illness

Last night there was a knock at my door. When I answered a man was there with a babe in arms swaddled tightly. His hair was very blond and was disheveled and wet from sweat, he appeared out of breath and quite pink of the cheeks. I immediately sensed he had run to me from his home with the child.

I write as though to a friend, though it is only to myself. I had never thought of writing in a journal until now, but it seems as my new life begins, I ought best to chronicle it. For whom, I cannot say, other than myself.

Sera returned home just as the sun was beginning to set, tired but rather proud of herself. In her hand was a scrap of paper upon which she had clumsily written her first name for the first time -- her entire first name -- with some help from Madge. Of course she had seen her name written out for her by her mother before but back then it had been just a mass of squiggly symbols she neither knew the names of nor what they meant. But now that she new at least the names and sounds of letters things were starting make so much more sense.

The fresh breeze of a pale dawn rippled through the streets of Dale Town, rustling the leaves and mixing with the pale sounds of late night drunkards and early morning risers. One of the latter of these was a teenage girl crowned by a ginger mop of thick hair and carrying an oversized basket of apples. Faintly, the sounds of singing could be heard to come from her, the words travelling on the wind:

Oh blessed morning harken to me,

Where dawn and birds sing and be free,

Molly's Wobbles 001:

It's been quite a long time since I've thought to put quill to parchment, but the time has come to relieve myself of my burdens.

I disappeared from The Shire for quite some time... how long, I cannot say.

I was aware that my health was declining and that it was becoming harder to do simple Hobbity things. I'm not one to confide in others so much - so kept my growing problems to myself.