I've had another letter from Master Maurr. It feels like nothing but sad news to me. Not only because old Master Yurri is never returning to Bree, but because he has died. I'm thankful that at least I got to offer some sort of comfort to him in his last days, holding his hand in the Soothery while he fretted over his health and his usefulness. Seeing such a strong, stubborn person fall to tears like a child touched my heart deeply. Master Maurr says he passed away under the mountain and surrounded by his own people, so for that I have to be glad, even though it is tragic tidings.
Sadder still is that Master Maurr and Mister Doc won't be coming back yet, and he doesn't know how much longer they'll stay there. Of course, Master Yurri's death must have been an awful thing for them, and they need time to grieve and recover. Master Maurr says he will send the yarn for me and the ale for Master Tumunir with "his brother Bild". Does he mean that Master Bild is his actual, blood brother? If that is true, I feel quite stunned that I never knew! But since they are not coming back soon, I will write to Master Maurr.
I had a visit from Jerry the farmhand. He were polite and pleasant as ever, though I were probably a bit down in the mouth after having read Master Maurr's letter. I thought about asking him if he were going to the supper party coming up, but I didn't. Not yet, anyway. He stayed a good while, I made us tea and we finished off the apple tarts from Missus Holbrook. He's fair easy to talk to, and I've come to appreciate that from a person. He doesn't make me feel foolish or backwards or like something's wrong with me. He's about as easygoing as an old tomcat snoozing in the sun. Maybe this is the sort of person I'm supposed to think about my setting my cap at. Just a simple Bree farm lad who doesn't expect me to be anything but a simple Bree farm lass.
Of course, my heart hasn't entirely forgotten him yet. I suppose such things just need time and patience. I've seen plenty of Bree lasses who can't wait to hook a fellow on their arm and don't care halfway who it is so long as he's a bit handsome. I don't rightly understand what their hurry is. A woman's reputation is a brittle thing, Ma used to say. And once it's cracked, there's no putting it back the way it was before. Why not wait for the right lad the first time around? I don't mean that lads and lasses can't ever smile at each other or have a dance or a flirt. But there's them that do things we all know young folk shouldn't be doing till they're married, and then they wonder why the village buzzes about it and folk don't look on them with much respect after.
Oi, I get so off track sometimes when I start down this garden path or that one! What was I going to write next?
Even Jerry mentioned that I looked like I were limping worse than before. That's two people that have said it now. I don't want to think that it's anything more than the winter coming on soon, but it won't do to bury my head in the dirt and pretend. It took me most of the evening to suck up my nerves and go knock on the Soothery door. When there were no answer, I remembered that Mister Dimheim said I didn't need to knock, so I tried the latch, but nobody came. I went round to the barbershop, thinking he might be in there, but it were empty, too. Then I remembered Mister Aeru saying something about taking him to another town, but I didn't catch anything else, like where or when or for how long. Did he just up and leave, without a word? I guess he did. Since I don't know where he went or when he might come back, or if he ever will come back, I'm left to decide if I should just wait and ignore the hurt, or go to Bree and see if I can find another doctor. I'm out of the lavender oil and the tea, and with the nights as cold as they are now, it hurts enough to keep me awake sometimes.
Missus Hopmead left me a note under the door, asking me to come see her at the Crow's Claw when I have an hour to spare. She said she has a surprise for me. I suppose a supper made by someone besides me would be a nice change.
