I suppose you are half-expecting to read that there has been another significant jump in time given the content of the last page but I must dissappoint you. I am here in my study, quill in hand.
From the missive I received from the Ranger lover requesting a meeting, though I can't quite imagine what it is it will achieve to the chance meeting of an old acquaintance of my father. A cutthroat one can only presume if his past acquaintances are anything to go by.
The Captain's daughter and the Dalesman visited of my home even if it was only to talk of the missives we had all got from the Ranger lover. I must admit when they knocked upon my door I was heavy of heart, reeling from the night before. Half a mind to turn out my most needed possessions and bolt for my horse and ride and simply not stop riding. I had no desire to confront the matter which they came to discuss, I have gone long beyond the point of even caring. The child is not mine this has naught to do with either and they were in agreement with me except the Captain's daughter wishes for some sort of reconciliation. Well, fine. I will hear what the woman has to say if she comes alone and on my terms. Aside from that I enjoyed their company it was welcome and I went to bed with a smile upon my face feeling light of heart. If only for that moment it was quite peculiar. I tried to speak of the man I had met in the Inn as she came first and the Dalesman interrupted but I found myself talking of the man later anyway and the man's curiousity I satisfied. Even if it was only to tell him what he was before he came to Bree. The blood of his line which runs strongly in my veins no longer a secret for either of them. His predisposition toward keeping confidences has marked him out as a man I could potentially trust with more information than I would your average man in the street. For he could have told his wife that I had lain with my childhood friend though chose not to.
I have been a busy boy indeed. So has the new Captain by the looks of him. I don't actually believe what I'm seeing, I strode into that hall of mercenaries today and within days it is clear to see that the man is clearly determined to stamp his own imprint among the company. Which is all well and good, but no. What startled me was, when I knocked upon the door of the office I saw a man at his desk, could you believe it? I never had such luck finding his predecessors for the most part on the off chance. And he's even offered someone the role of quartermaster after so many mentions on my part in the past given the dire lack of organisation which has always bothered me even though it really shouldn't. I'm not even a fully fledged member anymore. I will need to speak with this new quartermaster. I am contracted to supply the company now with drink.
Since I last mused as to the identity of my stable girl. It turned out to be none other than the fair maiden who I first met in Bree-town and barely even knew before she seemed to cast aspersions upon me and my lifestyle. Yet she speaks so clumsily and it has become clear to me that she has a tender heart. When I learnt that she had taken a job in my stables I must confess to being quite merry. And given that she colours as a red rose so swiftly I'm afraid I could not help but torment her and then one thing led to another and... We ended up dancing. It was a jest, really. But as I suggested it she surprisingly took me up on the offer and so it came to pass that I ended up making merry with this strange lass. Music full of cheer, she was not blind drunk but she was more drunk than she should have been on one cup of mead. Yet by the end of the songs despite the wicked notions that half came to mind I was not that drunk myself and I brought myself under control.
Some days passed without incident until one evening it seemed neither of my waitresses were available to bring me my supper. And that is when she came to me with it and the conversation that took place completely took me off guard. It had started off innocent enough. I simply asked of her whether she had got home safely and apologised for my lack of professionalism, telling her that it wouldn't happen again. And any other might have simply replied that they had and the chat continued more pleasantly. But as the information she provided to me began to sound very suspicious my natural curiousity got the better of me though I did tell her that she did not have to provide the answers to my questions should she have no wish to divulge them. She relayed to me the tale in spite of the great difficulty that she had in the telling. I did not need this, she had put me in a precarious position. She told me of how her father had in effect sold her to a man of wealth and power as though she were cattle. At first it sounded like slavery until I realised that she had likely consented to it, a lifetime's wages and a contract for life. But delivered to her father who still likely enjoys the fruits of her labour. How the man can sleep at night I do not know and I am a man who has committed many deeds some would consider to be beyond the pale.
But I have touched upon men who ill treat their daughters before and my absence from the life of my own and yet that does not lessen my love for her. Not all fathers love their daughters indeed. So she tells me. A precarious position also indeed, for as she recounted these events to me I felt a stirring in my heart of sympathy as to how she seems to have been so callously abandoned for a man's own greed and you might say an indignation as to how she had neglected to tell my innkeeper of this potentially vengeful employer who it seems as she has told me that he wants her back and had made those plans clear. To her credit, she did offer to tender her resignation but I still felt somewhat deceived. As her current employer she had thrust this upon me and made it my business whether I willed it or no. How could this not affect her position with me?
