It’s been a while since I last needed to write down my thoughts. No doubt I will end up burning this later. It is dangerous to leave thoughts such as this written down. For now, though… it might help. Ilthirian and Lusseriel told me something today. I do not know where they got the idea from, but I regret pushing so hard for them to tell me.
Not long ago, I lost the person I cared for the most… Arcangar. Even writing his name still causes me pain. We’ve lost so many people over this journey. Men, Rangers, people we met on the way. Candaith’s death still causes me nightmares, sometimes. Arc, though, was the reason I journeyed to Rivendell. He summoned me all the way from Breeland by raven. My friend needed help, so I left. It truly was that simple. I never knew it would take me on a journey this far from home. If I had I would surely have told someone I was going to be leaving for what I now suspect is for good. Looking back, I do not think I regret the journey.
Except that one moment, when he died. Right in front of us and we couldn’t do a thing about it. I didn't even know until we were prisoners in Isengard, and Tindollion told me he had fallen right after I was hit on the head so badly I could no longer open my eyes. I cannot explain the pain I still feel. I cannot explain why I feel so much pain. I cannot explain why I cared for him as much as I did. It is not even like I knew him that well, that we spent that much time together. Yet, I considered him a close friend who I had many memories with and someone I would help in a heartbeat even though he was bitter and clearly affected by his past. Losing him just… hurt.
There has been a young man, well I thought him young until tonight, travelling with us by the name of Brunnadan. He joined my companions in the Great River and has never truly left our company since. I first met him in Haldirith, after I returned from my journey back to Breeland. For a while, he looked at me strangely and would barely speak a word to me. I disliked the way he looked at me in those first few days. It felt like I was a puzzle that must be solved, but I consider myself to be fairly open with people. I guess after a few days he got past that and he began treating me almost as he did the others. He keeps calling me Ardi, too, and I do not like it. Asking him not to seems to do nothing to stop him, although he seems to feel guilty each time I remind him. So I was wary of him at first. Lusseriel still seems to be. However, I do not believe he is here to hurt us and I said as much tonight. It seemed to placate Brunnadan from whatever he was doing with the lights, at least.
Brunnadan spoke to Ilthirian, Lusseriel and I tonight. He opened up more than he ever had, and yet I wish he had not. He said some things, things I do not fully understand. He is clearly young, and human, yet he said he had lived for hundreds of years. How? He does not look much older than me, and I am definitely only twenty-four years old. He spoke with words and knowledge far beyond my understanding, and I question where he got such information. He claims he dreams them. I will admit to having dreams, nightmares even, but his seem more… vivid. Ilthirian and Lusseriel seem to understand some of them. I see them exchanging looks when he speaks of them. They said he cares for me, but how? Why? We barely know each other.
Even though I know in my heart he is not here to hurt us, I felt fear tonight. Fear of him. Fear of something unknown, something that could potentially hurt my companions. Even though Ilthirian and Lusseriel told me I could not help him if indeed he is bound by some oath, I will try my hardest. This being he calls the Huntsman - I must find out who they are if I am to help him. I may not know him well but he has helped my companions and therefore I must treat him as a friend.
Brunnadan was, understandably, troubled by the conversation. Perhaps he was afraid he had said too much and considering the reactions of the elves he may well have. I wish now that I had followed him away, or otherwise also taken my leave of the elves. What Ilthirian and Lusseriel shared with me has affected me more deeply than I will ever admit to them.
They told me that Brunnadan, this young man who seems so troubled by something I do not understand, is the same as my old and bitter friend Arcangar who passed away back in Dunland. They seemed to be serious. I do not know how they got that idea into their heads, but it has to be impossible. I would *know*. If Arcangar by some miracle managed to come back from the dead, I would be able to recognise him. Of that I am almost certain. Oh how I wish it were true though. I would perhaps even give him a hug if he returned, though I doubt he would have appreciated such an action. I consider Ilthirian and Lusseriel to be my friends now and of course I trust them, but this? I could barely reply to them, for I could not keep back my tears. I had so many memories with Arcangar, brief though they were, but now that he is gone they feel so little. I stammered out a denial of their words, too affected by a surge of memories to answer fully.
No. Brunnadan cannot be Arcangar. I feel completely different towards Brunnadan, ranging from dislike when we first met to a sort of respect when he volunteered to tell Thane Mildrith that someone desired to marry her when I could not bring myself to. That made me respect him when previously I had none, though I wonder why he stepped in. Perhaps he sensed my reluctance. I think I upset him that day because he reached out to comfort me about my guilt from leaving without notice after we read Lusseriel’s note. Tonight, though… I feared Brunnadan just a little. I was never afraid of Arcangar, even though some of the things he did and said were questionable.
I had to walk away from them. Not to follow Brunnadan, but to gather my thoughts. I cannot leave my companions as I did when he first passed away. To do that now would be unthinkable. They deserve more than a half-absent friend. I needed to gather myself before Andrahir and Rolegard rejoined us. Instead though I just sat down near a fire somewhere, I cannot even remember where now, and shed tears once more for my friend. So many discussions we needed to have. He tried to talk to me before we headed into Tal Methedras but my head was too focused on helping the Dunlendings who would later betray us… betray him. I almost detoured there on my way back to Haldirith. Almost went to try and kill them all… but I didn’t, because I was scared. Not of the Dunlendings, not of being alone among so many enemies. I was afraid of seeing his body still in that cave.
I wish now that I had taken more time to listen. Arcangar always had so many stories to tell. He told me once of Amon Sul, as we were travelling through Lone Lands. I did not know it by that name, I always simply knew it as ‘Weathertop’. I wish I could remember more of his stories. It might help now.
There is only one other I have met, apart from elves, who have referred to it by that name. When I returned to Breeland after Arc… died… I met another man called Adanthrymm who apparently knew Arcangar and was shocked to learn of his death. He had an affinity for animals much as Arcangar seemed to have and to begin with it hurt me to see someone so similar in character and age, yet a great deal less bitter. Then I began to take a strange comfort in it. Adan taught me so much over just a few days. Ilthirian had gifted me a bear cub, no doubt in an attempt to distract me from my friend’s death (like anything could possibly distract me from that), and Adan taught me how to communicate with her. I left her in his care, and I know that he will look after her well.
I need to process my feelings before the morning comes, but… I do not know how. My head is a mess. I already know I will not be sleeping tonight. Perhaps I *should* go and find Rolegard, or Andrahir. Perhaps they can help to distract me at least for a little while. The Hobbits of Staddle were always the optimistic sort. Rolegard, whilst he is an adventuring type, reminds me of the Staddle Hobbits sometimes. When he cooks, the food always tastes far better than anything we find on the road even when made with the most meagre of ingredients. I still remember the mushrooms he made back in Dunland. They were delicious.
No. I cannot trouble anyone else with this. Not even Brunnadan. He does not need to know that the elves think him to be my old friend. His mind seems chaotic enough as it is; I shouldn’t turn to him with my troubles as well. I am not even sure if I could. How can I look at him now, knowing what Ilthirian and Lusseriel suspect? Should I let myself have any hope that Arcangar is still alive, in him? No… I cannot. It’s not him, it can’t be. He would remember me… wouldn’t he? I surely cannot have meant so little to him that he would forget. Hopefully by morning I will have decided how best to handle my feelings.
Ardirien looked at the words she had written one last time, and gently put the tear-stained pages into the fire. She sits back and watches them crumple into cinders and then curls up with a rough blanket, resigning herself to a sleepless night. She cannot help but whisper four words into the flickering darkness, quiet enough to not wake anyone but if anyone was already awake nearby they would surely have heard: “I am sorry, Arc”.
