Found:
It's been another... interesting day.
Balnirar has recovered somewhat less well than I had hoped. He has been quite forgetful today, needing me to tell him several times how he had come to hurt his head. In the end, I stopped correcting his claims about me rescuing him from jail by breaking in and opening the doors for his escape! I'll simply wait until his mind is more present and then tell him the truth of the sorry escapade.
Meanwhile, in return for my bailing him out, he has decided to appoint himself as my bodyguard. Of course, he has also decided that I simply must accompany him in his search for the brigand promises that he will keep me safe whilst doing so. One can but hope that this plan of his will be forgotten in short order, but if not, then I will have little choice but to go along for his sake... and hope that Rowan will later understand and forgive me for it.
And, perhaps, for helping Gregwald in his endeavor to fool a man. He assures me the man in question is of the throat-slitting variety, and that the deception is simply a means by which to give him what he wishes whilst getting away unscathed. What he asks for could be quite complicated, and easily seen through if this man is observant enough. I simply have to hope that the ruse will work, lest my young friend lose his head in a rather permanent way.
In other news, I saw the Umbarran again. I remain unimpressed. Second impressions are, if not as bad as the first, giving me little reason to think any better of the pompous arse. For now, I let him believe that I do not understand his words; all the better to allow him to speak freely in my presence. Easier, then, to gain a fair idea of what he's truly about rather than relying on what I can see through any carefully constructed guise he may don for passing in a land so strange for him.
Or for anyone, really. Bree is chaos incarnate some days!
For example, this morning Rahvic announced that he had returned to his house only to find a two-year-old boy dumped upon his doorstep with a note naming the child as his son and begging for him to be taken care of.
So, now, I am Auntie Silver to Jamar, an adorable little imp with eyes as green as bottle glass!
Rahvic, smitten though he is, is barely more than a child in action himself most days. I dread to think how, or even if, he can rise to this responsibility! Still, as much as I am willing to help, I am only the aunt. I am not the boy's mother. I'll leave that role to Cyriah, who seems all too eager to oblige, although she may soon come to the conclusion that she has bitten off more than she can chew.
Time will tell.
There was another. A... Khazim, I think his name was. Another Haradrim man and friend to my brother. He seems thoughtful, almost philosophical, and less hot-headed than the others I have met either here or in the South. My conversation with him was brief but pleasant, and he does not seem disinclined to humour.
If nothing else, I'll have much to occupy my days even if my nights remain cold and lonely.
