Leoffrith

It's a quiet, warm spring day, and I have nothing really to do but lie back in the grass and watch the clouds roll by; and I find myself thinking of all the other warm days I spent like this, with no desire to do any more. My ma would probably be yelling at me to do this chore or that around the farm, or at very least, trying to push me to find some ambition to do something, anything.

For a while I've been worrying a little about when I'll be kicked out of the house I'm staying in. It's properly owned by one of the Knights of Eriador, the folks whose settlement is what the village of Hookworth grew around. Being Knights, they go off on long journeys in perilous places, and sadly that means sometimes they don't come back. This particular one is owned by someone whose name I don't know, who has been gone for several years.

Four whole days of study, nearly. It started with a book, which isn't a promising start for me, what with how little practice I've had with letters. I had thought Miss Brynleigh would just tell me all the things I needed to know. But there's just too many ways a horse can become ill or injured, far too many to memorize. So the best way to start learning is to read the book, the whole thing.

Miss Brynleigh made me think winter was going to be far worse than I ever experienced, but she was thinking only of winters in the Mark. She forgets the last two years I spent at Woodland Hall, which was far colder than here, and for more of the time. Bree has had more snow, and some of its cold days would rival those in the eaves of the Mirkwood, but then there's warm and sunny days almost the equal of the Mark, and the snow melts away.

There's no reason to be worried or nervous, folks tell me, but I still am. Today's the day two meetings happen. I meet the father of the girl I mean to court, to ask permission; and she meets Kestrel. I'm not sure which one makes me more nervous!

From the moment I awoke beneath the looming bulk of Weathertop, my thoughts were bent to home. With any luck we would be there before nightfall, and my thoughts had already arrived. They had raced ahead to the stables, seeing how Jack was doing, and whether Muffin was still skittish. Visiting with Miss Brynleigh, telling her about Imladris, wondering what she would think of Mirwen's conclusions.

When I awoke I felt like I'd been turned into brittle stone, and every movement was another chance to shear off another piece. I ached so badly that for a moment I asked if I could just lie still another few hours, or days. But Miss Adri told me what I already knew to be true: that moving about might make the discomfort greater at first, but it would ultimately aid in the recovery.

The air remained biting cold, just on that edge where a bowl of water left out would develop a thick skin of ice by morning, as Miss Adri and I made ready to cross the Fords and make our way through the wooded gorges for the Last Bridge. The sun was bright and unobscured by clouds, so we had no trolls to divert us from the road.

The stars were bright and sharp as I made my way out of the Last Homely House, my possessions bundled and ready. Miss Adriellyn was to meet me at the stables, I was told, but when I arrived there, Rascal was already gone, and the stable-keeper told me I was now to wait at the bridge near the path to the High Moors, as she had some last-minute things to attend.