It surprised me when her people did not insist on putting me in bindings again. Perhaps they were too worried about the girl to even consider the weight of my role in her sudden arrival in the North Downs. Coincidence brought us here, didn’t you know?
Of course, I am not complaining. They did not know of the little ruby I dropped in her backyard one night. It waited patiently to be discovered for such a long time. But she found it. I knew she would. Digging in the dirt, she does, and one day she’ll dig her own grave.
Not yet, though. She was supposed to bring it, but she didn’t. The pull of the gem was too strong for her, I suppose. It overruled her desire to see the statue again and she left Bree without the key to my Father’s happiness. The key to mine.
He promised me that once he had her, he wouldn’t need me anymore. I told him I just wanted to live a simple life somewhere away from Angmar and magic. Maybe find Red, though he’s probably off and gotten himself killed, the idiot.
I miss his doting, even if he was a bloody coward.
Bah, he’s probably dead.
That could be an option, now that I think of it. If she were dead, he’d not want her anymore. He’d have to move on or find some other woman who had her cheekbones to terrorize.
“It’s the eyes, Lôm,” he says. “It’s her eyes.”
I’ve looked at the girl’s eyes and they’re not brown.
“The devotion,” he says, “Not the colour. Colour is meaningless. It is insubstantial. Merely the physical shell that one chooses to walk around in. Do you think this is what I looked like all those years ago? No! A shell, Lômiphel. That is all any of this is.”
I don’t like that idea. I don’t like to think that I am merely some shell for a fea to claim as their own for a time. That the strength of my arm or the keen of my intellect is only for show. And if that were really true, why wouldn’t any old body do for him? If all it is for him is a shell for her.
Ugh. I do hope he has some magical youth potion. He’s a bit old for…you know what? Nah. He’d be fine for her tastes after all.