the marish

Shire life was good, Everardo was comfortable and well fed. Folk were friendly on the banks of the Brandywine in the Marish and Buckland to. The ferry was a centre of activity, people produce and of course gossip.

Not many big things ever happened but there were plenty of little things to chatter about and maybe that was it.  He’d decided to volunteer as a Bounder to expand his horizons... to find another subject to talk about, something really interesting ideally!

Yesterday, in the evening, I was at Mr. Brablo’s library.
Upon arriving, I was actually quite shocked: I found him sitting down in his chair, sleeping. Waking up, it seemed as though he had slept since noon, or so, but I did not say much on the matter: his sleeping habits are his own, of course.

It was yesterday that I had visited Mr. Brablo’s home.
His burrow was grand, and every piece of furnishing inside seemed to bring the other pieces together: paintings, sculptures, and maps. Several bookshelves lined the walls, also, which sparked a great deal of joy in me – I was standing in the burrow of an author that I admire, and everywhere his books were.

My home in Barleywick is quite something: the locals are already questioning my odd habits, I do believe. Though I have yet to swim, or boat – for which I fear I shall receive a great many stares.