Slowly he stirred awake and his tired gaze fell towards the wall, staring at it, while he enjoyed the first few moments of is drowsy state where his head was empty but sure enough the familiar throbbing began to well up in the back of his head.
Every morning I am fooled to think that I have gotten rid of you. A day will come where you do not plague me but when that day comes I might fear that I am dead.
His eyes shut again as he pulled the woolen blanket over himself, seeking the faint warmth that lingered in the fabric.
Cold in here this morning. I should see if Barliman has an extra blanket that I can keep here, might spare me the chill when winter arrives if it has not already. Will we be staying here so long though? We might take to the road but where would we stay when the snow makes the roads hard to cross? We have no wagon to sleep in. Maybe I should speak with him about staying here for the winter, might be the wise thing to do.
He sighed and curled up to fit underneath the blanket fully, yawning and sinking his head further into the pillow.
But that means work, means we have to find a place we can stay at. Our coin thins fast staying here each night. Maybe someone needs an extra pair of arms for the winter? I guess we'll have to go look into that if we are to stay. Still much to do before we can even think of leaving. The festival and then the show. That reminds me... Still need to find someone to play the part. That other woman, I remember her now. The one who said she had set fire to one of the tavern's benches. A thrill seeker she calls herself. No, that will not do at all. Too much risk with such people. The show has to go well.
Pulling the blanket down from his head the man opened his eyes slowly again to stare off towards wall, squinting his eyes at a spot he only now noticed.
Has that always been there?
He rolled onto his other side and let his arm drop over the edge of the bed, the arm dangling lifelessly while he tried to sum up the strength to get himself out of bed.
I wonder if Rosybell managed to empty that man's purse in the end. Must have had a swollen purse for Rosy to take such interest in him for it can't have been the lack of a personality that man holds, what a terrible bore. Mysterious, she called him. Mysterious many women call the black garbed men that seem to be all over now. I am starting to think they do not know the meaning of the word. There is no mystery to a man who is a copy of every other dark dressed men who stand in odd corners and say nothing, most thinking themselves men of wit but when tested there is nothing there. Now if he had feathers and a long nose like his name would suggest then that would be of some interest and mystery. Alas! The only thing that stands out there is his name and even that I have already heard around this place before. Maybe if his purse was drained by the good woman he shall have some spark of interest to him again, maybe.
Shifting his arms underneath himself the man finally pushed up to sit, dragging his legs over the edge of the bed and hunching over with a low groan as the sharp pain in the back of his head continued to throb against his skull.
Lami... Lani... Lari... One of those names it was or was she perhaps just something I conjured up in my boredom? Wouldn't be surprising. What is the time? I shouldn't think on that. The further into the day it is the more I have to run around and prepare. Have one cook now at least and a baker, a Hobbit offering to bring some food for the feast. Not enough to last. The less fortunate folk in Beggar's Alley will not let such an opportunity slip past them, I need to find more to bring food and I still need to find someone willing to part with some drinks. Maybe Barliman will be willing to part with his old pottage brewing in the kitchen? Or perhaps want a stall of his own to offer his drinks? I will have to ask him and hope.
He dragged a hand slowly down his face, sighing deeply.
What else? Decorations... Music... Games... I need to find more people.
His head lifted and his gaze fell towards the door.
At least they are sitting together again, perhaps there is hope between them still. Though the man still gives me a look, he silences himself and doesn't even offer a greeting.
He scoffed.
Let him hate me then. Better it is me than her. No time to ponder more on that, still have work to do, too much work. So up... Up with you.
He slowly pushed to his feet and found his boots, getting them on and afterwards adjusting his wrinkled coat.
I need to redye my coat as well... There is too much to do still.
He ran his fingers through the tangled mop of hair to fix it in place, a ready smile pushed forth before he finally stepped out the door to greet the new day.
