The dawn is far away...and I cannot see the stars no matter how hard I try tonight.
I pen these words as I sit alone in the woods near Bree, huddled near a hasty campfire. The smoke rises high into the sky...I don't care. Lovelorn lays naked beside me, her beautiful edge glittering in the firelight. I am not worthy of her.
I have spent most of the night now doing horrible things to the surrounding trees...spinning dancing, hacking at imaginary enemies with my eyes closed. Every shadow against my closed eyelids, an Uruk's face...every nightmare that assailed me, the White Hand...every night bird's cry, the old Wizard whispering in my ear.
Now I lay spent...wracked with shame.
I can feel them...I feel my Fille, child of devotion and resistance, seeking me. I feel dear Cyndwin, child of hope and passion, mourning me. I even feel my immortal Lady, her concern like a sweet sensation on the back of my tongue.
I hide here in the firelight....I am too ashamed to face them yet. I need them too badly to face their rejection.
This afternoon, when the Horsemistress told her story filled with innocent fervor and courage, and it became clear the White Hand was even clutching at my throat here, the world seemed to stop. Nan Curunir overwhelmed me and rendered me near senseless before a blazing memory.
To be so stricken by memory would be bad enough...but as my senses returned, I beheld the eyes of my boon companions, confused at first as to what had transpired while I was stunned to make them appear so. Fille's face painted with fear and rage, Cyndwin's with horror and heartbreak. That was when I realized the horrid truth...in my shock I had lost even the most basic self-control of a child and all of that waking nightmare I had just relived, it was their's now too. I still do not know how much they saw, but from the disgust on their faces it was enough and it was in their souls now like a knife...forever. That was my gift to them for loving me. A poor bargain by any measure.
Shuddering here by the fire I can almost let wearyness overwhelm me at long last...that same bone crushing desire to let it all fade away that I felt in Orthanc...all that stays my hand is my selfishness. I cannot let go the people I love...or the hope that somehow, someway I can save them from the gathering darkness. I cannot surrender and shame my Lady Arahen who has put such faith and confidence in me, I am too selfish to bear that shame into the West.
Arahen's sweet love...all of their loves...thinking on them brings back his voice again...warm like brandywine..."Why do you seek to hold back the tide, when you are as helpless before it as they...and do you think they will thank you for your pains? They will despise you for them, despise you for the same weakness that they bear, so as to hide their eyes from their own failure. You, noble firstborn, will bear all of their shame, their guilt...you will be the sacrificial lamb for those who profess to love you with their liar's tongues. How could they love you, when your own mother turned her face from you? They mock you and wheedle you for their own ends, yet it will be you who stand by helplessly and watch them all die, as they waste their last breath cursing your name. That is your doom, firstborn...your curse. But isn't it what you yourself chose?"
No...no...I did not choose it...and Elbereth has not forsaken me....she has sent me a sign just last night....a sign in the eyes of a child.
In the Pony I was seeking my room for a bit of rest before setting forth on that ill fated outing with my sisters. Sisters...HA....I hear his voice again..."SO-CALLED sisters..oh how the firstborn can deceive...even themselves". Silence!!! Will I never be freed of his whispering!
As I walked the halls of the inn I came upon a strange sight. A child of my people. A girl of no more than 70, yet what the breelanders would call a teen or a womanchild. She stood in a hallway looking lost, with no kin nearby...and perplexed and moved by the feeling of desolation about her I hailed her.
At first she looked as if she would bolt..but upon looking at me she paused, unsure...after I spoke to her in Sindarin, she seemed to relax as some kind of realization dawned upon her and near collapsed into my arms.
Her plight spilled out of her...she was on the road with her parents, bound for the Last Homely House when they were waylaid by foul creatures...she watched her mother and father cut down and then all becomes haze, until she became sensible again on the back of her white pony here in Bree. That is a long way from the road to Imladris but as I searched her memories, I as well found only haze. Very strange indeed.
She clung to me like a frightened kitten and told me her name was Nesselde..."little one" in the tongue of our people, and I nearly wept. She still bears her birth name, bestowed on her by a doting mother who would now never get to give her a name for a woman.
We spoke for what felt like hours until I told her I would take her to Imladris and allow the wise to decide her fate but she begged to remain with me, under my care...and in truth I realised that bearing her to Imladris would not be wise. Until I know how she came to Bree and what truly became of her parents, taking her to Rivendell could put her in danger, or worse.
And so I consented to tend the poor child in her mother's stead, though I felt unworthy even then for such a responsibility. I felt her poor mother's spirit close to this child, guiding her steps, and could not help but think as the child wept in joy and exhaustion that somehow, this was her mother's final wish before departing, that I should watch over her. Perhaps she now hovers over me, along with my own mother and that of Fille...I hope they might all be friends.
I must discover how she came to Bree...I fear something very dark in this tale, something which connects to our other tasks...too many unexplainable things to all be happenstance. This cannot be happenstance.
Elbereth showed faith in me, to send me such a poor child, I must remember this...my Lady Arahen has faith in me...and Fille and Cyndwin have faith in me...and my friends. Everytime I fail them the battle is not over as long as I rise again...and I will have my vengence yet. I am Xanderian of Belfalas...I am the Longtracker...I am Nightwind of the Gray Company and I will not let him defeat me, not even in my dreams. Least of all in my dreams.
I must rise from this fire as dawn breaks and face their sad, disappointed eyes, even if stars never shine over me again. If ever I will do what must be done. I have no choice but to rise...if nothing else, Nesselde needs me. Fille needs me, and Cyndwin needs me. Xandilif needs me, and Xanir. I flatter myself to think that even Arahen needs me as well.
...and I need them. As long as I need their trust, as long as I can feel their souls close to mine and need that closeness, I will know I am still alive.
And if I am still alive, I can fight.
