Eriador, laer
Evening
An uneventful day but a day of thought and contemplation.
I have returned yet again to Bree-Land and find myself sitting upon a bank reflecting on the days past. I frequent Bree and the surrounding areas far more than I had initially planned, though it was never a very accomplished plan.
I sit hear, chewing my lip as I recall not long ago, in early ethuil, I journeyed east from here through Lone-Lands and Trollshaws then up to the Misty Mountains, perhaps not the wisest of my ideas. I may not have been greeted warmly by the Dwarven folk, I was not turned away however. I kept to myself, out of their way and in return I was allowed to continue with my explorations and observation. The long nights. The iced peaks glistening as bright as the stars surrounding them. I admit, time ran away from me. I spent far longer gazing at my unfamiliar surroundings than I originally wanted.
I foolishly allowed myself to lower my guard at times, forgetting where I was, to become comfortable. Though most of the Dwarves tolerated my presence in their lands, there were some that did not and I was naive to let this slip my thoughts. Upon a cold evening, like the many I had experienced before, I settled in for the night, extinguishing my fire and taking a large hide from one of the saddle bags upon Ohtatyaro when her eyes widened as she snorted in panic and pulled at the rope tethering her in place. It was then I was suddenly struck hard across my back, with both my spear and javelins stuck in the snow on the other side of my camp as a makeshift wind block, I wrenched my shield and a small dagger off of Ohtatyaro and wheeled round to meet the masked faces of a handful of Dwarves. My eyes quickly fixed on the one closest to me, a large crude club in his hands, in an instant I sprung at him shield first, knocking him down, rolling over him only to plunge my knife into the second. The third however was quick, barely had I began to retract my knife when his axe was in mid swing, bearing down upon my crouched form. As I saw this I jutted my head back in a weak attempt to avoid his attack. Of course I was far too late, I felt a searing pain on my chin, the heel of his axe had sliced completely through my bottom lip. I fought on, killing two but still maiming others before the few left fled.
I left the Misty-Mountains that night, I had lost a lot of blood though I had bandaged my wounds with what I could, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I rode throughout the night and morning, I sought aid in Rivendell where I was granted it. I had several cracked ribs, bruising along my arms and legs and the laceration on my face. By that evening I was left with only a small scar on my lower lip, one that will no doubt eventually fade like the others in time; though I have developed a habit of chewing at it.
I started to ride back west after a day or two's rest. On my final day, I saw the sunrise as I rode into Bree-Land but I did not stop; I was heading for the town of Bree. I never made it that day however. Ohtatyaro and I were exhausted, we ended up turning down a familiar road either from lack of attention or something perhaps subconscious. Before I was entirely aware of my surroundings we had stopped outside a small cottage, Ohtatyaro’s legs shaking. I slid off of her back and relieved her of saddle, armour and bridle, letting them slide to the ground as I did. I then turned to head towards the door of the small cottage, my own legs threatening to give out beneath me. I took the handle, giving it a sharp twist. Of course it didn’t open. Then, with barely any thought, I kicked at the corner of the door rhythmically while shaking the handle as sharply as I could muster until I heard a small click and I let myself in. I lit standing lanterns as I wandered through the two small rooms, finally lighting a fire. I dropped my weapons and let most of my armour fall from me in a small pile on the floor. I then settled into a large chair facing the fireplace.
With my body resting, my mind attempted to catch up and answer some questions though probably the most important one eluded me. Where was I? Eluded me until I heard the door open and a warning shouted from the other room to either get out or have my life taken. I was in his house. I was probably just as shocked as his face was upon rounding the corner. He looked away from me and I found I missed his gaze. He seemed to soften towards me after a while and he allowed me to sleep in his bed. I protested but I found myself still collapsing into his pillows fading into unconsciousness.
Basaran. That’s his name. Basaran. A Man. I have become enamoured of a Man, of Basaran. Writing it down seems to make it all the more real, all the more peculiar yet thrilling. I well know the consequences of having the affections of a Man and returning them. But it is curious. Curious his reaction to me and mine to him and how even now, though we are apart, I find myself smiling at his thought. As is stands, I find no harm is befalling anyone.
Though I may be wise to seek council in the future on this matter, if only for advice.
