Sitting contently before the fire, Nihtwulf watches the flickering of the flames above the logs, a small smile on his mouth, a hint of mirth in his eyes. He takes out the journal and quietly records the events of the last few days.
It has been an odd couple of days since I left the cabin of Tam, Jess and Wolf, the main roadways have been quiet, but there are signs of turmoil if one ventures off them. I've stuck to the roads mainly, met a few merchants on the way, met a few stragglers hoping to find employment in new parts. Stout fellow with an axe I told to stop by Tams, perhaps he can get a silver or two helping out with the lumberwork.
News gleaned from those I have met has been sparse, little is known of the doings in the south, but most agree that fighting continues down there, even as it has come to a sort of lull here in the north. I hope to learn more ere I proceed to the wastes southeast of Bree, but even here in Combe, the news is sparse, and the barmaids are more keen on trying to catch the eye of a patron, than in what goes on outside their small town. I like it here, though one of the barmaids got a little too keen on trying to gain my favor, sweet thing though she is, I am not looking for companionship. My journey is too important. It was cute though how she tried to beguile me, first with a sweet word as she refilled my tankard, then with more open hints at her interest to spend the night in the small room I have rented here at the inn. A tad sad she looked when I politely turned her down. Still, she smiled and there was mirth in her words when she was told by the matron to stop it, and she replied "Bu' a girl 'as to try no?". The women are clearly more free in these parts, than the ones I remember from the meadhall.
Still, the difference I feel most keenly when observing the womenfolk, is that those of the mark carry themselves with a more visible inner strength, a more... if not serious, then somber bearing. Honor is not only that of the rider on the mark, but also of the ones tending hearth and home. It shows in subtle ways.
I plan to stop by one of the town criers tomorrow, to see what news there is, then the trek begins towards the east, skirting elven lands before i head south towards the gap. I must remember to heed that the elves have no love for our kind, and that trespassing into their realms oft is met with swift...justice. I'll ask for guidance from those I meet on the road, surely some will know whence the borders lie these days.
Nihtwulf folds away the journal and puts the small stopper back in the bottle of ink. With a content sigh he gets up and heads upstairs to the small room, hoping there are not too many bedbugs in the hay mattress.
