Large, looped letters can be seen scrawled over poor quality pages, sewn into a portion of thin scrap leather. It is obvious that little thought was put into it's construction: it is more a craft of necessity than a work of artful binding. The second entry reads:
II.
Much has happened since I last wrote in you, lovely journal. Birds are singing and my heart along with them -- I'm finally feeling the way I did in the late summer, when it all began, but moreso... It feels even better.
Perhaps it's simply my selfishness shining through, I don't know. But my heart thrums in my chest when I look at him. I feel utterly daft, in the best of ways...
Two days ago, Hudd and I set off accompanying Katilyn -- have I mentioned Lyn to you, journal? She's the sweetest thing, if a bit odd. She's my younger cousin, on mum's side. Lyn's about fifteen and a smidge shorter than me--likes hanging around me and Hudd. I don't mind it at all. I daresay I'm starting to think of her as a younger sister of sorts -- she's got a paternal Uncle in Bree, called Otis Woodman. He's a bit grumpy, or so Lyn says, but it's good that she has an excuse to travel a bit. Let's her see more of the world and whatnot ('sides, it reminds me of the days Allie would have me meet her in Bree, but I like to think I keep a better eye on Lyn than she ever did on me...).
Right, as I was saying: Hudd and I went along to Bree with Lyn. I lingered around some of the shops and the Pony while he and Katilyn went off to find that uncle of hers, and for the most part it was fine. Came across the loveliest hat in the market, although I kept from buying it. I never do wear hats, though I always think I will. I'm sure Nelly would blame every last one of my freckles on my aversion to them, but I'm rather fond of them anyways so she can very well shove off and mind her own. It's like having little constellations all over my body. Lucky Hudd doesn't even have to go outside to stargaze at night! (Is that crude of me to say?)
My day in town took a turn for the worse, however, when I stopped by the Pony for a snack and a pint. I rented the two rooms for the night, had a seat at a table in the back. Then some idiot woman comes along and punches me in the arm? It didn't even hurt, and I think that the disappointment in her abilities only added to my feelings of befuddled annoyance. What would you know, but she's fond of one Miss Ibota Wormwood (who I'd desperately hoped never to see again after that one incident in early winter). I'll not speak ill of her in writing. Well, too ill, at least. Apologies if I'm bitter about her threatening my Hudd on behalf of a band of ruffians! They coerced him into aiding their friend what was stupid enough to get caught by Arthur, if you believe it! I hadn't thought Hudd had gone through with it, after the insistence between the three of us -- me, him, and Gafford -- that we'd do nothing to help them in the bending of the law. When Wormwood mentioned it, I showed no surprise, but in full honesty I was hurt. I wish so dearly for him to trust me.
Hudd and I discussed everything that night, after Katilyn was safely tucked in bed across the hall from us. Perhaps the three drinks gave me a bit of well needed courage?
I asked him about the matter with Snout and his lot of brigands, and he came clean. Said he'd spoken to Arthur to get the criminal out, sentenced only with a bit of service to the Town. He said he'd never told me because he feared me thinking him weak.
The thought hadn't even occurred to me. Hudd is many things-- he's dedicated and driven and soft-hearted (and a little bit narcissistic), but there's a strength in being soft. He did what he had to in order to keep me (and Ford, at the time) safe. I couldn't ask for any more than that, and to think he'd...
That wasn't all we spoke of. I don't fully remember everything, as the hour is late and I'm rather tired. I'm writing at the kitchen table, you see, with Hudd asleep in the bedroom. But somehow we got to the topic of love. Shocking, I know, considering we never shut up about it--I swear we must be the most saccharine pair in all of Breeland, though admittedly I'd not have it any other way--and I finally cracked open. I asked him if I was enough for him, even with Gafford gone (Stars, here I go tearing up again), and we talked for what felt like forever caught up in half a second.
The next day we traveled home. I'd say it was today, but for the fact that midnight must have passed me by hours ago.
But Ellie, you may ask, why is your heart singing so damn much? You found out that the love of your life lied to you and then you cried about your insecurities! That's not happy!
Well you see, dear journal, it was what followed that sent me into such a mood as the one I've freshly inhabited. It sounds much less impactful when I recount it, I'm sure, but despite everyone who's left: Alicea, Faelo, Gafford, Jack, Mum and Da-- I don't think he shall ever leave me. He's said as much, and I'll be the first to admit that we both cried, but you see... Hudd is as much mine as I am his. He is more than I could ever hope to have, and I am everything to him. No one simply walks away from that sort of love, do they?
Good heavens, I sound foolish (though I suppose love can make a fool out of anyone).
Until next time
Love,
Ellie
