t saddens me that Eirwen no longer treats with me as a friend. She looks away when I speak. She no longer smiles when I approach. Eirwen may help me out of necessity to further our party’s mysterious aims but never out of kindness.
Did I betray her?
For it was because of Eirwen and Beomer’s intial kindness that helped me escape my bonds forever. I will never forget it.
Her brother Celyn died in battle, at age 23. I myself am 23, yet I feel much older.
My entire family and most of my village died fighting the Duergar, or by serving them.
Celyn died fighting as a warrior—with weapon in hand, fighting his tribe’s enemies. I can think of no more glorious way for an Amear to leave this world. If only many of my friends had been given that chance.
During the battle I led braves and warriors alike to a great victory over both orcs and dogmen. I myself killed the orc leader and many of his bravest warriors. My Amear warriors gained great honor that day.
If Celyn was the brave warrior that Eirwen believes he was than surely his killer would have been an equally accomplished, skillful orc? We killed all such that day.
The only orcs to survive our bloody rage were a scarce handful of male weaklings who were not in the front lines, as well as their women and children.
Would killing these innocent and weak have brought Celyn back?
Would killing every Duergar child bring my family back?
Upon my mother’s deathbed I vowed to no longer tolerate the suffering of the innocent and weak. Instead, I will bring suffering upon those who wish to do so.
If Eirwen cannot forvive me, then I will grieve to have lost a friend.
If she wishes to fight me, then I will grieve to have lost a Nieran.