As she rose to leave I also found it within me to directly ask also why she had looked at me so strangely as though fear had gripped her that night outside the tavern until her guard dog appeared and she replied to me just as honestly that she had been warned not to be alone with me. That she had heard there had been a string of women in my past and it has been said that I have committed murders in the past. You know as well as I, the unfortunate soul that flicks through these pages when I am dead and gone assuming that this book survives me. That I am guilty of both proclaimed sins, though I question as to whether the former is truly a sin compared to the latter. Perhaps to those of society wedded truly to the notion that it is a crime to partake of flesh before you have bound yourself in perpetuity to an individual you may not even like or love in some instances if the marriage is arranged. But I do not share those values. Dreadful of me I know. Oh, the shame of it.
No, I am glad to have 'sinned' with so many women and I have enjoyed them as I would like to think that they too have enjoyed me. I did not lie and proclaim undying love to any of them. I looked her in the eye. I am but a man, I have as a result a desire for those who are fair to look upon and have stirred my passions. I said as much in far cruder terms. Am I to make apology for something so natural? I am reminded of the Gondorian bookkeeper's plight. Of how she was shunned from her society simply because she had lain with the love of her life on account of not already having said some words and having exchanged trinkets, even though they had planned to and the ceremony itself had meaning for them but ultimately that is all it is. And that was a man whom she loved no less. I would never cast aspersions on another for something so absurd.
Even if you do want to settle down with one man or woman, when making purchase, whether it be a home or furnishings, items of permanence do you not first make certain of the quality and longevity of such items? Try before you buy so to speak.
Yet because this Gondorian woman swelled with child before she had put the ring upon her finger oh it was so terrible.
My father never loved my mother and yet I was conceived. My mother never loved me any less and still it was to be a secret that I was my father's child. I grew up in such deceptive circumstances. Words in hushed whispers as to the truth of my conception in the late hours. Why should it even matter at all? I've fathered bastards myself. I am the bastard father of bastards. I have two sons and a daughter that I know of.
Should I have married their mothers and ended up breaking my vows and making their lives miserable even though I did not, or no longer did love them as so many fathers have done or be true to myself. I know what I am and I don't think I can change and I have woven enough deceptions into my life with which I adhere to without further weaving of them.
I was to utter a deception to the accusation of murder of course, to lie. And yet I was not a threat to this woman. That much was true and so she slipped from my home. I would have to contemplate what to do with this fair maiden.
And yet she came to me not long after and tendered her own resignation but a night or two later. Assuring me that it was not her intent to try and deceive either me or the keeper of my Inn. She had simply thought her prior employer had lost interest. Supposedly she resigned on the account of her fiancé finding out that she worked for me and his fears that either she might stray or I might try to impose myself upon her. This I would not do, stunning beauty or no because she is engaged and I would not lay with her for that very reason as well as the fact she was under my employ but I can understand why such a man might think I would. Still, before she was due to depart I don't know what possessed me but she is a sweet young thing and I offered to pay her debt to this vengeful employer of hers. Expecting that she would not take me up on the offer. Yet my pockets are plenty deep and I have the means though I still barely know this woman. She is down upon her luck and I suppose I must be soft when it comes to such tales as should she allow me I will aid her though she has not asked me to. To her credit. I suspect she would rather me have not.
As she was due to leave, we were interrupted by my childhood friend of all people. This is where I find it difficult to put pen to parchment. I seem to be afflicted with a fog of the mind where she is concerned.
I am still here in the Bree-lands at the time of writing, only a few days have passed since she bolted from my home and yet it seems despite those spoken words I am not yet several hundred miles away. No, I already tried that. Since a long night I spent at her farm where I had not expected to see her. Helping give birth to a foal no less. Dark confessions which struck her dumb, though to my surprise she recovered and accepted my reasoning. I also spoke boldly myself words that I did not want to speak. Of why I left for Gondor to try and sever this connection. And so she now sleeps in my home having shared a bath together and I continue this foolishness.
And yet, worryingly. I feel as though I want to.
