As I sit in the charmingly dilapidated haven of gloom called the Forsaken Inn with my gorse journal before me, thinking of what to write, I notice that the last twenty pages are almost completely given over to the subject of brewing (to be fair, that includes about six pages copied from the books in Bree's Scholar's Stair Archives, rather than my own writing, plus several copies of my shopping list, as I kept crossing it out and amending it so much as to need a new start). Have I become a bit too obsessed about it? Perhaps! Maybe during this evening in the company of old friends like Anlaf, Jess, and Glynn (perhaps not friends; there should be another word for people you know well, talk to a lot, would do things for, but don't actually like that much), I should focus more on other matters. This journal was meant to be about the pursuit of merriment, after all. So apart from noting that there's a cart full of yew waiting by the stable to be delivered to Marnewyn for barrels, and inquiring after the bucket that might be waiting for me, I won't speak at all of brewing.
Then again, when I think about the chance to find some merriment in meeting people while I'm in Bree, I can't help but think how much of a mixed bag came of my last visit. Might I hope to meet people who don't find my coarse, unschooled Eglain ways too off-putting? Perhaps hear a few tunes, find someone to dance with? Converse and be merry? Maybe not, but it can't hurt to try. Even on that day of many ruffled feathers, there was the helpful woman, Clarador, and the most charming inn-keeper, Briony (I do seem to fare better with women than with men; perhaps that's why I usually work with Leofwenna when assignments call for two).
I'll also have to do some shopping, which is after all my reason for being in Bree (Frideric does seem to have decided that I'm the one to send, despite my fumblings last time, because apparently I do better than most of the others, or because I don't complain about it so much). I'll be seeking some farming tools and supplies, notably seeds, some healing salves and other materials, and fabric in quantity. The latter being why I'm bringing the cart (that it's full of yew for barrels is just a handy coincidence! that's my story and I'm sticking to it). Maybe I'll have a chance to shop for those other things I promised not to write about. And to see how the inky-hands in the Scholar's Stair Archives feel about my book now that they've had time to read it (if they have a bunch of things for me to change, I may scream). And with any luck, to get a good price on some pipe-weed, as I think I've saved up enough to spare enough for a pouch or two.
Despite all that, I certainly hope there'll be a chance to hear a merry song or three (for one thing I need something to wash Glynn's songs out of my ears), or to play some if not. And perhaps more than that. It's important, especially in this aptly-named inn, to not dwell on failings, but instead to cling to every hope!
