Putting thoughts to parchment has been hard for me lately, too much that clouded my thoughts to even imagine putting order to them in any form or understanding. Try to find reason for it all, behind it all. Who knows, perhaps if I can figure it all out myself one day, I'll have a decent toast on it, the best ale man can buy and I will drink to the future of Man and to a prosperous journey through the sands of time. For now, I drink on the present, for this is where we live and die. I put another swig up for my child and Eva somewhere up there or wherever. I down another for lady luck and her wicked henchmen that I've a warm bed and a woman I deeply care for next to me. I drink on the quiet of the night and the hoot of owls. I quench my thirst upon still and dark evenings when the clouds hang low and wind is quiet. I down this last few drops for whoever might still read this.
The matter of commerce I wish I could have avoided completely. Perhaps I'm a lazy man or I don't have time to dedicate myself to such a pursuit. For that I have no idea. But perhaps it's something to start considering. Piperel's ten to one going to murder me if she finds out I've been drinking tonight. I didn't plan to sit here the whole evening and neither was it my intention to spend so much on the drink, but one thing does lead to the other, and I ended up feeling a bit tipsy. I'm not particularly in any haste to get back to the Hall, to tell you the dead honest truth. It must be well past midnight already.
Corrben, bastards of all bastards, I heard caught one of the Stone Quarter Bandits. Killed him, too. I can't say I begrudge him the reward – he was at the right place at the right time. It's just that all these opportunities are slipping through my fingers - the bandits and now the raid on the Blackwold camp the Dawn has gone out to. And the irony of it all, is I need the money now more than ever. Especially now with Pip's safety is becoming for me more of a worry. We moved to the Dawn Hall for a few days, just till we can get a place to stay. I can't let her stay there anymore, not after recent events.
To be honest, I didn't want Pip to ask her brother for help but I didn't see any other way. He loaned her the money for a house so long, which surprised me as I thought he'd surely send her off to their farm, away from the filth of town. And truthfully, I would have if I was him. How much good that would have done anyway, as I know how stubborn and insistent she can act at times. Of course she promised we'd pay him back when things start settling down. And intend to keep it if I can just figure out a way to make the damn finances work properly.
I've been thinking of starting a venture, perhaps, just to get some coin flowing in - a Pipeweed enterprise with the weekly caravan trip to the Shire but I need a loan fist to get started. I've heard of some options and I'm sure I'll find the right person to talk to. Pip's been talking about brewing her own ale, something I'd not be at the least sorry for. Not if her roasted pork or chicken is anything to go by. I wonder sometimes if a way to a man's heart isn't actually through his stomach.
And, well, I am good and thoroughly drunk – surprising I can still hold this quill – and I should be making my way to the Dawn Hall, sneak in and hope Pip's asleep. Should give Barliman the quill and ink back, this hobbit's been sniffing around here a bit too much. I like them though, these little folks. There's a lot one can learn from them.
