As I write this, the team is taking a rest within the cave. Someplace forgotten, an old ruin built at the inner of a tall rock. The reasons I shall explain further, should time and safety allow me. Not that I consider anywhere in the Lone-lands safe, a mere form of speech.
It were a usual day, meaningless, calm. I were at the inn of Bree, and waited for someone to get injured, as it is oft that something as such happens. That place must have seen more peaceful days, as many of the inhabitants recall. Now brigands and suspicious folk roam the streets. Though an unexpected creature happened upon me this time.
A block stopped my steps, and I nearly fell.
I turned. In its place stood a little girl with golden hair and rugged clothes, crawled up on the floor.
I were quite annoyed; if only it were the first time that I tripped on foolish, blinder people that I already am. Much else troubles me, many concerns pile up in my mind day by day. I do not have to deal with this too, I thought. And this incident were the final drop that made the glass overflow. Lady Rhyanda saw the frightened face of the child, and so I were forced to explain yet again the fact that I were surrounded by idiots. All she said, were that I were in luck, for the fact that the law does not predict imprisonment for the crime of being a ‘jackass’. And so I agreed. I soon left the scene and sank into my own thoughts, most of which I cannot recall. Though, I saw something peculiar. The child showed me a kind smile, before turning to the loneliness of the fireplace. An act of forgiveness, despite the fright she had taken in my presence. I thought I over-reacted, so I apologised, asked why her parents allowed such a young girl to wander at a drunk-infested dirt-hole known as the Prancing Pony. She is an orphan, she said. Her name being Rye, or more commonly the Little Mouse. A street urchin, far too mature for her age – I do not deem it that she overcomes seven winters of old. Though none can really say.
The following day, I became acquainted with a certain lady Rinni, who offered me work as the healer of their expedition to the Lone-Lands, their purpose being the search of ore and metal in general, as I later found out. The Dwarf Gugur, the white-haired, is the leader of the search party, whom I decided to search in due time. They pay is ridiculous, and danger is high, however there is no better chance for me to teach, should any of the fools in this bunch fall into the wrong end of a Dourhand blade. Little Recogntion for the importance of my work, though I am willing to sacrifice it, for the education of Rye concerning surgery. I shall explain.
In the meantime I were being tailed by the young one. One of the times I saw her, she had been damaged on the arm, having beeen caught up in a fight between Rhyanda and a criminal, whose lifeless body now lies below the ground. Nor did she know his name, neither did I care to find out more; all that mattered were the fact that another criminal had been eradicated from the face of Middle Earth. I fixed her wound, and she watched. Rye wished me to teach her the art of healing, surgery. I accepted under the term that she would keep an order at my house, I offered her food and a roof above the head. I admit, I had begun to take a liking in the child's wisdom and will to learn, despite the fact that at times, she acts more than irrationally. I wish to offer her what has been taken from her, and what I could not have during my own early days. I may be weak...though...it is the closest thing to a family I have had. Family that does not treat you as the dirt to be walked upon.
I have been teaching Rye what I know for the past days, and she has been following, for there is more than a single way to learn; a future doctor needs observe the master in order to see how procedures are meant to be done. It is lives of people we are dealing with, naught a business to jest with. And it so happened that one of our times at the inn someone seemed to have commited suicide. A body were on the floor, a few of his belongings scattered around the final room he had rented. Though...I sensed something to be out of place. Were it gas that came out of the corpse’s nostrills, I could not tell. I assumed it to be a possibility that we may have been dealing with one of the undead. None can ignore the various stories of the Northern Downs, I deemed it best for the Watch to take over from that moment on. Sir Bard-Smith, Daerren, were outside, and offered to host us at his house, until the threat had passed. Within there lied numerous weapons on the floor, and he had at his disposal a chest filled with crossbows, bows, swords and maces. It were not difficult to prank him, and threaten to remove an important part of his sense of manhood, as a revenge for not trusting my hand, concerning target practice upon his head. My apprentice and I found it amusing, however we have not heard of the Bard-Smith ever since. I cannot help but wonder what he is now planning.
However what troubles me the most, is the man clad in red, who demanded that I provide him with one of my concoctions, with the purpose to paralyze and apparently kill a couple of people. Jaonath and a certain lady Ceoswath, the latter being involved with the death of a young red-haired woman. I had the chance to study the corpse, what lies behind this is beyond me. For now, all that is left is to wonder.
Upon leaving Bree, we took a day’s rest at the well famed Forsaken Inn. The hooded individual mentioned that there are worse things to endure than a missing roof. Now I believe him. This cave is more filthy and damp than any rotten underground that I have seen. The darkness...I did well to bring light, a dozen of candles. I saw at the ruined inn sir Aranglin. I do not know what he seeks on Weathertop, though he warned me of the abominations in the Lone-Lands.
What I did expect to see, were another shady individual, who had followed the cretinous shouting of the people in this team when leading the horses over a hill. I were not careful enough. The woman leaped from the side of the road, seized Rye and held a blade nigh upon the girl's throat. She called her Amaryellis...They exchanged words, unfriendly, however it seemed they knew one another well enough. My apprentice mentioned something, herself and another person not being responsible for the cowled person’s diceased brother. Each moment that passed I felt my hair stand taller, I were afraid. The group commanded her to leave, though she continued to stand with the child's life in her hands. I ended her.
I do not feel guilt or remorse. My hands are yet again dirty with the blood of a person. I care not. It had to be done.
The past of the child I sense to have a disturbing twist to it, apart from the already heavy loss of her parents. Though it is naught to wonder; such things are bound to happen, the wrong people approaching their pray, in this case, an unprotected youngster. Why ‘Amaryellis’ would taunt the attacker, and step in the way of easy access to be killed, I cannot guess. I find such an act ungrateful for all that I try to offer to her. I shall have to speak with my apprentice at some point. It is unacceptable to wish to abandon the living, when there is a chance to improve, when a new road opens before your Both eyes.
For the time being, my main concern is that we survive.
Even though I feel my efforts are not being recognised, that has to be put aside, given the circumstances.
