She was very pleased with her purchase from a local vender. It was a small leather skin book with blank pages. The book was no bigger than her hands ,was the perfect size to slip into her backpack, and the pages were a tint of sepia but light enough for black ink to be visible. Returning back to her cozy and snug hobbit hole, She sat down in her usual spot by the fireplace. She rested a small bottle of black ink to her side and a feather in her right hand and dipped it into the ink and wrote what ever layed upon her mind. The writing was neat and readable but very small and her sentences curved off abit at the ends:
"I almost didn't want to write in this wond'rful book. I don't have much to say at the moment but I feel as if the first page shouldn't be left blank. It is very soothing to sit here writing down my thoughts, but I must head to the kitchen now fer some cakes and tea! and in doing so I shall celebrate the beginning more thoughts to come!"
She places the book down gently on a nearby table and headed to the kitchen.
