Found:
3 tin spoons.
A battered helm of unknown origin.
6 tarnished pewter buttons.
To the pit with this dratted little town and its delinquent inhabitants! The sooner I'm gone from here, the better.
I rode for hours after leaving that village behind with no direction or destination in mind. I was lucky, then, to find a ruin not marked upon any map I have studied of these lands. Large, broken and not in the Arnorian style most often encountered here, I thought I had stumbled across some luck. Alas, there were a group of half-orcs living within. I was reluctant to face them at first - after all they're not my usual fare - but as I sat and pondered matters, I suddenly found myself possessed of a great anger.
After all I've done - arranging a place to stay for the boy, securing him a small job that he might have some sense of purpose, trading my most valuable relics for his lessons and even going so far as to care - this is what happens?
She saunters along, applies a few bandages and suddenly she deems herself fit to be his new mother? Knowing that I act - or rather acted - as the boys guardian, she took it upon herself to call in mercenaries without consulting me, relocated him without telling me and then offered adoption without discussing it with me. More than that, the girl didn't even know how to go about it! Promises made without a clue or consideration! Ill-prepared, thoughtless, impetuous and impulsive.
I found the half-orcs required only a little more tactical thought than would my normal foes. They may be more intelligent than wights or goblins, but they're less agile than spiders. That I saw her face upon each one I felled was of some help. Cathartic though that was, I'm not convinced that imagining her in their place is a healthy way to deal with this.
I dug for a while, then I left. The place still has potential for all my meager findings, but a drink was what I craved the most. A return to Bree ensued. Another mistake.
Pretty Little Eorling - Brywulf, as I recall - found me there. I was just trying to enjoy my wine whilst it was still warm, but he, it seemed, preferred to engage in a game of Pin The Guilt on Silver. It's not something I've played since my days in Rohan but I remember it all too well.
"Don't you feel bad?"
Why, exactly, should I?
He has all that he needs, all that he wanted and more. I supplied most of it, for goodness sake! I've done my part. I've nothing left to give that hasn't already been taken and nothing left to offer that hasn't already been spurned. I'm no longer his guardian, I'm certainly not his mother and he has more than enough people who love him. He doesn't need me. Certainly not the way I'm feeling at the moment. Livid does not look good on me.
Onto Evendim, I think. With or without Toddir.
