Quite a few moons have passed me by since that evening I wrote of the words I could not speak, that I dare not speak. Nostalgia the subject of my last entry, nostalgia and longing. I have had little time for such fears and musings since then.
The business I built up myself from scratch has come under threat, I have in truth been the recipient of good fortune, for all my woes in the material sense. From one man and a wagon, to a venture that trades across Eriador. It is oft seldom that I write of affairs of business. For they have gone so smoothly. With the proceeds I have bought the old leatherworks and in the intervening weeks the village in which I live now has a new Inn, it has become the heart of the community. Serving the local tradesmen and labourers who now no longer have to tread beyond the confines of the community in order to get a drink.
Why, you might ask. Would a man so prone to wandering plant roots so firm as to become the keeper of an Inn. I have oft questioned myself with regards to this matter. I am no closer in the understanding.
Inn's are safer investments than the moving of cargo depending on where you locate them. Where men live, men want ale. Without fail. Such a demand never ceases with the coming and going of the ages. I can think of no safer Inn in Eriador than mine, nestled at the foot of the village only a short distance away from the looming hall known to be home to a band of Sellswords. Home to a dear friend of mine. No, I am glad of my Inn in such dark times as otherwise I might have faced financial ruin with the malaise that has fallen my caravan company. A traitor within it's ranks, the treachery of whom may cost me my business with an important Hobbit within the Shire. I am still uncovering the depth of his betrayal but it may be worse than I feared.
Cargo lost, a man dead. A band of Orcs, well organised and well fortified near the Greenway, within striking distance of Hengstacer's farm. I have had to halt my operations along that road, critical as they may be to the war effort in Trestlebridge. Until the matter is resolved. These are dark times indeed. Only my routes within the Bree-lands itself remain undisturbed as well as my trade with the Eglain. Were it not for the hard-working efforts of my caretaker, the woman who handles the day to day operation of the Inn keeping me afloat. Keeping me whole. I fear the pain I could inflict upon the first person to test my patience.
I am fortunate enough to have come into great wealth in the material sense, I could probably sustain my lifestyle, minimal as it is for a goodly long time. I have no need to dine upon the finest of foods or clad myself in the richest of garments as men born to it. I have no entitlement. Yet even the greatest of fortunes dwindle over time and that is why I cannot let this business fail. Not because I am so insistent on remaining wealthy. Coin can not buy you happiness, I know this too well. But I have striven and toiled to be a self-made man. When my father and stepmother died, I renounced the custody of their fortune when I left my woman and child. This has been my goal, to prove that I can make my own destiny in the world and my own wealth without having to have had it handed to me on a silver platter. As much as it was an excuse to travel also. Not only that, but the livelihoods of the men I employ depend upon it. Their wives, and their children for their daily bread.
Strangely I am thinking of my own children, scattered though they may be and with very different women for mother's. When the fates eventually do take me. I would wish to ensure that they and their descendants never go without opportunity. Never have to endure the life or experiences that I have had. I have known poverty, and I have known what it's like to be without your daily bread. My children, they may be better off growing up without me. Sheltered from the demons within my head but I will do right by them from afar, as I always have.
Mounting paperwork diminishes my spare time. The serving girls at the Inn have noticed it, shut away in this study have I been for so long attempting to keep on top of two businesses, one of which I'm making a loss. I do not fail to take note of their whisperings.
Meanwhile at the back of my mind is the thought that I could be a father once again. Time will only tell. But I cannot shake the notion from my mind. A lover I had taken who wanted more than I could give. A woman I have considered a friend. Taken up with a man whom I increasingly do not particularly like much. Though I encouraged it. I need to know that the child is not mine. Blind insistence to the contrary cannot prove otherwise, I need to see with my own two eyes, the child when it is born. Then I will know for certain, one way or another. I do not desire for another child but I need to know. Otherwise they are of no consequence to me. Let them be content with one another. It would seem her interest was only dependant on whether we shared a bed or no in my affairs or my well-being, but I have said enough on the matter.
My evenings have been made much more tolerable with the presence of a face and form now come to be quite familiar. Though I blink, and close my eyes, and I still cannot believe them upon the opening. What was I thinking when I made that proposal? Jesting aside, I feel something when I am with her, warmth, a sense of peace as I have noted before. I do not know what. I cannot trust these feelings, Yet invite her to accompany me on my business trip to the Shire I did.
Words upon the tip of my tongue find voice, though not all. I am wary of the path this will lead me.
