It was a bit more than a week in the Lone-lands, and I am already back in Bree, but only for a couple of days. Back home, the gorse is beginning its season-long bloom; its cheery flowers will shine back the smiles of those who know where to find it from now until the frosts. The land is awake, the winds picking up, and everywhere, there is stirring. I cannot stay away long.
Besides, I have a cartload of yew to gather! I haven't had a moment to start on that. Frideric was hardly going to let me have time for my own pursuits after how long I was in the Soft Lands, so he kept me hard at work. At first just on everyday things, but soon we had a mission, and a dangerous one. And it went entirely wrong, perilously so. Not just for me (and the other scout who was part of it), but for the entire tribe, if it weren't squared quickly. We'd unwittingly stirred up what could have become a hostile foe with reason to seek revenge.
Squaring things up involved some sneaking, and some cunning planning, and quite a lot of blood, some of it ours. But while we both have bandages here and there, neither of us was seriously injured. I cannot say that the peril is averted entirely, as it now falls to other scouts to monitor what came of it, but it will be blunted at the very least.
After a few more days of hard labor at the needs of the tribe, I'm now in Bree long enough to deliver my book to the Scholar's Stair Archives, which I did last night, and to visit the market today. If I see Marnewyn I have some herbs for her dyes, and will tell her the wood is not yet ready. I hope to also find this Gafford to ask after the metal items, the pot and bucket and air-locker. And there is some tribe business to attend, of course, which is why I was allowed to make this journey! Those cake things that the hobbit sold have proven quite popular with the scouts and I am sent to purchase more of them, and to inquire after an arrangement to trade for more, perhaps regularly. And, if I can, to buy some cheese-cloth from the weaver on the High Stair that Sareva, the tailor, directed me to.
After my business at the market, I will spend the rest of the day copying notes from the books that I can find about brewing, then the yellow face of morning will see me making back for home. Sadly, without pipe-weed. I still cannot find a way to secure any, with all my coin going to the brewing equipment. An empty pipe is a sad one, even when the gorse smiles!
