Among the possessions of Sir Esther is a book of worn leather containing amateurishly bound pages, telling of the regular additions over the years. The cover is well-cared for. Yet, each leaf of paper is tear-stained which has marred the generally neat and careful script of the Lady of Letters.
These are the last farewells of Esther to her family, friends, and acquaintances. The short letters grieve for their loss and speak to the personal pain and misery of their author, Esther the Mourner.
To the memory of Argle, my beloved sister-in-law,
Our household changed for the better that blessed day you married into our family. With your quiet, warming presence, our manor was full of stories and wonderment. A sweet folktale to chase away tears, a cautionary tale to scare disobedient children, or a wise parable for us lost adults. The loss of my brother to war left a deep, paralysing scar in both our hearts. But together we shared our grief through night after night of tears. Together, you gave me the strength to carry on and come to peace with our collective loss.
But now you have been snatched away from me, from Idmiston, from all who you would have touched with your love. I have not felt such pain and utter, utter misery since the day news arrived of Percival's passing. Why, why must misfortune befall good, kind souls? For now, I take comfort in that you and your beloved can finally rest and finally be together.
In the confidence of this journal, I share with you my darkest worry. In the evenings, as I lay tear-ridden in bed I wonder... if I hadn't made that deal in the Forest Sauvage, to invite sorrows onto me in exchange for Nimue's protection... would you still be here today?
With great, grieving love,
Esther
* * *
To the memory of Sir Brietta, “Mountain Lady”...
Out of our entire family of knights, you were always the favourite aunt of my dear Nimue. She called you Mountain Lady and in the secrecy of my diary I confess that I thought it appropriate for years. I thought you a brutish, cold, uncivilized individual. I thought you uncaring, wishing for nothing more than to cavort with your beloved faeries rather than face the difficulties of the world.
I have never been so wrong; so deeply ashamed of my pre-judgement. You are a great, inexorable mother bear; quiet, introspective, and slow to rouse. But when others threatened your beliefs and loved ones, you were unstoppable and fought for your righteous cause. Sir Brietta, you were decisive, brave, and strong. The heart of a lion tempered by a heart of gold.
Yet just when my eyes were opened to your courage and nobility, just when we opened up to each other with loving respect, you are snatched away. No. That sentiment does not do your actions justice. You would want us to celebrate your legacy - paying the ultimate price for your loved ones and for the future of Logres.
They say that the mountain does not move. But you, the mountain, have moved me. Without your firm foundation, I don’t know how I can find the strength to carry on. You wished me to be your anchor. But with your loss, I too am now cast adrift.
Your little bear-cub,
Esther
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