Dear Reader, if you are holding this journal in your hands and reading it, it must mean that I am dead or that I have misplaced it. It would be very kind of you to do following. If I am dead, please be so kind and send this to Miss Celnessyn in Tegwent, Bree. If I have misplaced this, do return this to me right away or I shall curse you. For it is very unpolite to read one’s personal journal.
If you however decide to read this, mark my words. I do not wish you to judge me, not too easily at least. I know very well myself and I know that I have not been good. But believe this: when in right company and with caring people, even the wicked souls can be kind and do good things to others. I might lie and change the truth according to what I wish to gain from others, but when it comes to my feelings towards him and my dear friends, my feelings are honest and pure. For the past six months I lived in Bree, I really felt love and that I could be the person who I am, not the person others used to believe me to be.
My mother has said that it was an early morning in mid-winter when I was born to this world. My parents were poor folk, for my father did not care much for coin and wealth. He was a lumberer and worked long days at a lumber camp. My mother worked in the fields, washed clothes, nursed children… She did almost any work she could get. For as long as I remember, I helped my parents at their work. When the sun rose, my father and I got up and went to the lumber camp. My task was to fill water skins, take food rations and treat wounds, should accidents happen. The latter task was my least favorite one, for I fainted easily from the sight of blood. And quite often I did.
I was a troubling child for my parents. I rarely did as they wished and often I got punished for causing mischief. And now you, dear Reader, must think that my parents just took away my favorite toys or had me be without supper. I had no toys, never had. We could not afford such items. My punishment was always beating or spanking, as some would say. It was done either by my father’s hand, his belt or a stick, depending what was near. After every beating I was more certain of that I was right and my parents were wrong and never changed my ways. But do not think ill of my father. He believed that it was the only way to make me obedient. Unfortunately for him, this did not happen. I became cleverer and learned to lie as I tried to avoid getting punished.
I was twelve winters old when I first realized that I looked different to others. There were not too many redheads like I am, that much I had gathered, but there was something in my looks that seemed to gain attention from men. But they did not dare to approach me, for my father had told that anyone who tries to touch his daughter will meet a terrible faith. Thus I could not use my looks to trick people much. Later I would and a lot.
When I was fifteen winters old, something unexpected happened. The only friend of mine wished to speak with me in private. I did not think much of this, often we did speak when others did not hear us. But what I did not expect was that he asked me to be his wife! I did not wish to be his wife nor anyone else’s, for I wished to travel, to adventure. My refusal took me into a situation, where my parents disowned me. And I had to leave my home at such young age.
For several years I traveled around the Mark. I lived a life my parents did not wish me to have. I lied. I tricked. I stole. I worked as a barmaid for several times, but most of my income I got from men. Do not understand me wrong. I was not a paid woman! I would never go that low, certainly not. I am far too pretty for that! I merely let them believe I would be theirs and they would give me jewelry and fancy items. And when they wished to wed me, I left them. As simple as that.
This all came to an end one day. And that day I shall never forget. A day before I had heard that Hilda, a fellow barmaid, was heart-broken. Her loved one had left her to marry a proper woman, as they said. I felt pity for her, but I thought that she would come around. It was just a one man and not even a good-looking one! On that day I and a bard took a walk in the woods. And as we laughed and he kissed me, I saw something strange from the corners of my eyes. I saw a pair of feet, hanging in the air. I quickly pulled myself away and what I saw was the poor and unfortunate Hilda. The bard ran to get her down from that tree, but I remained there, staring at her lifeless body and thought to myself: “That will be me one day. One day I shall get tired of living like this and decide to end my days.” On the following day I packed my items and left the Mark.
It was early winter when I first arrived to Bree. At the time I did not speak much of Westron. The language had caused me a great deal of trouble and I feel ashamed of speaking it. I do not know if it was my lack of Westron or my imagination, but Bree-Town seemed to be a home to most rude and unfriendly people. Later I did discover this to be my own misunderstanding, but the feeling stayed with me for a long time. I stayed at the Prancing Pony for quite some time, until I ran out of coin. I was not certain what I should do in this strange town to where I did not feel welcome. And I wished to leave; I wished to leave so much.
One day I took a stroll in the breezy winter air and as I returned to the Pony, I heard someone playing the most magnificent music I had ever heard. There was a group of bards near the hearth, but one of them caught my eye more than others. A man dressed in black, wearing the most ridiculous hat! I had never seen a man wearing such a large hat with a remarkable feather. I stayed for long time, listening to their playing and especially this man’s playing. And for days and weeks to come, I listened to him and eventually learned his name: Derenhir.
I managed to create a severe crush on this man called Derenhir, despite the fact that he was already taken. It could have been that I loved his music more than I loved him. No, I must correct myself. I never loved Derenhir, I certainly did not. My feelings towards him were shallow and childish. I merely wished his admiration as I always wished from men. But I never truly wanted his love. I did not even know what love was! Until much later I did.
However, Derenhir never saw me. He often spoke about his woman and even when he left his woman, he never ceased to talk about her. I must admit, I was very envious, for she was a true beauty. She was a perfect example of my kinswomen. Her hair and skin were fair, her face was perfect and her body had womanly shape despite of her profession. She was a sell-sword and she often wore armor rather than a dress. Even to this date the age has not faded the beauty of hers, and I am truly envious of that.
It came a time when Derenhir left Bree and this would happen several times. When he returned for the first time, he did seem to notice me and I did not know what to think of that. It seemed that his woman had found someone new and he needed comfort. And that comfort would have been me. I refused to be some man’s second best choice! Thus I did not fall to his charm. But it did pain me that he never saw my feelings towards him. And one day he was gone again. And when he returned the next time, I had already met someone who had begun to change my life. But that is a story that I share on the next chapter.
