Penned in precise and evenly lined sentences, a blank page near the middle of a slightly scuffed, top-grain leather journal is newly inscribed. If one were to flip past the filled pages to the very beginning, one would find the first page titled with: Bernie Tweed, Bree-land followed by a series of odd symbols.
19 Thrimidge
Bree, Bree-land
≡ Horrible start to the day. Woke to a nasty raincloud hanging over us, got all soaked straight off. Lucky for Mrs Indoril she had herself lain out under a broad tree so she were spared the soaking mostly, but yours truly had slept with a mouth open to lungs swimming some modest paces out. Lent my wide-brimmed fishing hat to the lady to protect her nice hair from the sopping mess all round, and if she weren’t married I’d put down here just how well she wore that!
Let the lady change out of the boggy clothes in peace and went down to the nearby pond to fill my canteen again, for I gave what I had to Oakley afore. Fish were leaping everywhere because of the weather - spied a couple fat bass even taking a leap to get some of that water above.
Now me and fishing are a thing. They call to me, the fish, and I need oblige them. So I pulled out my tackle and rod and cast out. Which did not impress Mrs Indoril one whit once she rejoined me, for the lady eats no beasties what can look back at her, preferring only fruits and greens as I can understand. Took the wind out of my sails right quick when she wouldn’t have a thing to do with it after I offered to teach her to angle. Couldn’t have the lady standing round twiddling her thumbs while I make the acquaintance of a mighty fine looking bigmouth, so I packed up and we continued on the way for her mission.
Cut through Bree, which were mostly quiet and empty on account of the lousy weather, for the next place the lady needed to visit were something called a ‘Gathering of Bears’ and I knew right where that were. That one pleased me none what so ever, for I’d be quite happy to see every last of them brutes turned to coats and rugs were there the opportunity. Them are thieves and villains to good gentlefolk like myself, and me and mine have lost many a good hive to their mangy maws. The worst part of their raiding is they’re never happy with just taking the honey, nay! They’ve got to eat the bees and their babes inside too, like they’re nothing but tasty nuggets on the candied combs. So I wanted nothing to do with them and I munched on some biscuits from my pack while the lady did her missiony work up in them ruins alone. Guess there were some ragweed up there in the ruins, or maybe the bears had the tiny jumper bugs on them, for Mrs Indoril came back down with eyes reddened and watery.
Still had time for the next spot on her odd little list and it were nearby I knew too, so we made our way back into town to climb up to the ‘Best View of Bree.’ On the way up I even scooped up a handful of smooth rocks from a farmer’s plot for old time’s sake.
See, when I were a lad and pa and ma were still kicking, pa’d take me along to market in Bree every so and again. Now young boys never find selling and buying and haggling over bent coins as interesting as old folk seemed to, so I always ran round the town with other boys likewise looking for more fun than deciding how many loaves of bread were worth a chicken. And we had our own games we played; sometimes it were Bard’s Gate and sometimes we played Caverns & Creatures. But nearly always, at some point we climbed way up behind the Pony and played the best one of all: Doll Shoot. Perched way up high, we’d watched the crowds below and wait for the best targets, which were pretty girls. We were just youngins then, you get, and afore we realized we wanted to kiss them, we threw rocks at them. So that’s what I did way up top as Mrs Indoril were tending to her missiony thing.
She were not pleased when I explained it to her. I wanted to throw all my rocks at her, but she’s married anyhow so I dumped the rest on the ground as we went back down again.
Mrs Indoril already had a room at the Pony due to her far-travelling, so we planned to stay the evening there. Kindly offered me to share her room since going home were too long a walk, but as said before I respect the bounds of marriage and I don’t test the limits of propriety. So now as I write she’s most like to be cleaning up and changing into nightclothes and I’ll be soon drinking until this barstool becomes cozy.
OOC: Haha. This will not be lived down. Ever.
