Why did you presume to duel me, Yellowhair? Did you think you could win? Or did you simply refuse to be defeated quietly?
Do you remember what it was like to have people to protect, Deceiver, to look upon faces and feel affection, love? Or was that burned out of you as you pledged yourself to one who would never look at you and feel the same.
I had hope, yes, that I might prevail. Not so vain as to think my song could defeat you in your entirety, in your might, but perhaps, had I been stronger, I might have exhausted you. Given us enough time to move past your stolen stronghold and into more inviting climes. At least, I thought, I might buy lords and Barahir’s son enough time to move while I held your attention.
So yes, I hoped. But I can admit this: it was desperation what drove me to it. I had thought to avoid meeting you face to face, to avoid taking you on directly. I hoped, but never thought, that I could win.
And you my kin too well to ever believe we might ever allow ourselves to be defeated quietly.
I don’t feel shame in this. I was strong and you were stronger, and yet-
my song was mine own. It came from me alone. You, already a shadow of your master, cannot create but only corrupt, and your song was made of my fears and my regrets, my anger and my loss. You twisted but you could not shape anything new.
You were a craftsman once. Do you miss it?
