Missing You (Reniril Zimrabar's Letters Home, #2)

[JediMaestro 244]

 

Spoiler

My second epistolary post recounting Reniril's adventures. She's finally old enough to write her own letters, so hopefully this will become a bit more regular. Obviously this is a private letter to her NPC mom, so ya know . . . don't metagame. But enjoy!

Dear Mama,

 

            It’s been a little while since I’ve written you. Things got kinda busy here, and Mr. Angus didn’t have a lot of time to help me with letters. I remember what you said too, right before I left, about not writing you so that I wouldn’t live in the past. For the past few years, I thought I’d done that. I’ve made new friends here, and my cousins have been nice. I’ve gotten used to living in the big city and meeting all sorts of new people.

 

            But . . . something happened a year or two ago. It started at a jousting tournament where all the bravest knights and nobles of Idunia were competing. My best friend Senthilde Vourkehardt entered the competition, so I had come to cheer her on (I wish you could meet Tildy – she’s so sweet and nice, and I know you would love her)! After the tournament had ended, I was chatting with Tildy and her friends Mateo and Juliano when all of a sudden, a thick fog rolled in over the fairgrounds. Before we knew it, it was so dark and foggy that I could hardly even see the people next to me. I was already a little spooked, but then I started hearing voices.

 

            At first, it was just whispering. It was like they were just barely out of reach; like if I stepped a little closer, I could make out what they were saying. I knew better than to go wandering off though; Tildy had told me stories about evil creatures called darkspawn who will try to lure you away to hurt you. I guess I was too young to know about those when I still lived out in the country with you, even though I’m sure they must be there too. I hope you’re ok living all alone out there. If I’d known scary things like that existed, I wouldn’t have left you by yourself.

 

            Anyway, I stayed close to my friends, but then I heard this ear-piercing scream of pain and fear. And . . . it sounded just like you.

 

            I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared by something since . . . well, since Papa. If Juliano hadn’t kept a hold on me, I would have run after you as fast as I could. I imagined you coming up to visit to surprise me and getting attacked by something before you could reach Ildon. Even after Tildy’s father, Castamir, guided all of us to shelter in Angrenost’s tower while the knights went out to find what kind of dark creature was causing the sound, I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. What if that really had been you, and I never saw you again?

 

            I miss you, Mama. I miss our life back before everything changed. I’ve tried fitting in here; I really have. But I still just feel so different. Take my best friend, Tildy. She’s been so very friendly and nice to me and generous with her things and her time. But she’s a Vourkehardt, a noble who lives in a big palace. For as long as she’s lived, her hobbies have been jousting and tea parties with the other noble girls. Tildy is becoming a squire next year, probably for the Tari of Idunia herself. She’s defeated veteran jousters with just one arm, and everybody I know admires her and expects great things from her. She talks so confidently and speaks and writes so well.

 

            Meanwhile, every time I talk, I can’t stop hearing my accent. I’m not talented or brave or pretty or well-spoken like her. Just hearing whispers in the fog makes me nervous, and seeing children my age get injured makes me feel sick and want to run away, instead of standing and fighting for my friends. Every kid I’ve met wants to be some kind of knight or brave warrior, while I couldn’t imagine something I’d want to do less. I just feel so out of place here in the big city. Sometimes I lay awake and cry and wish I could run back home into your arms.

 

            But I know I can’t. I promised you I wouldn’t come back, and I don’t want to break that promise. I promised you that I’d make a life for myself here, and that I’d find something that makes me happy. Some days, I wish I hadn’t made that promise. I was only five or six . . . I could be content doing just about anything. Now all I want to do is to see you again.

 

            I’ll keep trying, Mama. I want to make you proud. I’ll keep trying things, and I’ll keep smiling for you. Somehow, I’ll find a way to fit in here.

 

            Please write me back, won’t you?

 

Love,

𝑅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓁