I decided I won't put names in you, Mr. Journal. In case someone finds you and reads you. I'd prefer not to say this person killed this person if the first person is my friend and I did not wish to reveal the truth. Or I love this person and then have them or someone else find you just to gain ways to mock me. So instead I'll use little nicknames that only I and perhaps the other person would understand. The first one, the drunk friend I told you about earlier, being Forgoil. Now there's a lot of forgoils in the area, sometimes more than I'd like. But this one is special to me, also he's slightly less of a horse kisser than the others. I won't go into detail on why or how and perhaps I might tell you later. But for now, he's my only friend. Well, he's the closest thing I have to a friend.
Now you might be wondering why I call him Forgoil. That's something only he and I would fully understand, a key part of our friendship. My people and his have hated each other for generations. Which we find highly amusing and a chance to be sarcastic about. Most forgoils aren't as fun about it, they get offended or upset. I suppose it is understandable if they grew up in Rohan, unlike my friend, Forgoil, and I who both were torn away from their homelands from a young age. Perhaps that's why we get along as friends, otherwise I probably would have tried to kill him and he me. I guess I'm grateful for that fact alone.
So anyway, Forgoil left sometime when I fell asleep. Hopefully not to get into another brawl or to get drunk or something. I worry about that a lot. Now if you asked me outside the confines of this journal, I'd probably just shrug and say people do stupid things and die everyday. I probably would say he had every right to, it's his life, his freedom. I would ignore it and change the subject to something that would seem more appealing to talk about. I would be apathetic. But in all honesty, Journal, I don't want to loose my only friend. I care about that silly horse lover more than I'd like to admit. It's kind of dumb of me to be honest...
...Ah well, you must think me silly.
I'm rambling for no reason now. I shall leave you, I need to tend to my foot. The swelling hasn't gone down. Be safe Mr. Journal.
