I've been away far too long. I reckon it's been four days since I stopped to rest, and probably not far short of that since I ate. Time ... my greatest enemy.
What possessed me to take off on this journey - what impulse drove me to leave without a word of what I hoped to achieve?
My love received a letter telling her that two old friends might have fallen on a quest to free her from her past. What to do ... what path to take? She did not know, nor I. We talked, endlessly it seemed, as to what could be done.
I could not ease her mind. There were too many questions and doubts as to her friends' fate. So I thought to see what I could find for sure, to find if they still live, or at least to find where they had been laid to rest. If I could find them, I could bring my love to say her goodbyes to them.
I left, in too much haste. Had I told her what was in my mind, my lady would have wished to come with me, but the danger for her was too great. At the time I felt it best to go without a word, hoping to be able to find something to ease her mind.
I am, I think, a day or two away from her still, and worse I have been able to find nothing. I've wasted so much of the precious little time we have together ...