“You are far too beautiful to love me.”
Loosely inspired by this song.
At the time, I was so angry. I could not believe he sent a letter to Cardanith behind my back as if he saw me as some reckless child who had to be minded; who was too grieved to make his own decisions. I felt betrayed. Like I could not trust myself. I was right about that, at least. I could not trust myself to stay civil.
“You wrote to him?” I spat, and all of hell broke loose from there. I let loose a barrage of flames from my own tongue and cared not to listen to what Ithilwe said in response. I did not even care about the scene we were making, in the hall outside of Tham Send. I should have been ashamed, but instead, I was obstinate. Not even the presence of Kurtbor, who apparently is a new Company member, could begin to temper our anger and our ire.
I don't remember when Seregrian showed up. Just that she had pulled me aside at one point and demanded that I truly consider what it is I am fighting about. I hate her. I don't hate her. I hated her in that moment. I hated everyone in that moment. I never wanted to see them again. I wanted to go away, and do what I wanted, and I did not want to care about what I left behind.
But I do care. And she knew that.
Seregrian had us hold our hands together, and she swore upon us the Gwannoss. The brother-bond, though I do not think it was intended literally. I think she wanted us to understand how important we are to each other. I realize that now.
And then she left.
Left us to deal with the fallout of each other. Which was fair; we should be able to do that. And we did. Though it was long and terrible, and we both wept over the apologies made. It was a stupid argument. In a way, we were looking out for each other - though I fear I will never be able to take back saying that “I should leave without the weight”. Ithilwe is not dead weight.
I understood his point of view more a few days later when we spoke to Cedmon in our return to Bree. Although younger than us (a Silvan elf of Eryn Lasgalen), when he spoke of his brother's death at Erebor, and how he felt a fire within - I understood that. That is how I feel with Mallossel’s death. I want fire. I want ruin. I want action.
Then he spoke of his betrothed. How he had lost her only months prior to Orcs outside of Felegoth. All he bore of her memory was a silver ring on his finger. I could not even look at him, then, nor could I look at Ithilwe. How was I to?
When I knew that I could become that? I did not want Ithilwe to become a colorless memory to me; and it was then I understood. That Ithilwe did not want that for me - to burn myself out so fiercely that all that was left of myself was ash in the places I once stood.
There will never be enough apologies I can offer for how witless I was being; how reckless in wanting to race off to Mordor; how foolhardy in my decisions.
I promised him a silver ring.
“Yet, you are too beautiful to leave me.”
