I suppose this letter shall not be added to the stack of ones unsent. It is strange that now that I’ve decided to send one, holding little hope of it reaching you, words seem to escape me.
Things are quiet at the estate, and I suppose that is a good thing. The Lord and Lady’s anniversary is today. I feel so bad for her, having to spend it with him gone. Gifts and kind words are no match at filling the empty space left by his absence .
Rumours have started to circulate that the war is over, though I scarcely dare to hope. Even worse, I hate to think of the cost as the city awaits the return of the knights with bated breath. It’s become frustrating, the waiting and the weight of knowing nothing can be done about it.
Borgil shines bright tonight. I never told you, but I look up at it often. It’s a pretty star. While it is a romantic notion that it might hold such powers as you say, I am comforted by it none the less. To be honest, a part of me wishes for it to be true, if only for you.
Please be safe. I hope that by the time this reaches you the sea is ours, and any sails spotted are friendly ones. I should thank you for being able to stay long enough this time for a proper ‘goodbye’. It has made missing you a little easier.
Praying that you only see fair winds, I remain yours,
Her letter sealed and sent out with a ship that sailed that morning, Feira went about her day as she always did. The flowers in the house were replaced with Mredothyn’s favorites, and she had taken it upon herself to see that the Lady’s breakfast was extra special.
She lingered for a moment, duster dangling from her wrist by it’s leather cord, to gaze out an east-facing window. The shadow that had lingered beyond the far mountain peaks had dissipated and she wondered how much longer they would have to wait for them to come home.