My patient from my previous entry, Lefwin, is doing far better now. I am thankful he survived, but I do hope he gains healing beyond physical wounds. He is so young, but so pained. His strength of will is something to be respected.
It seems odd that I have not written for so long. But then, as I am mostly a crazy hermit these days, all wrapped in my plants and poultices, perhaps I lack in much to write of. Day turns to week. Week, to month.
Yet, fate would have it that I was forced to stay the night in Bree. The rain was too harsh for me to return home, so I decided to wait it out with a mug of warm cider.
It had been...well, a long time since I truly stepped foot in the Prancing Pony. It was the same, familiar inn, yet different. So many memories it holds for me. How is it they lack the feeling of reality?
Still, I was invited to join a kind man, Lothaer, beside the fire. I feared I would be out of my depth in conversing with a stranger who was not a patient, but I do not believe I have smiled or laughed so much in a while. I cannot recall the last time I had laughed before, as odd as it feels to be writing those words.
I never thought of myself as a sad woman. Lonely sometimes, but not sad.
Best not dwell on it. I met another man as well, who seemed to have rather the handful for a wife. His name was Ancot Lloyd. Certainly Bree-lander, but he seemed kind to us foreigners. (Ah, forgive my negligence...but I forgot to mention Lothaer seems to be of Gondorian descent. From my own mind, that is. He said nothing of his exact origin and I would not press.)
Still, it was a blessing to speak with this Mister Lothaer and Mister Lloyd, and I shall have to apologise to the rain I was cursing when I entered the inn, when I leave on the morn. Perhaps I shall be less a hermit these days. I had not realised how much I needed human company until I had it.
But, I best lay my head to sleep. I have dwelt upon these thoughts long enough this night.
