Aakusti remains against all reason. He has taken up residence in my garden, which is more than a little annoying. I dislike sleeping indoors. I dislike feeling shut away in this brick and wood trap. However, I am not willing to rest under the starlight at this time lest he get the wrong impression, thinking that I have chosen to join him as he wishes.
I cannot for the life of me understand why he is so insistant that I be his. I am Estaravi by birth, yes, and I have spent much time learning of the ways, history and language of my people, but that is where all similarities between myself and my tribemen ends. Angmarim women are supposed to be tall, strong and tough, alike the land in which they live. They are supposed to be ruthless and cunning, able to hunt and kill wargs and men. They are supposed to be obedient to their men. I am none of these things. I am the worst possible choice for a wife to the cheiftain's son, so why is he so set upon claiming me for his own?
In truth, I have never understood why any man might desire me. I know what I look like; too small, too slim and too scarred to be physically attractive. I know the manner in which I act; distant, calm to the point of almost being cold and it is rare that I allow or seek physical contact with anyone. I am not the type of women, then, who would please a man on his wedding night.
Yet still men speak to me of their desire, proclaiming their attraction or, in some cases, love for me. Seaver spoke of his attraction only this afternoon. Luckily, he has a woman of his own and seeks naught more than friendship from me, rendering any rejection of him unnecessary.
When I pointed out why I should not be considered in such a manner and professed my lack of understanding, he was kind enough to explain. He said that I am possessed of an elegant quality and unobtainable nature that serves to make men want me. My scars, he mentioned, may detract a little from my beauty yet they, along with my fragile appearance, cause men to wish to protect me, to prevent me from being further hurt or scarred. In essence, then, men want me because they know that they cannot have me, and because I bring out in them a need to protect me from others.
This is a conundrum. I do not want to be desired but, in being myself, I am. It strikes me as ridiculous that anyone could seek a mate on such spurious pretences as "I must have her because she is beyond my ability to have." To harbour a desire based upon ethereal nonsense is irrational and can lead to nothing of any true value.
I hope that Aakusti, and others, may yet come to see this truth and leave me be, abandoning their desires for me in favour of actual affections held for others.
