My dearest sisters; Ealhwyn, Cwenthryth, Leofgifu, and and Sigeburg, to husbands and children:
Far too long have I gone without writing. I admit, I have not gotten any of your letters. I have discovered that Wulf has intercepted any of them from getting to me. And now I will reply.
Idhrandir and I are no more, I regret to inform you. He, like all the others, has left me too. I fell in and out of love several times since you last heard- let me expand:
Glandaron. He was a gentleman who saved my life, I owed him that much at least. He picked me up when I collapsed outside his forge in Esteldin and took me to a healer. He nursed me back to health and sat at my side till I was alright to travel back home. I received a grievous wound in Angmar that was nearly the death of me. I shall spare you the details.
Aron was a nice, strong, handsome and pleasant man. A father of four- yet he was a deadbeat father. I should have known better. I fell for him, and we were engaged to be wed. All was well till I tried to get sober from the drinking curse that plagues our father's side. The withdrawal made me irritable and we fought viciously and he raised his hand to me and threatened to take our daughter from me. We fell apart and I began seeing others. Eventually something in him turned foul and the man attempted to murder me, and now he sits in a jail cell. I am good friends with his daughter and am helping her with her pregnancy.
After Aron, I floated around some. I met a man named Mortermon. Sweet Morter. He was a man from farther North than you can imagine, where green grass never grows, and it is just snow and ice. He and I lapsed into a sweet romance. Often times he ran off to attend to his work, and I regret that he and I were not as close as we could have been before his untimely departure. I cared for and loved him deeply, as much as I loved Idhrandir, if not more. He was slain by Orc kind, far sooner than he should have. My heart hurts still when I think of him.
At the same time I was courting Morter, I was with another man named Demlemoth.
Demlemoth....
He is a man who is one of the few larger than me. He has a strong, noble presence. He is handsome and strong, yet elegant at the same time. He too is a learned, smart man (clearly I have a type!). He sports long dark hair and a neat beard and tends to dress in brightly coloured clothes- a stark contrast to my dark, earthen style. He is a far quieter man than me, and I am alright with that. In one of the poems I wrote as a younger man, I spoke of a Raven-haired King, I have no doubts that this man is the man I saw in my visions of youth and wrote such poems about. He have fallen for him, and I have no desire to have it any other way. I have comitted myself to him. Perhaps someday, we shall be wed, (though I accidentlaly called him my husband when I was in a state of gross fatigue!).
I am an Inn-keeper now. Yes! I bought a run down farm and have been working the winter away to restore it. i bought it from an elderly couple who were unable to work the land for quite some years and wished to move into town with their children. On the property, right by the road, I had an Inn built. It is called The Huntsman and The Stag. It is a cozy and quaint place- and to date, the only Inn I know of that accepts labour and chores as payment for board and meals!
I have exhausted enough parchment this letter. I may write more later on with more gossip of these lands, of my workings, of my love and mate, and so on.
The hour is late and I am falling asleep as I write, I shall write again very soon.
With much love and many apologies,
Egfor.
