I never expected writing in a journal. I was taught how to write when I was little, but the thought that my life would get so hard that I would have to vent to a stupid journal. That I never imagined. I suppose it sort of started when I left Rivendell. I had blamed Cuilelass for a lot of problems, though it wasn't her fault. Now in Bree, it is better but worst. I suppose the main reason I am writing in you now is because of the events yesterday. An awful man, named Norlow, took me, holding me hostage till May paid him off. Then May and Ross came to get me. Then it was just this morning that Hardoleth faced Norlow. That's when he killed Norlow, which was a surprisingly quick death... It was purely Hardoleth spinning around, slashing Norlow's neck, and he was dead. A part of me felt happy to see Norlow die, but another part of me felt sad for some reason. I feel guilty for feeling sad about his death. I should be happy, right? But alas, I am not. At least I have somewhere to stay at night, a bed is softer than the streets.
Well, I suppose that is all I feel like writing for now. Keep my secrets safe, you old journal.
