A series of written thoughts stashed away in a box of parchment, written meticulously and precisely, as if the writer had taken great pains to make their handwriting as legible and clear as possible.
So this is it, then. Two days the first anniversary of me leaving Combe and family behind to go off to Bree and start fresh. Blimey, I cannot believe how long it's been. It only seems like yesterday that I was standing next to the well with Ellinor and Hudd and nearly knocked Ellie into the well. I sort of wish I was back in those times, as complicated a mess as it was, but honestly, as much as I might regret leaving them both behind, I am glad I did it in hindsight. As much as it pains me to say this, I hope they've bloody forgotten about me and moved on with their lives. They do not need me to make a mess of it again, so they don't.
The first time I met with Smith Hucklebush, I think it was raining, and I was starving, and miserable. Begged him to take me in. Of course, begging will do you a fat load of good when a git like him is busy tending to the forge, but he gave me a set of tools, told me to make something useful with it, and surprisingly let me in when I showed him the set of arrowheads I crafted. He's made me his journeyman now, so I'm slowly moving forward in my path to becoming a Master Blacksmith.
I still think about the Forge in Combe though. Not a day goes by where I wonder what Ellie and Hudd are up to, if they're married, and what's gone on in the time I've been gone. I've not bothered to check the rumour mill at all, because I know that if I get even a hint of news from there I'll come running back to see it with my own eyes. And that's bad. Mostly because I'll get involved again, open old wounds, and possibly get punched or slapped in the process.
Again, that's bad.
