It seems a very odd thing, to be sitting on a bed with a hearty fire blazing nearby, and my journal on my lap. I could almost fancy myself back in Bree, except that whenever I glance up, I am surrounded by dark beams, beautifully carved with shapes of horses and flying banners. A faded tapestry on the wall shows a man in a bright, silver helm, a yellow tassel on his shoulders, with a green shield at his side. I can taste the faint remnants of mead on my lips and in my throat. I could not be farther from Bree.
Gamferth and I are in Grimslade now. A beautiful little village on a sloping hillside. The welcome here was what I might expect; cautious yet hospitable. After all, we are still very close to the Gap and the threats to the west.
I feel so very far away from home. Which is silly. Because this is home. Isn't it?
Of course it is. And yet something is missing. Something aches within me. There is a fear. A deep-seated and looming anxiety...
I must collect myself and my thoughts.
(quite a bit of writing here is scribbled out)
We met a most unexpected person this evening while we sat in the mead hall. A dark and curious-looking figure entered and seemed to want to go off to a corner by himself. But Gamferth greeted him cheerfully, and the man approached us. I thought he seemed familiar, and was trying to place where I'd seen him before, when he sat down right next to me and spoke my name, as if it were nothing at all. I don't know if I ever thought I would meet Crow again, but I certainly didn't think it would be here, of all places! A dark and nearly empty mead hall in the Westfold of my homeland?
It was an odd business, trying to explain to Gamferth how this man and I knew of each other. What little I recall of Crow is a brooding, quiet sort of figure who spoke softly and was strangely kind to me, for reasons I still don't understand. I remember him telling me not to be afraid, and smiling. An odd thing to remember, isn't it? Ah, well. The things we recall about people can sometimes be a mystery.
He related a tale to us that was troubling. I shan't write it down here, as it seems to be an ongoing matter of some delicacy. But he is searching for a man here in the Mark. It is not a man I ever heard of, but this is not a surprise, since the story goes back quite a few years. Gamferth thought that he might recall having gotten some wind of it back in Snowbourn. We could not puzzle it out further as the hour was late, and I know Gamferth and myself were very eager to find lodgings and beds for the night. But I think this matter is not yet put to rest between the three of us. I do not know where Crow has gone or if I will see him again while I'm here. He is a peculiar sort, though I sense a well-hidden goodness in him.
My room seems very quiet. I have had Gamferth's constant company for so long that it feels odd not to have him here to lull me to sleep with his gentle talk. I know he is close by, just across the corridor. My thoughts seem so loud inside my head, that I wish I could hear his voice, if only to interrupt them for a time. But I am already in bed and it would not do to disturb him now.
