I'm writing this outside today! Isn't autumn the prettiest and lovliest (?) time! There's a fair gaggle of birds in the birch trees behind me, singing their hearts out. I took off my shoes since I'm sitting down on the bench, and the grass is so cool and soft under my toes! I can smell a bit of the apple tree from here, and somewhere in the village someone's burning leaves or the like, and it smells so good!
I heard someone talking about a harvest ball when I were in Bree yesterday. I were never allowed to go parties or dances when Ma and Pa were here. They insisted I were too young, even when I were almost eighteen summers! I think they were just not wanting me to be around the lads and keep me safe. Though safe from what? Smiles from lads? A dance or two? Who knows, they aren't here to ask about it now.
I wish I could go to something like that. Just once. I mean a proper dance, with people dressed up fine and music all evening long. To know what it feels like to have a fellow beside you and know that his eyes are on you and only on you all night long. That must be the nicest feeling in the world. I couldn't be doing fancy stepwork, of course, but... well, it'd be nice to have someone to practice with, more than Mister Dimheim tried to help me with. Because, maybe if I practiced enough, I could learn to do it better than just "hold onto him and try not to fall". But as Ma used to say, "wishin' ain't gettin'". And that's the truth. I don't have anyone to practice with and I sure as heck don't have a fellow to ask me to go. I tried pretending that I were dancing with someone when I were outside last night, and I don't think anyone saw it, but it were no use anyway. I can't pretend to lean on someone who isn't there. It doesn't matter either way. I could be the best dancing lass in Bree and still wouldn't have a lad to go with.
The apples won't be fresh much longer, so I took another basket over to Mister Dimheim. I know Doc likes them, too. He weren't sure if they needed them, either. I almost said they could just toss them to some ponies or pigs around the village and it wouldn't make no difference, but I didn't. That would've sounded rude, even if it was true. I'll take a basket over to Missus Hopmead and see if she can use them for pies or jams or something.
I stayed and talked to Mister Dimheim for a while. He seemed especially kind for some reason. Maybe we're just learning better how to talk to each other. Maybe he's doing better than he was. I don't know. It were just a really nice visit. He listened to me talk about Pa and Ma and even if he were just saying whatever he thought he should say, it were comforting and calming and helped me. He asked if I needed a hug and I could almost cry all over again for how kind that were. I wish I could have hugged him, but I promised I would be careful with my heart and a soft-hearted lass can't just go around hugging men like that. I tell myself over and over that he's just the doctor, just the doctor, just the doctor.
The truth is, I'm afraid to care about anyone. Seems as soon as I let my heart feel things about folk, they vanish. They die, they leave town, they this or that. Just like I feel myself caring about Master Tumunir and Master Maurr, and they're nothing but a couple of dwarves boarding in the house. And they won't stay here forever, they'll be gone one day, too. I'll miss them, I can tell already. Master Maurr is jolly and lively, and Master Tumunir is grumpy and prickly like an old boar, but I like him anyway. They're so amusing to watch together when they talk and one be laughing and the other be barking.
Does anyone ever stay?
Mister Dimheim said I should visit Pa and Ma's graves. I think about doing that all the time. Sometimes I look to the west when I'm standing in Bree and I whisper something to them, like they might hear me, even though I know they can't. But I don't go near the graveyard itself. I guess I'm afraid to. I'm afraid of seeing it with my own eyes. The stones with their names. The earth growing over their bodies. Gods, just the thought makes my hands go cold! He thinks it might help to do it, though, when it comes to the time when they died, which will be soon. I wonder if Emory ever goes there. I should try it. It can't hurt to try, can it?
