The young man still sleeps.
My plans to visit the town had to be delayed. I need to keep an eye on the boy and am I uncertain that I could hold my tongue if I were to cross miss Cesistya after hearing what she has done.
He told us about his friend George, a very sick man that's weak of body and coughing blood. From what I understood, the man sought out the elven woman and was told to make way to Rivendell. I don't know why she decided to play such a cruel joke on him. She, of all people, should be well aware that a simple Man cannot make it to the haven of elves, he'll never find it on his own. It's unlikely that his illness can be cured, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth to think that she sent him off to die on the road, with either a false hope of a cure or a peaceful death in a hidden place.
Bíld suggested that it might have involved his journey to this haven, but he's not gone yet. Why wouldn't she send the man to the soothery if this was the case? At least now I can put her words to rest, for she is far crueler than I.
We've been warned that the man's illness may jump and so Bíld offered to seek the man in his home, that we thankfully got out of the boy. Bíld assures me that his kin cannot get ill and I can only trust his words, as I'm still unfamiliar with that area. I'll need to ask him and mister Maddoct more on this when time allows.
Bíld informed me that he found the door locked, but has left a note. I can only hope that the man was asleep and that he hadn't started making way to a place he'll never reach.
Elven medicine is magic. That's what the boy told me. I don't know whether it was the elf woman who made him believe this, or if his belief comes from an old bard's tale, but the thought causes me frustration. These false hopes given to desperate men and women who are not ready to leave this world. I don't doubt elven medicine, but there's no magic to it, there's no miracle cure for anything.
I'll hope, for Bíld's sake, that he can learn more from the elves and their way of healing, should he be able to get there. That he returns here with new knowledge, which we may use to advance the practice of medicine, while not having to lie to our patients, give them false hope or send them on a death march disguised as salvation.
With luck, the man will reply to Bíld's letter and we can try to treat him in his home. While I had planned to keep him in isolation within the barbershop, Bíld made a note it would be safer and more comfortable for the man to be treated in his own home. It wasn't a thought that had crossed my mind until mentioned. I don't look forward to Bíld leaving on his journey, he's been a good help when it's come to such things.
If the man's illness is as dire as we fear, at least he'll be dying in his own home and I can ensure that his passing is peaceful and painless.
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Hopefully miss Winkle hasn't been put off visiting here again after all that she saw. I had been looking forward to sitting with her after such a long time, to listen to her stories and give my mind some rest.
Almost as soon as we sat down, everything happened at once. I was unable to tend to my hobbit guest and she bore witness to some unpleasant things. Everything has been cleaned and the soothery aired out, but I wonder what I can do to make this up to her. Maybe visit the bakery?
It appears that my new cook has resigned. I'll keep the posters up for now in hopes to find a housekeeper or at least a cook. If the boy is to stay with me for the next few weeks, I can't be feeding him bread and a slab of cheese for every meal. In times like these, I wish I hadn't been forced to dismiss miss Denton from her work. She was a good woman and a good cook, but even my patience has its limits.
