She blinked her eyes open.
The bed was colder than it would have. This meant that Nimraph had awoken before her. She rolled from her side to her back, eyes narrowed. She was usually a very light sleeper. Living in Mordor meant you were never safe asleep. Yet, recently she had been falling into far deeper sleep than she ever had before. So deep, she had not awoken to her lover arising.
She stretched, the thin summer blanket covering her felt like smooth silk or thin water against her skin. She heard a little *plop* and turned her head to see the kitten Obsidian joining her. She stretched, trotting over to Eira with her tail high in the air. Eira pulled her bare arm out from under the covers and reached out. She stroked the kitten, who purred in delight and head butted her hand demanding more. Eira chuckled, petting her kitten in the silence of the room.
As she enjoyed the simple moment, tears flooded her eyes. This was so small, yet so serene. Here she was, leagues from Mordor, in the comfort of her protector's guest room. She had awoken after a night of bliss with her lover, was comfortable and content, and was having the humble joy of petting the kitten she had nursed back to health. The tears slipped from her eyes. She was so lucky. Someone who had grown up in the cruelty of Mordor, embraced it at a point, was now enjoying the pleasures of simple life in Eriador.
She still felt guilt in partaking in those pleasures, feeling that she had not earned them. She still needed to pay for her past sins.
Obsidian turned and walked to the edge of the bed, curling into a little ball and falling asleep. Eira sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Then, she decided to wake up.
She pulled the blankets off her pale frame and reached for the white robe hanging on the corner of her bed. She slipped off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. She wrapped the robe around her, tightening the blue ribbon around her waist. She sighed, brushing some of her dyed blonde hair away from her face. She shambled over to the small desk where she wrote. She always started her day writing. She jotted the ten things she was thankful for down on a piece of paper like routine, then shoved the paper off the table. As the crinkling paper fluttered to the floor, Eira pulled her journal Madaurbeth close and reached to open it. Under the journal, however, was another piece.
The apology letter.
Egfor had ordered Eira to write an apology letter to herself. Indeed, she leaned over and looked over the several paragraphs she had managed to write out, yet she was still unfinished. Then, the moments for earlier replayed in her mind, her regrets and self shame. She pushed Madaurbeth aside and pulled the paper close, adding another line to the letter that was taking her ages to complete.
"I am sorry for refusing to let you enjoy your present life. I will try to no longer rob you of your joy."
