((The following is a recollection of a past journal entry which serves to enrich back story, nothing written in these pages has taken place recently))
He wandered into the town on the lake place where the ferocious Smaug was laid waste, eastern winds howling amidst his fears. How could a hopeless man wish to prevail in a place where the fire drake could not?
“My father once told me that a man’s virtue is best measured during his tribulations. These words have resonated in me ever since that wretched night, today more so. It has been three days since I arrived to Lake Town and I can’t say I am impressed, I have heard stories of the place built over Long Lake, a city crafted of wood. Those stories often drew an image in my mind quite different than what I’ve seen these past few days. At first glance it isn’t so bad the people here seem hard working, they live off trade and most are approachable as long as you have good intentions. But once you delve deeper into the woodwork you’ll find it isn’t all roses and daisies. Smuggling seems to be a popular activity amongst the patrons at an inn I am currently residing at. Since I have a very finite amount of coin on me, I figured it would be best if I stay at the cheapest inn seeing as rooms in Esgaroth are more expensive then I had thought. Damn when I asked for cheap I certainly got it at a rundown place called The Swaying Cask.
It was evident to me that the place wasn’t going to be at all cozy and the bar goers aren’t at all that friendly with their cold glares , even so I’d like to think I have grown accustomed to such ambient during my stay in prison. I had a talk with the proprietor who stuck me as a miserable old man, contrasting other owners which take pride in their establishment this old geezer seems to just want to rid himself of the place. Can’t say I blame him. I asked him for work after asking him if he had seen my mother, the bastard practically spat in my face. I had no other choice than to rent a room for the next several nights. Thankfully the bed isn’t as bad as my bunk back in prison and I don’t have to deal with Hulund’s snoring.
Yesterday I decided to walk around town, getting my bearings and familiarizing myself with the townsfolk. I also tried to do some investigating on my mother’s whereabouts to no avail. The town guard seemed hesitant to help a traveler with his hopeless search, seems they have enough work on their hands. Sad thing is I am not sure if my mother passed through these parts, no one back in Dale could determine where she vanished off to. She probably left due to the unbearable anguish she must’ve felt during those trying years. I fail to determine where she could possibly hope to disappear to I mean the City of Dale was the only place we could call home. Either way I must remember that my mother was a strong and smart woman so I can’t lose hope yet.
I spent the majority of today simply idling the market quarter feeling dismayed. I tried over hearing conversations amongst the townsfolk that could be of help to me were it rumors or job offers. It was around high noon when a peculiar looking fellow in ragged clothing approached me. Without even introducing himself he told me he had a proposition for me and directed me to go to a house located in one of the more miserable districts if I was interested. And then before answering any of my questions he left but not before tossing me a pouch filled with coins suggesting the nature of his proposal. My instincts tell me that this could be trouble, but I really don’t have much else to ride on. Either I take my chances or I’ll be spending the rest of my days rotting in the poorhouse.” - Alewood
