Scribe

She turned in bed, still sleepy when indelicate knocks on her apartment doors were to wake her up. Dawn was on the brink, and it earlier came by each day, so she didn't light a candle, and went to the doors, opening them she found her homeowner already gone but pitcher with hot water at the foothold. 

Today was a day to remember. After a smooth but tiresome travel through Eriador, delivering freshly made parchment and newly bounded books to several of my foreign patrons, I found myself at the roots of the Redhorn. O' mighty that mountain is, towering so high even the clouds cannot reach its summit! My road, however, was not to take me over it, nor under it, but instead, I chose to take the road south and followed the Misty Mountains into Enedwaith.