Combe

The morning chorus is all that can be heard in Bree as I make my way to collect the items I agreed to bring to the Market in Combe. I arrive outside the mess hall where the good Lady is waiting several large piles of clothing neatly stacked await transport.

While carrying the clothing we talk quietly although it is not long before we sight folk also heading to the market. I chuckled as she apologised for amount needing carrying I simply dismissed her worries and thanked her for an opportunity to repay her.

- ...and then I told them I had important things to attend to back in the north, so I left.
- You left your commander wounded?! Son, this is not what I taught y..
- Father, it wasn't much left for me to do. We were in a safe place and some of the militia stayed with Arundar. I was useless there, answered Athanaric, frowning a bit hearing his father's harsh tone.
Wealda shook his head and gazed in the fireplace for a few moments, then took a sip from his tankard and layed it down on the table slowly.

"I hope you chose well, my son. Because if you didn't, I'll be expecting you to return here. And that wouldn't make me too happy, I've had enough of you in the last 26 years or so", said Walda. "And the Militia?"
"This has nothing to do with them, father." said Athanaric. "At least not with master Arundar."
"So you think you can manage both.. Well, then."

Dear father,

I bring you salutations from Bree, together with a few tidings and matters of import to our family. But first of all, stop blaspheming: I am sorry I put you through the torment of reading, I know how you loathe this. I promise next time either I will be the messenger, or someone trusted, who can tell you news of me.

A few little pieces of memories in a marmelade of feelings, that's all what's left from my little childhood, before the age of 4-5 years, and before you.
Then, quite instantaneously, things found a logical place in the world and in my head. It was not just a flash here at home, and there at the fisher's shop, it was now the full way between. History and geography have bloomed simultaneously in my past.
One thing i clearly remember, is when the old Martha gave us our first book. She was the one who was teaching to read to the children of Combe.

Kuzgun