Chrysanthe

"That doesn't mean I can't give people bad berries, does it?" asked Chrissy, making a face of thought. "They are not as harmful...just makes them run around trying to find a bush."

"What is the matter?" asked Tahandil, raising a brow at Eliad.

Tahandil burst out in laughter at Chrissy's words. Eliad watched as Aduninzil glared at a woman in a white dress then stared past the girl to Eliad.

"Or the funny dust that make people sneeze," said Chrissy.

Eliad took a step inside of the Pony before looking around. He then made his way to the back, to where a certain someone would hopefully be there. He grinned as he peeked inside, knocking on the doorway gently as he sees a familiar brown hooded figure. The figure turned his head slowly, keeping his face hidden under his hood.  As his eyes sat on Eliad, he lifted up with a small smile.

"Eliad, my son...," said Tahandil. "How have you been?"

(OOC note: This is in the future a bit compared to many of the Rps I have done. Chrysanthe travels to Gondor with Raevenhart and during the battle of Pelennor fields she happens to fight along Halros, her father of sorts from her days in the Shire. She is excited to see him but in a turn of events he gives up his live to save Horn. This a real in game event that's outcome depends on weather or not you sent Halros with the Grey Company)

Morning once again, busied, pained, and finally not willing not move any longer. I'm thankful to Raevenhart for all that he has done. Though now I fear I have dragged to many people into his horrid tale that ends only in pain and blood. Many moons ago I took a job, one I shouldn't have no matter how much training I had. I'm a hobbit what chance was there really that this would turn out the way I wanted it.

After spending yesterday doing little but sleeping and scribbling here in between my naps, it feels quite incredible to be wide-awake once again, with a bit of energy back in my bones.

Yesterday was a blessedly quiet day, at least for the most part. I don't plan on a lengthy recording here today, but we shall see. My thoughts of late seem to be endless and I have trouble reigning them in once I put the quill to the parchment. 

It's a good thing that Jack awoke me before dawn this morning, though I was irritated at first with his incessant stomping and snorting outside the door. The fair weather has him restless and wanting to move about, and though I snapped at him to take his gargantuan black and white hide away from the house, I have to feel rather grateful now, as I have much to record here before I start my day's work. 

Oh, where to begin? I think I must've encountered half of Bree last night, in the space of just a few hours. 

Why did I finish my last entry with the words "what may come"? I spoke in haste, it seems, for yesterday was another whirlpool of madness, both terrible and lovely. Will life ever just calm down for a day or a week or a month? Bree seems to be some sort of hub for insanity of all kinds...as if it draws folk of passion, both wicked and good, from all corners of Middle Earth, concentrating them into the hedged walls of this little town and tumbling them together.