Seldom and oh do I mean seldom do I ever touch a pot of ink and a quill.
It has now been a month since that bastard left me, that fool of a Caravan lead. What is he to do without me? Me of all in the caravan, I who have defended it more than I can count with my very life!
Goodness, what will my mother and father think? They'll think me dead, and have another child and spend another small fortune in educating the boy, or girl. I mean quite honestly, I often wonder what they do think of me.
Was I to stay in Dol Amroth, and drink wine over political matters? Or perhaps they wished for a son who'd be a Captain or some great hero. I'm no hero, I'm a man. I enjoy wine, good company, and pockets of coin.
It will be far longer than I can imagine before the Caravan loops around, and goodness that rat better hope I don't catch him. He didn't even have the decency to leave me my own horse.
I must say I'm damned lucky he ran off, if he hadn't I'd be poor and starving at this point. I found him wandering just an hour walk from the southern gate of Bree. Smart horse I've always said, smarter than some lads I know.
I never thought I'd write in this leatherbound tome of hatred and loathing again. Seems these pages won't be empty for very long. I've got work to look for, I'll not be poor or wanting here.
Of all the places,
who wants to be stuck in the Blasted Bree-Lands?
