It's unnerving, how comfortable I feel today. I think I'd gotten used to feeling scared, lost, confused, and all those other things, for such a long time. It feels very odd to sit here and just feel...normal.
I don't feel unsure anymore. I don't wonder what I'm supposed to do. This is where I belong. Right here in these fields and woods. I love Bree-town. Simple, dirty, smelly, and dear to me. I'm not going to go looking for adventure anymore. Every time I've dared to think that I could, horrible things have happened. I'm not going to ignore what the gods are telling me anymore. Stay put. Hunt. Keep out of trouble. Be happy.
Or try to.
I got a very curious letter from a fellow in Trestlebridge who says he needs to speak to me about the farm. I can't imagine what for. The house was ruined and it's unin...unliveable now. Can't really call it an eyesore when it's not even visible from the Road. But I've no reason not to go and see what he has to say, so I'll head out tomorrow at first light.
I haven't seen Rowan. I guess he went on his way west. I hope he's well and safe and maybe finds some version of happiness for himself. I wish I could have done more to lift his spirits, but the wall remains, and it's pointless to try and knock it down. I've known the man long enough now. That wall isn't coming down by anything anybody says or does. He's got to take it down for himself. I don't think he ever will.
Also haven't seen hide nor hair of that Wyndham fellow. Maybe they just went on and left town. No skin off my back. Though it seems odd that he'd spend a whole evening questioning me, making me shoot at a target and skin a rabbit, and then just leave. But, I've seen folks do plenty of odd things. Maybe he just wanted a freshly skinned coney without getting his hands dirty.
One face that I have seen is that of good old Dag. We met again in the tavern a few evenings back. As I always seem to do, I'd been worried that he'd just vanish without a word and I wouldn't see him for another year or two. It's hard to describe how it feels to be around him now. I mean, how should we feel? When we knew each other almost two years back, we were both different people. We were selfish and reckless and lustful and ready to die in a blaze of anger and hate and love and all manner of crazy things. Where do you pick up again when so much time has gone by, and so much has happened, and so much has changed?
Still, there's a familiar ease with which we talk now. In some ways, it seems like no time has passed at all. I can't wrap my mind around the memories that I have of him. It seems like another world and another life, and at the same moment, it feels like he never left. Can he and I be friends? "Friends"? I don't know. I don't think so. It worries me a little to say it, but I want to be brutally honest here. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he'll prove me wrong. Maybe he doesn't want anything but an old, friendly, familiar face to talk to while he rebuilds his life here. Maybe.
