~ This crumpled parchment, singed at the edges, would lie littered roundabout the Combe district ~
I'm sitting here, sober, in the Comb and Wattle. In front of me the fire slowly burdened. It's soothing crackle always reminds me of the past for some reason. Behind me somewhere Lizz was busy with her never-ending cleaning around the bar. It was a quiet evening, the atmosphere was tranquil for a change. One I surely needed; I have been drinking a bit much. Should I think upon my arrival in Bree that fateful day, when I arrived in horrible weather on a farmer's old cart, I never expected I'd end up here where I find myself.
I came back from the filth of Lake Town a few weeks ago, from the desolation of my sister, raging with vengeance against those that wronged her. He got what he deserved, every single drop of dread that spilled through his lips. The crimson that flowed hot between my fingers when his dying breath begged for mercy, only sweetened my revenge. It was for the death of my sister. It was what I had to do. The filth promised her the world upon a bloody and soaked carpet of slaves. He poisoned her with his lies and showered her with rich presents. He got what he deserved.
Soon after, the other slavers, mostly Southerners and Haradrims, pirates that exploited Lake Town in its precious state of re-birth after the dragon destroyed it, heard of the killing of one of their more favorable contacts and started hunting me down. I knew the snitch would eventually give me away. After all, coin was coin in the docs. There was three of them by my door, two by the window. Only given time enough to grab at the sword I liberated by the bastard's mansion, I dived for the window. The two luckily, barely put up a fight before I escaped.
The coins for the horse... well, that was still in the room. I talked to Thallarn, asked him to acquire the black horse Taala sent me for. Told Taala, too, that Thallarn will receive payment upon delivery of the horse.... Well, fuck; shit happens.
The woodsman, well, that was a moment of pitiful weakness on my part. But for the sake of the marvelous Valar, that man was a pitiful sight. If I only knew he was part of the group of filth we were hunting. Then my thoughts flow back to the more recent past. Days spent in the Pony or drinking myself into a stupor. Weeks spent going through the normal routine, going through life. I start to again feel restless. The trips to the Shire has been rather pleasant, however. One needs a bit of company now and then on these trips, as it does become dreary. I'm still worried about Eva and how she and our child is doing.
