Just a quick scribble before I make my first sortie out of town and see if I can pinch a few rabbits for some coin. I've never had my pockets and purse so empty as I do now and I don't like the feeling one bit. Rowan's generosity saved my bacon for sure, and I had a few extra coppers that I've managed to stretch, along with Butterbur's good graces. Dear Gungur promised me at least a dozen arrowheads, though I can't pay him upfront, which grinds on my senses something awful. He insisted even after I refused to accept them, bless his beard. I've never had proper dwarf-made arrowheads, and I'm eager to see them and try them out.
Another man, Wyndham he called himself, might hire me to guide himself and his friends around the area in a hunting party. His father's got a tannery in Lake-town, and he's looking for folk to go back there and apprentice and learn the business, I guess. I had hoped he might need someone here in Bree to supply skins and furs for when they pass through, but he said they aren't even sure they're going to stick around here at all. I'm suddenly slapped with the choice (if he decides I'm skilled enough to go, that is) of being spirited away from Bree entirely, and going to some far-off city where I don't know anyone or anything. Isn't that what I said I wanted? Or at least, might want? Hop a caravan and go see the world? So why is it so stupidly terrifying to think about? Why do I feel like I want to run into the Chetwood and hide in the trees that I know so well and just stay there? Mister Wyndham made me shoot a few arrows at a bale of hay and then skin a rabbit while he watched. I hadn't shot an arrow in so long, not since before I got lost and fell ill, and I don't even rightly know how long ago that happened. It was still winter. I could just lead their scouting party and see what they think of me and what I think of them, before making up my mind, I guess. He offered a huge amount of coin to do the job. Enough to see me through the whole summer without another worry.
But in the meantime, I have to eat, and none of my camps are set up for sleeping, though it wouldn't take too much work to do it. Gods, I think I've gotten a bit soft from sleeping in a bed the past few weeks.
I was hoping to see Dag again. A reckless thing to hope for. Right? I didn't see him, though. I did see Jonn, Josbert, and Holt, though. Silly Holt, he was all bathed and scented and so pleased with himself. It's good to see Butterbur doing so well as the weather gets a bit more agreeable and folk are out and about in the evenings again.
All right, enough. Put the pencil down and go take care of business.
