The Thief and the Burglar
« L'histoire a sa vérité, la légende a la sienne »
Victor Hugo
(History has its truth, and so has legend.)
Life is filled with regrets. Even when the memories fade, the bitterness of regrets lingers in the mind, at the tip of the tongue, drowns the soul in darkness and draws lines on faces that are still young.
But that's the thing exactly : regrets are the privilege of living. A body which falls on the bloody ground of the battlefield does not have time for regrets. There is light and blood and pain and the end. But there's no regrets.
When the body fades away but the mind is still there – that is truly terrible. Because there is time for regrets, then. Stories will be told about how Thorin recognized his mistakes, as he laid dying, and how you tried to save him despite your past differences. But the stories will never mention the shadow clouding Thorin's eyes, the pain.
They will never mention how you seemed older, all of a sudden.
They will never mention how we all tried to hide their grief behind clothings of dark material and tears that meant nothing because the pain ran too deep in our blood.
One day I'll remember. I'll remember everything : the good, the bad, those who survived, and those that did not.
One day I'll remember and I'll write about it but I will lie, for heroes might feel pain but not like this. I will lie because the truth is too horrible to be told. With one simple sentence, I will talk about the losses and the war, and the fallen soldiers and the fallen king. I will talk about it, but I will not talk about it.
I might be the burglar, but you are the thief who melted with darkness when darkness took over. You are gone, and I am left alone. And every day the excruciating pain of regrets weighs me down. And that is the only proof that I am alive.