7 months, 21 days... Since midnight.
It was this long since Bréhon quietly had closed the door of this house behind him. A bitter cold winter’s night it had been, where he had replaced his warm bed for the cold and dark unknown. A bed he had shared; a mission he would fulfill alone. No one could help him. There was none he would have endured help from. Not from the elf he had left behind, not from his brother whom he trusted with his life. No one.
It had come as a surprise, like a fierce bolt of lightning during a clear day. Éomer King had summoned him and Bréhon had been sure the reason for this had been his sporadic disappearances over the past couple of months. The truth however had been even more as a cold shower.
Never had he expected to have to go back there. Never. Not out of his own free well – certainly not in that case! – and being a Rider stationed in the Westfold, he had felt safe when it came to the terrain of his patrols and missions. Alas...
"Choose a small party," Éomer King had said. "Two, maximum three, should go.â€
He had chosen none, even though his first thoughts had been with Eoden. But he could not... Oh, it was not the endless stream of jokes he for sure would have to endure that had kept him from walking straight to his brother. He even knew the smartest move he now could make was doing exactly that.
Yet from the moment Éomer had spoken that one word, Bréhon’s jaw had set and his mind had been made up. And like this, he was as if he were made of rock – nothing or no one could make him change his mind.
He had not told a living soul, and while the days had grown shorter he had become quieter. It had hurt him to look at Jae, to see her radiant smile and the flicker in her eyes. It had stabbed him like a knife that he couldn’t warn her about his leave. That he could not bring himself to tell Eoden about his reasons for wanting to go alone. For if he did that, his reasons would be no more... He still could not face his own past, the coward that he was!
Just as this very moment, where he kept dwelling in the downstairs hallway, where he couldn’t face the dark polished staircase leading to the upper floor. He couldn’t face the sight of the room that had been his, now deserted or occupied by another. He could not face her room, stripped of all her belongings, or so he expected. After all, no one would take satisfaction with a mere note lying on the pillow, some letters scribbled on it as if it had been written by a child:
‘Will be back. Love, B’
Even though the smell of the house still was familiar and his memories of this place were as if he had not been away at all, he was convinced the memories about him by now had fled all these rooms and those who occupied them - once or still...
With a dark glint in his eyes Bréhon suddenly turned heels and fled through the backdoor to quickly cover the distance over the wet grass leading to the stables. He closed the door behind him and for a few moments leaned against it. Then, with slow and long paces he walked over to the box where he had left his horse earlier that day.
The chestnut stallion neighed softly when he recognized his master, and Bréhon gave him a few slices of bread he had pinched from the kitchen. He had taken them for his own use, but right now his stomach would not hold them even though he was hungry.
He had not had any real food since he had stopped in Edoras, to give Éomer an account of his mission, and to drop Berhelf off with one last stern warning. He shook his head while thinking back at the lad’s rashness.
A gentle nudge against his shoulder made him hand the last slice of bread to Nahar. He then entered the box and reached for the saddle that rested on the beam in-between the separate boxes. With his hand on the weathered leather he paused for a long moment, his thoughts scattered. He could go now – should go! He was convinced no one had seen him. Not even that elf seated on the couch who he – at first glance – had thought to be Jae. Yet is had not been Jae, but the elf named Kaya he had encountered for the first time even before he ever had set foot behind the walls of Edoras.
A deep sigh followed and while he stroke his bearded lower jaw a tortured frown marred his brow. Torn he was... would he not better leave, now that it was still possible and before any more hurt would be of his making? Or should he stay?
‘You fool, why have you come?†he questioned himself while slowly sinking down against the inner wall of the box.
+++++
Jae, honey... I'm baaaaaaack
(who would have thought?! Not me for sure!
)
Ah yes, it's good to see some things still 'are'.
Except for my english, gosh it all feels rusty!