{{post iii}}

[shieldofrohan]

Two seasons have turned since I found myself here - half a year gone by, by my count. That frightens me. Even if the Mistress spoke truly when she said our own worlds stand still, yet this one does not. We grow, we age, we draw further away from home. And to what purpose?

If I speak truly, from the heart, I do not hate this land. It is strange, and vulgar, yet there is a curious peace here, a freedom to speak and to act as one might not in a more mannered land. I think that if I were returned, I should miss it.

But my people await. My King yet ails, my country yet faces the Shadow, the darkness yet lingers. It is wrong, I think, that I should be here and not there. I have no purpose here, no duty worthy of the name. Sooner would I face war and misery than to live and die without need, without honour. I fear to abandon my duties. I fear that part of me wishes it. I fear I could not return at all, changed as I am. Shamed as I am.

Would you return home? If you were offered such a chance, would you take it? Would you even question it?