I've begun taking the tea again before bed to aid with sleep. Lemon balm this time, as I seem to develop a kind of tolerance when any particular substance is used too often. It is the same dream as before; the dead woman. Perhaps it would relieve my mind to speak of it to someone, but I dare not.
My excursions from home remain brief, but it has done my mind good to simply have somewhere to go. I encountered one of the Wandering Folk (that some here call "Rangers"). Curious that one such as he should take up residence in a little village of no import. He seems to be assisting a local physician who has himself been quite ill, and to that, I give him credit for his selflessness. I have met the physician as well now, albeit briefly. I am intrigued that he does not seem to be a local man, for he is not well acquainted with the local flora as a Bree citizen would be. I mean to ask him about whether he has any access to the autumn crocus I have been seeking. But that will be a delicate conversation, and must wait for a more proper setting and time.
I will travel to the farm again in a week's time to check on the young woman there. The family does not read nor write, so sending a letter to inquire would be futile.
Upon my last sortie into Bree-town, a young man introduced himself to me beside the hearth-fire in the Prancing Pony inn. He was not overly enamored or flirtatious, but was congenial and polite, which I greatly appreciated. We exchanged a pleasant bit of converse, and he quickly caught my reticence when it came to speaking about myself. Again, he proved to be respectful and not at all put out by it. I wish more folk were so. Particularly since I encountered the contrary on my way home.
A woman began shouting at me, and when I did not return her attention, she gave chase. I could do little but hurry on and pray she did not use the rolling pin in her hand, which she was brandishing in the air, all while braying accusations about her husband. I know not how many pairs of eyes followed us through the street. I think I will be happier not knowing. I am practiced at ignoring such hysterics, but I felt a certain indignation rise in the pit of my bowels. I felt the urge to stop and turn and face the woman, and offer justification and reason. Upon reflection, this seems so very foolish, and I am satisfied that I did not heed these urges. There would have been no explanation - no matter how correct - that would have appeased her.
Now I am home again - if "home" I can call this cottage - and all is peaceful. The neighbors here are blessedly quiet and do not trouble me. I doubt they will much notice my presence for now, nor my absence when the day arrives.
