Holed up in her room, feeling sorry for herself, Adri looked over her journalling attempts. She re-copied the first couple, both to pass the time and avoid writing anything new, and because her writing penmanship had improved enough to make it helpful to any possible reader. Eventually, she set quill to page again to add something new.
Looking back to figure out what I need to write next, I see I've been writing too much about little details of the past. Maybe they're even useful details, but the rest of my recovery in Imladris isn't – not in such a day-to-day fashion, anyways.
Fingwen did come back for more visits. I learned more Sindarin. I started to get my voice back. I still mostly signed when I could so as not to mess with having my voice come back proper. That was the advice from the elves, and being as I can sing and stuff now, I reckon they were right.
I also slowly got cleared to start moving around some on my own, but I had to be careful not to pull too hard on the stitching at first. After being in a bed that long, it took a while to get my strength back, but after most of a year, I was finally ready to face the word again. Leastways, as much as I'd ever really been, that is.
That kind of left the elves wondering what to do with me, I reckon. I didn't really belong with them, no matter how much I liked it there. I like learning things, but I'm not like Mirwen, wanting to live my life in the books and scrolls. And yet, the only skill I had that was at all useful there was skinning hides – and they can do a lot of that for themselves. Elves are even what they call ambidextrous, so they can also do that knife in each hand thing I do. They didn't need my help with anything I could do.
And, in particular, I wasn't the orc-slaying hero they might have been hoping they were rescuing with their spur of the moment decision to save my life. It turned out, though, once they sounded me out on that, well. If you've been reading this all along, and didn't just start on this page, you can guess I pretty well said 'Let me at them!' They started training me to be better than I'd been in any combat, and in sneaking. They had some scary-looking men coming through off and on, and some of them got recruited to help in this, too – and just to get to know me for later. And that gets into secrets that aren't mine to tell, about what "later" might be, and just who those men were.
That still meant needing to figure out what to do with me after most of the next year, though, in terms of where to send me and what I oughta be doing. And that wound up being toward Bree, with another trader caravan – partly with some of the same folks I knew from before. Only this time, I was their protection. Some of them didn't believe it, but the ones that had seen me dropping orc-bloods in front of them talked me up. Well, that's getting a little ahead of myself again, but not much. That August, I knew I'd be heading out, but I had time to say farewells, and get some more stories out of certain other folks what were living in Imladris and all.
Then, early in that September, we started west. That trip was almost as boring as I coulda wished for. We didn't see any trolls, and the group was enough folks to keep from having troubles with wolves and bears. There wasn't that much to deal with in the Lone-lands that trip, and we went around the marshes after, and got into Bree all nice as you could please.
And then, there I was – a street-scut from a smaller place, not knowing anything about how stuff was done in the new place, and with no friends. A mission, yes, but one I can't write about – though writing about the more personal parts I can do, and how I made some friends again. But that will wait until I get out of the house and go see some folks again.
After the usual cleaning up and putting things away, she did go out. 'A'igh', Rascal, I gets it. Y' needs some proper exercise. Mebbe a bit o' lookin' about, 'ard ridin', an' then a visit wi' Marney, mm?' She saddled up the goat, glad that Leoffrith had still been seeing to him, and rode off.