I've finally found a moment to sit down and put my thoughts to paper once again. The warm, spring sunshine is like a tonic, I find, and there are moments now where I simply sit by the open window, gazing outside, lost in all manner of pleasant thoughts. I suppose the confining nature of winter made me more apt to fill my journal's pages, and now that the land is blossoming and balmy, the blue sky beckons me outside more and more, and the parchment must wait! Though, I did return to work a few days ago, at the stables here in Hookworth, as well as Neyaa's farm. I wouldn't think of taking advantage of her sweet generosity.
I indulged a bit in some flowers at the Bree-town market yesterday. I've planted some bright orange blossoms in a few boxes out front, and filled an old urn with some lovely blue specimens that the vendor promised me were all the way from Gondor, though who knows how accurate such a claim might be. I find myself wishing the days could somehow be longer than they are. What a sublime place Bree-land is in spring! I love every moment, from the cool sunrise with the birds stirring softly in the trees, to the balmy afternoon with the dappled shade and the cool refuge I have here with my house up against a bluff, to the soft light of the lengthening evenings, and the promise of another night wrapped in my beloved's arms.
I do not deserve such happiness.
But, alas, I should recount the past few days in more detail, and not just go on about sunshine and flowers. Conrob, Baldmar, Avilina and I, all visited Aallan at the jail a few evenings ago. What a wretched sight, to see my dear friend in such a place! He seemed to be doing his best to keep his spirits up and the mood light, but anyone could see the weight that laid on his shoulders. We all inquired after him and tried to encourage him to remain hopeful about his fate; what more can we do? The Watch officer, Tholorast, approached us and was very civil. I don't believe the Watch wants to see him hung whatsoever. Not after the protests and riots of late. Though I know some punishment will be handed down, and it will not be gentle. My poor Aallan...
A very strange thing happened immediately after leaving the jailhouse. My friends and I walked to the Prancing Pony, and upon entering, heard some sort of ruckus coming from the area of the kitchens. Avilina wandered back there, and soon was shouting for us to come. We hurried to the sound of her voice, to find quite a crowd gathered, and quickly growing. A girl lay on the floor, dark-clothed. Several folk were sitting, kneeling, and standing around her, and everyone was shouting, so much so that I couldn't make out what was going on. I lingered back while Conrob and Baldmar both pushed into the kitchen to determine the scene. A moment later, a man pushed in through the kitchen door (the one that opens onto the back porch), and I felt as though time had stopped. I can vaguely recall him speaking, and the voice I knew. I couldn't seem to hear anything else for a few moments, and I felt like I'd fallen asleep standing up. I don't know how else to describe it. The gentle, dark-grey eyes looked at the figure on the floor, then around at the crowd, and then he looked right at me. I couldn't breathe.
Tothrandir.
I remember little of the next few minutes. Avilina went to search for a Watch officer, but none were to be found. People kept coming and going down the hallway, pushing and shoving. I didn't want to be there, but I wasn't going to leave. I couldn't seem to understand whether I'd really seen Toth or if I'd just imagined it, though why my mind would pick such a moment to torment me, I couldn't say. He disappeared rather quickly, which only added to the sensation that he'd been a phantom, and I have not seen or heard word of him since.
Such is the nature of these men. Fleeting shadows. Appearing and disappearing. Woe to the woman who gives her heart to one of them. She is cursed to be forever haunted by a phantom who surfaces out of nowhere and then melts away like morning mist, ripping her heart out every time...
