Greenlake Cottage, Pemberth in the Bree-land
47 Yávië in the Reckoning of Imladris
(Being the Eighteenth day of September in the Shire-reckoning)
The Bridal Tour has at last reached the limits of the Bree-land, with Cutch and I installed for a time at Greenlake Cottage in the hamlet of Pemberth. This was the place where my husband convalesced after his ordeal - despite my desire at the time to bring him back to The Lair. Caladna at the time used the argument that Teahesto would not have approved - and knowing that the stoic Elven captain is my equal in stubbornness, that would've been a battle fought for sheer ego, and not for Cutch's welfare. I relented at that time, so when Cutch suggested we come here at Caladna's invitation, I could not refuse.
We have ridden the lands at our continued leisurely pace, from Stock to Bree-town, spending a few days in lodgings at the Prancing Pony, while indulging in the local color of the minstrels, the feasting, and seeing the sights that are familiar to Cutch's eye. Friends old and new have passed through the town, and we have had many pleasant chance-meetings. It has been a very contented time for us, as we begin our adventure together.
Cutch's penchant for spontaneity has shown itself repeatedly during our journey, in many pleasing and exciting ways. He has gone to lengths and new levels with spoiling me. My favorite food and drink could appear at any moment; he will break into song during the minstrel gatherings, determined to make me blush (to which I respond in kind); and, at the most random times and places, he and I might "renew" our wedding vows...
...which brings me back to the present. Cutch is sleeping after another such renewal, and I am awake in the night and writing by lamplight. I prepared a mug of coffee for myself, though it simply does not taste the same as when Cutch does it (question the magic, break the spell).
He has also shown another quirk of his, that of devouring my wedding gift to him at every opportunity. He is rarely seen without my former journal somewhere close by, with multiple bookmarks dangling from its pages; he is always referring back to a previous entry for clarification of something, a most scholarly trait of which I approve. The odd thing is, he rarely brings up any topic of discussion regarding what he has read. I suspect, though I hope I am wrong, that he is being troubled by what he reads, though on occasion he reads aloud from an entry to bring laughter and light talk - but no deep converse has happened.
Is Cutch being overwhelmed by my thoughts on parchment? Or is reading my thoughts altering his? I do not like this uncertainty in the least, but I cannot bear to give it voice just yet. Is that selfish of me, perhaps? Maybe so - but I must trust in him and his own wisdom. I am in love with him, my Mortal fool, and I cannot now imagine life without him. Even as I write this, I gaze across the room to our bed, seeing him resting there, that slim and strong form that I have come to know.
And desire takes me. I shall wake him...
