In a certain inn, not too far away, a young woman sat by a table and looked at a journal lying on the table. The journal's cover was red leather and pages were fine paper, more finer than she could afford with mere barmaid’s salary. But as she saw it on a market day half a year ago, she knew she had to save it. At the time she was just a farmhand and she had no idea that her life would be turned around. Perhaps buying the expensive journal was an omen.
Should someone who knew her well see her now, sitting by that table, they would be astonished. Her face was pale and her cheeks were dented. Her long red hair was on a messy braid and it is clear that it had not seen a comb or a brush for several days. But the worst was that the shine had left from her once so warm and bright blue eyes. Now they were emotionless, dead. There was not even a hint of a smile on her face. The usual bright smile or mischievous smirk was gone.
One may wonder what has happened to the girl. Pretty girls should not be this saddened, no, they should think about cakes and dresses, plan for feasts and picnics. But she didn't want to think of such matters. She had only one thought on her head. She needed to write the story down.
It has been five days since she returned home from the ill-turned journey to Trestlebridge. A group of brave men and women had gone there to bring a man in trouble alive back to his home. Instead, they brought a badly deformed body and sad news with them. The girl barely could hold herself together until they reached Bree, not mentioning what happened afterwards. First she helped Celnessyn to prepare the body for burial and then a man confessed his love for her. Not to mention taking care of a badly wounded woman. As if she wasn’t suffered enough, she was told the real reason why he left to Trestlebridge. And it broke her heart and soul.
She didn’t want to stay no longer in the house she once called her home. She didn’t even want to stay in Bree. All of it seemed to cause her pain and remind her of what she had lost –and what she never had. However, she did as Celnessyn pleaded and travelled to a certain inn. There she rented herself a room and in her room, she fell into a bed and decided she never gets up.
For three days she stayed in the bed, crying. She barely drank or ate anything, just enough to continue living. Because only thing she wished for was to die. But stubborn person she is, something kept her from harming herself. She didn't want to speak to anyone. And she didn’t want to return, ever again. Only emotions she felt were anger and sadness. She wasn’t certain which one of them was stronger. But of one thing she was certain. She hated him. She hated him so much, as much as she loved him.
Then the next morning she got up from the bed and sat down on the table.
“I need to write the story down”, she thought to herself. “I need to write it down before I forget it.”
The girl shook her head slightly and corrected herself.
“No. I will never forget what he did to me.”
The girl opened the journal, looking at its first, still empty page. She reached for a quill and dipped it into ink. She swallowed slowly as she pressed the quill on the paper and…
So she began to recall the time she first entered from the gate of Bree-Town.
