Dear Diary,
So, if I want this to catch the eye of some future Treasure Hunter, it must have a title. Since not everyone in Bree-land knows their letters, and I want it to be clear I do—my dad taught me mine—I've decided to literally alliterate my literacy. Therefore, this dynamic diary of doubts, deliberations, and dramatic descriptions of daring do's shall henceforth be known as: Rarely wRitten Random Ramblings! Of course, being the serious person I am, I may later decide that such a title is simply too silly to keep. But we'll see!
Now, on to recent events. The other day, I felt my shoulder had healed enough for me to withstand the rigors of riding, so I settled my account at the Prancing Pony Inn, took both my steeds, and headed to my parents' place. It was a bitter-sweet ride, knowing what I was about to do. Of course, it's always nice to visit Mom and Dad, to catch up and reassure them that I'm still alive. However, this was likely to be my final ride upon Glorwen; I was giving her to my parents.
She and I have been companions for some time now. Still, having her trail me around Rohan for a year and then all the way back was simply a hassle, especially when we came upon more dangerous areas where I knew I might have to protect her should we be set upon. Yes, this was for the best, and having another strong horse available should make repairs to the town much quicker.
Heh, I remember coming up with a rather mischievous plot along the way. I would come through the door and announce to Mom that I was bringing a lady home...and then show her the mare. No, no, no, that would simply be too cruel. I can just see myself laughing, but Mom wouldn't find it funny. And then she would just be pretending to be happy for my entire visit. Besides making the best cookies, there are few things Mom is better at than making me feel guilty.
Just outside the gates to Archet, I ran across a young man named Baraion. Turns out he hailed from Gondor, but apparently grew up in Archet, before the attack. He was on his way there delivering supplies, so we rode together and talked a bit. While he seemed primarily concerned about wild boars—and indeed I did see one to the side of the road, though the sickly-looking thing fortunately kept its distance—I was more distracted looking left and right, expecting some menacing Blackwold to jump out of the bushes at any moment. Of course, there's little danger of that happening; the few guards patrol the roads rather regularly to make sure supply shipments are safe. Still, something about being back in the dale made me feel...vulnerable, powerless. Like I was still some wide-eyed lad clutching a piece of debris, trying to ward off looters, all the while hoping no one comes close enough I'd have to actually attack. Too many old memories.
I won't waste page space describing how I felt upon entering Archet proper, with its foundation stones still blackened, and some buildings still nothing but an empty lot. I made my way through the streets, stopping to reconnect with as few old acquaintances as possible. Finally, I made it home. Well, the new, small apartment Mom and Dad have been living and working out of. Mom was surprised to see me, but easily fell into a happy embrace. Dad was out fixing something, or trying to, but he came in after a shout from Mom.
Greeting Dad is always...a little awkward. Each of us not sure whether to go into a hug, half-hug, or simple shake of the hands. Usually we just settle for a hug. Frankly, growing up Mom and I were always closer, with Dad always being hard at work, and me always looking for an opportunity to read or take a walk through the trees, learning all I could. I feel we have some difficulty relating. Still, I'm always happy to see them, both of them.
It's been a couple of days here now. Many stories have been told, though I leave out most of the frightful ones for Mom's sake. I lent what help I could with whatever projects they each were working on. Regrettably, I couldn't do as much as I wanted, since I'm still trying to let my shoulder heal. Doubly regrettably, since as a lad I was never the strongest, and after years of wielding sword and shield I'd love to be able to use my added strength for something productive. There's always next time.
Tomorrow I set out again. Despite having my parents here, I have trouble staying in Archet for very long. Too much pain. I'll ride out to check up on my small house in the hills south and east of Bree to make sure it hasn't been damaged or looted in my absence. The neighborhood is rather safe, but you never can be too sure.
Or perhaps I'll visit the village of Hookworth, which I keep hearing about. It could be that there I will find the aid I seek to pursue my goals here in Bree-land.
