Barliman is a kind soul, for all his fluster. I have a little space in the Pony's hayloft, warm from the horses below and sweet with the scent of this summer's hay. The baby-season is here, and so I will take a few weeks in Bree. A rest from wandering, although not from work. In the dark of winter there is little to do at night to amuse man and wife ... and so, the results appear now, nine months on. A time filled with women and their needs, a joyful time for most, every year I pray it is so.
It is easy to forget the men, in baby-season. But they have their own problems and quiet concerns. Oh but! ... men...
How much simpler it would be if men would be more forthright about what they need! Women are so much easier talking of personal things.
Poor master Lenwood, yesterday in the Pony. What a drama. But no different to most men. One would think, listening to men, that we women do not know what they have tucked in their trousers. Whereas, all the woman in baby-season have a very healthy knowledge of a man's nether parts...
Master Lenwood may have found it easier had he not chosen the middle of the inn to try and talk of his 'little problem'. Had he been more forthright we certainly could have sorted the business quicker. But men are so proud of their weapons, as they like to think them, whether wood, metal or flesh. I see no shame in wanting to satisfy a wife, and, if a little help is needed in getting a strong weapon fit for use, then there is no shame in asking for a ... ah ... helping hand.
But of course, a man -never- has a problem. It is always 'a friend'. So master Lenwood's 'friend Bearn' is well advised to dab on a bit of my cream and give it a good rub in.
