((The lettering is crisp, clear, and fluid, it was obvious it was not written by Ayla's hand. The page sits under a grave marker.))
I leave this here to tell the tale of how Ayla was killed, no murdered. A dear friend, wife to Aeruthuil, mother to Aethardor. I do not know how to write this, I found Aeruthuil holding Ayla, craddeling a lifeless body in his arms, saying how she will wake up soon. Just give her time to wake up. The thoughts pain me, the love that one man can have for one woman is without bounds. I have seen this first hand. It gives me hope in the land. The body he held, I did not wish to believe it was my friend. There were stab wounds covering her chest, it seemed not one spot of clothing was left uncut by knife wound after knife wound. Her red hair left darker, from the stickiness of her blood.
(blotches dot the page, small water marks dropped randomly, a few words re-writting after being washed out.))
Aeruthuil would not listen to me as I told him that she was dead. Her body cold, stiffness had already set in. How long had he held her like this, cradled against his chest, cloak wrapped around her. I added my own cloak, it was all that I could do. If I pushed to hard, he would break beyond repair. I could not have that, not this man I loved as much as I love her. His son, Aeth needs him. I need him. His men, his people, they all need this man to not shatter into a million pieces. I left him to hold her. When I got into the house, I heard Aeth's whimpers. He was hungry, and I, well I had not carried my own child long enough to offer Aeth a mother's milk. Wrapping him up, I took him outside with me, back to Aeruthuil, back to my friend's body. I set Aeth next to her, Aeruthuil looked confused, so I told him that if she were to wake, it would surely be to the sound of her son's needs. Aeth whimpered, she did not move. Aeth whimpered louder, yet, there was still no movement. I convinced him to bring her inside, get her body warmed up. Surely that will help. Once inside, he sent word to her Company, to Tal, a woman I do not know, but Ayla cared for her as a sister.
I was told that Tal and her man made it shortly after Edlenn was sent with missive. It was they that managed to pry Ayla from his arms. To help build a pyre for her. They stood by his side as it was lit. Nothing remains but ashes now, and this marker. That is why I leave this story. The end of a dear friend. I will miss you Ayla.
((There is more written but the hand writing it was too grief stricken and it was illegible.))
