Dear Diary,
I have recovered quite well from my Old Forest journey here in Staddle. When I had passed out on the border of the forest, a kind hunter man found me there. He had heard me crying for help with his sharp ears. I was a lucky girl, real lucky! If he hadn't been there and ridden me on his horse to a healer, I would have probably perished because of the spider's poison that spread in my leg. The hunter brought me to an old (or I'd rather say ancient) hobbit widow in Staddle. She was known for her remedies and healing skills, and she drove the poison out of my body and treated me the best she could. Alas, I was saved.
When I woke up in the widow's burrow in Staddle, I found my pa's leather-covered journal next to me on a bedside table. Although I was a bit weary, I couldn't fight the desire to learn more about my pa and his thoughts. It turned out that I had known quite little about him. He had taken the journal with him as he had went to his lumber trips. It seemed that the journal was his closest companion to which he could reveal all his deepest wishes and feelings. I was actually pretty painful, reading how lonely and unhappy he had felt. He grumbled a lot about my mother – it seemed that at some point, the marriage had lost its magic. When he was at home with us, mother just complained to him about things – how dull Overhill was as a place, how we should move to Michel Delving, how lonely his daughter was without any friends in the woods... No wonder my pa liked to travel much and keep away from the nagging. He had poured his thoughts and hurt feelings into the journal.
Then something changed everything. On one of his travels, my pa decided to sleep under a rowan tree. They say that rowan trees have magical properities, and pa had a most magical dream that night. He dreamed he was wondering in a golden wood. The trees were tall as giants, but more gentle. The air was filled with rich fragrances, cinnamon, ginger and mint. And sweet music. Someone was singing nearby. My pa walked towards the sound, enchanted by the beautiful melody. Then he saw her – a young blonde maiden, dressed in a white gown, as dancing in the leaves that had fallen from the trees. The leaves danced with her in the air and it looked as if she was dancing in a golden stream. At the same time, she was singing the most beautiful song my pa had ever heard:
Come and hear my call
I summon you all
To the Golden Wood
Where all is good
Your dreams come true
And old turns new
In the Golden Wood
We'll brighten up your mood
All gaps are filled
All wounds are healed
In the Golden Wood
You'll be understood
Then she lifted her face and looked at my pa. She was the most beautiful creature my pa had ever seen. She had a bright blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, she had clear blue eyes and the sweetest smile. And when she saw my pa, she smiled in recognition. And then, the dream ended.
My pa wrote a lot about this dream into his journal. It seemed that he came to sleep under the same rowan tree many times, and every time he saw the same dream. He had fallen in love with a maiden of the golden wood. But at some point, the dream changed. He saw the same maiden, but her face was a bit different – it had a long scar running through it, and the smile on her face became a bitter one. Her beautiful eyes were filled with tears. She needed help, my pa thought. And so he decided to seek this golden wood, this maiden that was suffering there. He thought it was a message, a cry for help. And alas he departed, leaving us without a clue where he had went.
The last entry he had made into the journal was written in the Old Forest:
I begin to realise that I may have made a huge mistake. I know this is a message meant for me, but how on earth I can help this maiden of the Golden Wood? According to my maps that forest lies far away, beyond the mountains. Already the Old Forest seems to be quite a challenge for an old hobbit lad like me. I feel so sorry for my dear daughter, I hope she won't hate me because I left her. I just hope I haven't done all this in vain and that eventually I will find the maiden and help her. And I hope my daughter will understand my decision. Everything in this world has a reason, and this is the reason why I am here. This was meant to be.
I was puzzled by all this. A golden wood? I had heard of such woods, but they were only gammer's tales. But my father had maps and knew a place like that. Real or not, he had a destination. If I wanted to see him again, I would have to travel to the same place myself. After the Old Forest trip it sounded quite impossible, but this time, I wouldn't have to travel alone. I had friends who could help me and cover me, if needed. A hope woke inside of me.
I sat one night with the old widow who had treated my wounds. She seemed to possess a wisdom of many things, not just of remedies and dozens of pie recipes. She was silent and didn't talk much, but she sang much and sometimes was lost in her thoughts, peering into distance. One late evening we sat together on her porch, drinking some camomile tea. Finally, I asked her: 'Have you ever heard of the Golden Wood? Does such a place exist?' She glanced at me and looked at my leg the spider had stung. 'I suppose you should be concerned about other things than fairy tales,' she answered. 'I managed to save you with my skills, but these forest spiders are tricky. It is hard to remove all that poison they spit into your veins.' I was worried. 'Do you mean that I still have poison in me? Could it still kill me?' The widow looked away. 'The poison of the black forest spiders never kill anything, but the poison can get you killed, although not directly. And it only works in dark places, like in that forest.' I looked confused, and the widow went on: 'The poison sucks all joy of life out of you. It will make you see only the bad things in life, the darkness without any light. Eventually you will see no reason to live anymore, and...' She stopped, unable to continue. I saw tears fill her eyes as she turned away from me. 'So, if you ever go into a dark place, it will grow in you, and it will get you. Remember that.' And she walked away, leaving her cup of cold tea on the porch, and stood in the yard, the sound of crickets surrounding her. I didn't have to ask. I knew that she had lost his husband to the spiders, or the darkness. I had heard that story. I tried to change the subject.
'I hear you are from the Shire, ma'am. Would you like to return there?' I saw the widow shake her head slowly, still standing with her back towards me. 'Listen to me, child. If you go enough far, you start to lose yourself. You see too much. You find new homes, new lovers, new friends. They all take a piece of you, and there is no way going back. It wouldn't be the same for me anymore, not the Shire I once knew. Things change when you travel. This is my advice: do not go away from your home, or you will lose it all. The Shire is a good place, and it should be treasured, more that the people there realize.' Then she started to hum a melody and didn't say another word to me. I looked at her and the starts above, trying to understand it all.
Now I am sitting in a wagon which is about to travel to the Shire. I am already excited to return back and see all my friends again, my ponies, ma and well, all of it. Although I understand what the widow said to me, I do not agree with her wholly. Everything changes, when you grow older. There are always things you have to depart from and things that won't ever be the same again, but there will be new and nice things, all precious and worth to experience. I won't be afraid – I will go, seek the Golden Wood and find some answers. If I am lucky, I will meet my pa once again. Like my pa wrote, there is a reason for everything, and I found his journal for a reason, I am sure of it.
But now it is time to rest and gather some strength. Avoiding dark places won't be a problem in the Shire, so do not be afraid, dear diary. I won't visit my pie cellars that often. And if I feel bad, you'll be the first one I will tell about it. Even the stars shine bright and full of joy in the dark night sky, because they are not alone.
