The first leg of the journey is complete, and I have decided to break at the camp of the hobbit trader Adso. He is well acquainted with me, as I often pick up supplies here for the Hookworth stables, and offered me a comfortable bedroll in a large and roomy tent. There are several others milling about outside, but they seem to be fellow workers and tradesmen, and I don't think I will have to share my sleeping space with any other travelers tonight.
Jack is curious and nosy, and even though I trust he would obey me if I told him not to wander about, I thought it best to be prudent, and he is tethered just outside the tent. He keeps lowering his head to peer in at me like a scolded child, but he has plenty of grass and a pail of water, so I am not worried for him, beyond knowing that he is out there brooding and stomping his hooves, which only makes me smile.
I left Leoffrith in charge of the stables at home, of course, while I am gone. I found him this morning, but we only had time for a brief exchange, and I pray he doesn't feel that I've abandoned him in haste. I know he will be just fine without me. He is much smarter and more capable than he knows, though I sense he is slowly finding his footing, and his purpose, one day at a time. Béma knows it is not an easy task for some of us. I know I floundered for months after leaving Lord Merton's employ. But I eventually found my way, and so will Leoffrith.
I feel Conrob's absence intently, as I watch the daylight fade from the western sky now. The air is sharp and chilly, though several large, cheerful fires are roaring outside. I know he would've come with me if I'd asked him to, but it seemed impractical. He has his own work to see to, and what use would there be in bringing my husband to a horse farm, to stand about while I train a colt? Still, we have not been apart for as long as I can remember, and I feel very small and oddly alone without him beside me.
It is dark now. The stars are like cold, bright diamonds overhead, though the smoke from the campfires obscures them. I'm glad for the voices of the men outside the tent, laughing and talking, and the lazy stomping of the horses (yes, even my Jack). I don't think I would be much good at camping alone. Though, even with the sounds of company around me, I find myself thinking and pondering in a rather somber sort of way. The words of the physician have not left my mind since he spoke them. Perhaps this time away will prove to be an uplifting distraction from my concerns.
I miss my husband.
