I am absolutely full. Of pie and thoughts!
Thank goodness for this journal of mine or else I fear I really would talk folks to death. Where do I even begin?
I was having a rather mundane but merry time at the Pony again with Mister Byrge and Miss Addiela, who are both masters of baking delicious pies that I can never say no to! -- when a man walked in. The sight of him made Miss Addie look decidedly ill for some reason. She looked like a ghost had walked into the Pony and when I asked her if she was alright and such, she said that she wasn't so sure she hadn't seen one.
What am I to make of that? Other than Miss Addie's reaction, the man in question looks as ordinary as they come. But, later on in the evening, they did speak a few words to each other. It is obvious that they do know each other. Or did in the past? I'm sure there is more to it than that but I didn't think it was right of me to pry or ask too many questions considering how pale and fearful this man's presence seemed to make poor Miss Addie.
Mister Byrge was there too and I think he sought to comfort her too in his own way. I did feel a little useless after that. Had I known more of this man, I might've been able to help more. Instead all I had was words and, by the end of the night, Miss Addie ended up feeling sorry for apparently ruining our evening. I did feel very badly then. She shouldn't have had to apologize at all! I'll say, I felt like a right failure for a moment there. In my effort to help I only made her feel badly. I must find a way to make it up to her. Something that's not just words, though I know I have plenty of them. Maybe I'll ask Mister Maddoct or Mister Maurr what I should do. They've always given me good advice and good ideas when I ask.
That Tall Elf, the one that's friends with Hawk, was there as well. She seems to make Mister Byrge nervous and irritable. At first I thought it was just the old rivalry between elf kind and dwarves that I hear so much about. But at one point, the Tall Elf was saying this and that about killing folks to help Miss Addie as if it were the wisest and best course of action. Luckily Hawk himself walked in and stayed for a brief time and all the talk of killing stopped. There's something odd about the Tall Elf. She seems to talk of fighting and martial things a lot and she gives out hugs freely and without warning but seems to not understand things like blushing and such. She's quite different from Miss Cesistya and even the stoic Miss Helthuliel. But, as I've said before, each one of them is of elf kind but all of them are their own person in the end. Not to say that I dislike the Tall Elf -- I've got to learn her proper name one of these days! -- in fact, I find her presence fascinating in many ways.
Somehow or another we got on the subject of Hawk and I'm afraid I may have caused further misunderstanding. I think Hawk is a fine person, though it's clear I don't know him as well as I should like. The Tall Elf said he could be rough around the edges and that he came from Beggar's Alley in Bree-town. I've only passed by that place once or twice on errands and the state of the people there is a sad sight to behold. There is much for them to endure and they are not given much to endure with.
I'm getting off track!
I mentioned that I found Hawk to be pleasant to talk to and interesting and, thus, I liked him well. But apparently the Tall Elf thought I was saying that I liked him in a sort of romantic way and said I should seek him out since she heard he found me attractive. Goodness knows my face looked like I had been sunburned just then! I was so embarrassed but I couldn't exactly say why in a way that the Tall Elf could fully understand. I do like Hawk but I don't know enough about him for that liking to be anything more than friendly at the moment.
Thinking on it now, I wonder at him finding me attractive. Perhaps the Tall Elf misread his words and intentions as well? I don't mind the way I look. I like myself just fine and always will. I could never even begin to try to be someone I am not. But I know that I am not a very traditional lass in the eyes of others. I don't look like the fair and beautiful maidens of stories. I'm not even a regular looking lady either and that suits me just fine.
My thoughts are all in a jumble like some puzzle that's missing a few pieces. I certainly can't put them all together now but I'm in no rush anyway. These things usually sort themselves out in the end. I'm just grateful I have a place to put them instead of chatting everyone's ear off.
[On the bottom of the page is a cat's paw print in ink with a hastily scrawled: I left this open on the table for an hour or so. Pumpkin maybe?]