Race

They say life is a race. People dash from start to finish, living fast, living hard, from one point to another. I never understood this - my life was always free, slow and deliberate. I walk where I wish, do what I want and never chase after time - doing it all at a steady pace, whenver I get there. Sure, I prepared for winter each year, I wanted to claim my name and grow, but never did I rush it. Even as a kid, thanks to my mother's influence, I took things slow. Even preparing for the onslaught of the seasons, I took time, starting early to not have to rush. But now, I race the winter, as I return home from this land, that I thought might be the home for me. I do not regret getting here - confronting the past, even the pleasant one, is good. But I am slightly annoyed that I dallied so long, in search of something that was never here to begin with. My home doesn't have to be in Bree, but it also doesn't lie here. These people are not as I thought, intriguing, but also very stubborn and as close-minded as those from where I was born. I am a stranger to them as I am to the city folk, they have their hatreds and their preferences. Just like bree-men, except wilder and tougher. They are a lot alike, a thought which amused Oakhaft a great deal. It would probably amuse bree-landers too, I might have to ask and find that out.

But for now, I race home. Before the rivers well up from the rains and the ford in the Trollshaws is impassable, before the snow falls and claims the passage through the Valley of Giants.Writing about racing and the Trollshaws brings my thoughts towards elves, makes me wonder if I'll ever meet one - but there is no time to search for an elf right now even if I wanted to. If that is how people live, constantly speeding between points with no time in their lives to actually live them - I do not envy these people. I much prefer my freedom, even if it is bereft of kinship they all feel. Though it does get lonely at times, making me wish I had one to share it with.

Perhaps mother is right and I am getting older and sentimental. I do not like that thought. If I am old, then she is venerable. And while I know that one day, she shall die and I will be left without her guidance, I do not entertain that thought a lot. Time is merciless, but being it's slave is not the way to live.