rannie

So, Aanya, is angry with me! At last she has taken the children into the village square and given me respite from the disgruntled looks and sarcastic comments. It must have been quite the shock returning last night to the sight that befell her. I do not think she picked her jaw up for several hours. I make no apologies, all said and done, it is my home, it happened and cannot be undone. Though it is not my intention to seem unkind, but there are worse things to stumble upon.

I almost did not bring you, book. Nor any writing implements. I must take care not to wake the woman by my side. She keeps stirring, and I do not wish to have to explain your existence. It is an unusually quiet night in the Trollshaws but that in itself is ominous, I find I cannot rest, the memories of this place. The bank of the Hoarwell. They keep me awake.

As I sit here in my chair drinking of mead with the windows of my home wide open in the midst of summer. I have come to a startling realization.

One of the main reasons that I have been engulfed with this identity crisis of mine. Conflicting narratives crashing against each other, is you. Infernal book, I had buried the murder of one of my best friend's deep within the confines of my mind. I had moved on. But ever since I wrote of it. The knowledge of it has burrowed out, the acknowledgement of it. And it is not keen on returning.

How do I even begin to describe these days. I set out with a game in mind. Fun, even. And what fun it was. Risky even for me. I learnt my tricks from Mabel, a feisty dark haired Bree-girl I may have mentioned before. She was a competent thief. In those days I must have known Rannie. But we never spoke. There were many faces in the Alley I do not remember. My appearance has changed much since those grubby days as well. I had jet black hair, the brigands had mashed some strange concoction together and smeared it in my hair to change it's colour so as I would not appear foreign.

So ends another chapter in my life, Aemalia, as much as I wish I could have helped you. I fear the pain runs too deep. May you find the peace and happiness you so truly deserve. Before you ask oh curious reader, No, she was not yet another object of my desire. Sweet though she was, delicate even. I did not think of her in that way ultimately. Her mere presence in my home since I saved her from the cruel men who tormented her and abused her thus had become more of a burden on my already damaged spirit than anything else. In the end it would have done me more harm than good.

It has been a long time since my last entry, the contents of which can seem to make me cringe, I have come to terms with the beast within me, it is well satiated this month. I have been expanding my courier enterprises since last I wrote, my cart was assailed by brigands. Kríea's trauma will heal in time from her brief captivity by them. I am still not certain as how I managed to get her out of it and still preserve the precious Lynx furs that were my cargo.

The hunter walked outside of the gates of Aughaire, the window picking up the dust and ash that lay across most of the foul lands of Angmar. He wondered quietly to himself if these lands had always been like this, or if they were once like many of the others, lush, filled with beauty and mystery. He carefully made his way down the steep hill, knowing that these were but baby steps compared to where he needed to go.

These days have been full of blessings and good news. Rosiebell writes me back!, after all these days she finally managed to communicate with me even with all the slaughter happening to the east. She was fine and even healthy, she said to me that she will back soon. I'm very happy of this!

Today I've decided to write about my family; perhaps to look at when I grow older.