booming laugh and drinking habits wouldn't always be able to show that he was the father any little girl would dream of having. Firm but also gentle, wise but not the smartest man in all of Arda. Then his hand slipped away and I heard the clang of a sword and a bottle shattering to the ground. It was there I too died with him, in spirit but not in body. I now found myself waking up with a scream and cold sweat dropping down my brow.
"Papa?" I swallowed hard and it was as if my heart was about to crawl out of my very chest. If one knew my mind they may as well just turn around; for not even I can withstand the horrors that rest within. "Just a dream.. no just another nightmare. Oh Gods, I have to stop doing this."
