Yesterday was a blessedly quiet day, at least for the most part. I don't plan on a lengthy recording here today, but we shall see. My thoughts of late seem to be endless and I have trouble reigning them in once I put the quill to the parchment.
A few of my friends have gone away at the same time, sadly. Master Belodin disappeared the other evening with that tall, sturdy-looking woman, apparently to seek the Rangers whose help he wants. I must assume he found them, as he hasn't reappeared at the inn since. I pray he's well and safe, wherever he is. We had only just begun to become friends, after all, and I hope we may meet again before too long. And then, last night, Aallan took his leave of me, still determined to embark on this mad quest to find a giant rumored to be living somewhere around the Brandywine River. Fitting that his garments are crimson, the color of madness. I'm more worried about him than I care to admit, even to myself. I know he has Dufr with him, and that gives me some small measure of comfort, knowing the fearless ferocity of the dwarves. If my heart were free, I might find myself quite smitten with Aallan's easy, roguish charms. As it is, I am still too full of the memory of Lainric, and...my feelings, I must admit, are engaged in another direction at the moment.
But I get ahead of myself. I will not leap from one mans' arms to another's. I will grieve for my lost Lainric, and then see what my heart has to say. A very selfish part of me wishes (the writing here is roughly scribbled out and illegible)
Speaking of my red-hooded friend, as he was about to say goodbye, we spotted that man again, the tall one who'd been staring at me, winking at me, flirting with me, the other evening. And what do you think? He was flirting with some young, fresh faced thing just a few feet away from us, and presently vanished with her into the back of the inn. Why do men feel the need to be so disingenuous? I suppose they think nothing of a woman's feelings and think only of the most advantageous way of removing her small-clothes. I would ask, why not go find a paid woman if all you want is a bedmate for the night, but I already know the answer to that question. They chase the common women because they enjoy the game and the challenge of seeing if they can sway her into believing that, just for an hour or two, she is the most beautiful and charming and captivating creature in the world. Lies, though it all may be. And in the morning, she'll be left with her confused shame, and he'll be left thinking of nothing but his sated manhood and never giving her another thought. A cruel game... cruel beyond belief. But such is the way of men.
The Pony remained relatively quiet and blissfully free of brawls, stabbings, and the like, for the rest of my time there. I retired to the hearth in the back hallway, sitting and simply watching the fire in peace for a time. I did spy Chrysanthe and the other "patient", whom I've heard called "Tah", shuffling up and down the hall as if perhaps trying to stretch their respective legs. An endearing pair they were! The tall man and the little hobbit-lass, both wounded, encouraging and comforting each other. It was a sweet thing to behold.
At some point, more people started happening by my spot (sometimes that back hallway is more like a busy avenue in a city!), and my friend Aranglin joined me by the fire. We had begun to talk of some serious matters, but had only just scratched the surface, when a woman appeared, lurking in the doorway and staring at Aran, clearly wanting his attention. I recognized her from the other evening, when I was outside helping Rue, she and her "friend" had been giggling and pawing at each other across the yard, and then they both came and stared at poor Rue as if he were something on display to be gawked at. I shooed them both away, but not without feeling greatly irritated that this particular woman, in her strange furs and enormous hat, kept pressing in and trying to touch Rue like an overzealous nanny. Unfortunately, it seemed that Aran was already acquainted with her (though I sense that she has "acquainted" herself with half the Pony by now), and she would not leave us in peace. I remained quiet and patient as she yammered on, touching him and leaning over him. Thankfully, the appearance of Eliad gave Aran an excuse to flee, and I bid him goodnight. As I headed back towards the common room, there was a man standing in the hall, blocking it (not purposefully), and I begged his pardon to slip around him. He stepped aside graciously, but not before I noted that he was a rather impressive-looking fellow, with silver hair and beard, and shining silvery armor that fairly announced itself as Gondorian.
I mention this man because, shortly after, he came into the common room as well, and for some reason, made his way over to me and struck up a conversation. Litdell was his name, and he was indeed, from Dol Amroth in Gondor. Why he thought me interesting enough to converse with, who knows? But I much enjoyed our conversation, as he was polite and agreeable, even humorous, and I am always fascinated by folk from other lands apart from mine. He says that Bree is his home, though I've never seen him before. Perhaps I'll see him again sometime, and he can tell me a bit more about Dol Amroth, which seems a very exotic and mystical place to a girl who's not been anywhere but her own farm in Rohan, and now Bree-town.
My dear sweetheart appeared as I was talking with Litdell, and though they exchanged greetings, he sat quietly beside me and said nothing more for the duration of the conversation. Would I be flattering myself to think he didn't like to see me speaking with a strange gentleman? Probably. It's more likely he simply didn't have anything to say.
So, as you see, the day was quite peaceful, especially compared to the wild insanity of recent days. I did not see or hear any trace of... the man... yesterday. I will count that as a small blessing.
