I have returned to Bree, bringing Ynna back as well. She wishes to return to Rohan as quickly as possible-taking me along for the journey-but I cannot leave Bree for some time, as I am something of a mother now. The name of the lad I care for, is Teregan, and he cannot be more than six years of age. His father was taken far away from him, to fight in the war against darkness, yet his son was left in Bree, to fend darkness off on his own. It breaks my heart that one so young should suffer so much pain and uncertainty. He knows not when his father will return, so I have taken him beneath my wing and will not leave until I know he is quite safe. It does warm my heart, somehow, when he calls me "Mama" and embraces me. I have no intentions of allowing this to tie me to his father in any way. What a dreadful man, to not even make arrangements for his own son's care! I worry of how well Teregan will be cared for after I return him to his own father.
I have told few people the truth of my Gondorian blood, only those I know I can trust. Around them, and only them, I can speak without the foolish sound of an unlearned Bree-lander. I've nothing against the accent of Bree...simply that it does not suit me, and I was foolish enough to pick up the slum's accent before meeting merchants and people who have had some degree of learning, in the least. I miss my life in Gondor more with each passing hour. Life before Daer ruined it, that is. If he had stood up to his father, then I would not - Oh, it makes no matter. I always knew he was a weak-willed lamb of a man. I made the foolish decisions as well and I would do well to live with them. I will write of Daer no further this day. Perhaps when I see the end of that tale, I will tell it wholly. I do wish it would have never happened, or it would have been over quickly, but I still face the consequences of my actions. I cannot fully trust anyone, even those I know quite well I can trust, and it pains me deeply. Though, perhaps a foolish action, I have told them much of the truth. Well, some of them. The man, Kristopher, appears trustworthy and I feel very much as though I could tell him and could trust him, yet I found recently my fear was reasonable. The last occasion I spoke to him, I learned he is indeed, of Gondor. I know not how I did not know completely more quickly, as he practically wears the scent of Gondor. Perhaps I wished for it not to be so, so I kept an irrational and foolish hope that it was not. I almost told him. I almost told him I am of Gondor as well, but that would have been such a foolish act. As it is, however, I find it quite hard to lie outright of my birth taking place in Bree. I simply say I live in the area. Is this better than a lie? Perhaps not. But I cannot bring myself to lie. Oh Mother, if you knew how well your terrible lessons were truly taken to heart!
I did tell Ynna a little of what happened, mainly to earn her trust. She had to travel back to Bree with me, and it would not do for her to, once again, not know her own traveling companion. She did not seem much surprised, but perhaps, after such a troublesome journey, it mattered very little. I do hope I can protect her on the journey to Rohan, when the time comes. I fail so readily, so often, at protecting those I wish protection upon the most. There are so many sorrowful tales in these people's hearts and minds, yet no way I can help them. It is not as if I trust THEM with MY OWN sorrows, so I cannot rightly judge them for that. Yet, I still wish to help each one. I have seen sorrow enough so as to be able to see it behind one's eyes, even when it is well-hidden. I wish to reach through and pull it out, but I cannot. Often, it is those I feel I can trust, yet decide not to, that have such sorrows. So very many of them. Oh, the irony of it all. ~Dru
