I know how lonely you’ve been, how you must have suffered, a thousand thousand disparate lives with only spectres and dreams to keep you company. How hollow the shattered pieces when you’ve seen the full, breathing picture - how blinding the light of hope becomes when it’s all you have.
Ironic, isn’t it? I was the memory you chased, and now when I’m here at the finish, waiting with open arms, I cannot find you. I know you must be out there, and remember *me,* your Azem, who would dye her light hair black with dye meant for robes, who would bicker with you endlessly over packing enough food for myself on those endless sojourns (you were right, you were always right), who wanted nothing more some nights than to come home to you and shirk the duties of the Convocation (knowing you never would, you were too good and devoted for that, you were, you were).
I miss you. I miss Hythlodaeus, too, of course, his sweet smile and voice of reason something we both often desperately needed. I miss the both of you so very dearly. In my mind, you’ve already found each other, and you’re happy, waiting for me to come home like I always did.
I’m sorry I was always so stubborn.
I hope, one day, I can tell you all this and more.