Penned in precise and evenly lined sentences, a blank page near the middle of a slightly scuffed, top-grain leather journal is newly inscribed. If one were to flip past the filled pages to the very beginning, one would find the first page titled with: Bernie Tweed, Bree-land followed by a series of odd symbols.
15 Lithe
Home, Bree-land
√ Pine tree’s been turnt to mulch for the bee-garden. Took me nearly all morning to chip up that wood by hand but least Miss Kitowyn’s bunk idea went to a good use.
→ Hadn’t seen Miss Bryndis round for a bit. Might need to poke bout her place of business to see if she’s still up for that second meet-up for drinks she were wanting. Also this knot she left in my side’s been itchy.
• Now that my window’s newly bricked up, have appointment with a muralist later to see bout some fancy paint over it all.
• Might take them sacks of tunics over to Beggar’s Alley and leave em there for the rougher folks what live there.
≡ Had a dream last night after I drank a wee bit much of Sanders’ latest batch of hooch, which by the way got delivered in record time so all’s well on that front. And this dream were real clear to me: I saw colours and teeny details in it that I never even see when I’m wake.
In my dream, I were standing a front of the biggest lake I ever seen in my life, with water far as my blue eyes could see. And I were standing round in my fishing waders and my straw sun hat, hand grasping my fishing pole which were already set with my lucky bobber and a fat grub on the hook.
I knew what I were there for: this would be where I were to finally catch The Big One. The One that’d set over my mantle, what’s been bare til I come home with a trophy worth putting atop it; the One that’d show the world who were master of the streams.
Then cause it were my dream and I thought it so, Lady Luck appeared from out the trees and walked up to me with a smile brighter than she ever gave when I knew her. All pale and shimmery like she glowed in the moonlight and cause it were my dream, she were not in that elfin armour get up this time but something easier on my eyes. Asked her to blow on my fishing pole for good luck, which she did, then she stood back and clapped and cheered while I cast my line into the black waters. While we waited round for fish to start biting, she told me stories and brought me beers and gave my shoulders a massage now and then.
Don’t know why, but even in my dream all’s I caught were weeds and small fry so none of this worked. But Lady Luck said not to fret at all, yours truly would catch the One when the time were right. And then we set down by the shore and she told me some stuff in her elfin lingo, which I understood none of so she could have been telling me her grandmama’s recipe for yuletide fruitcakes for all I know. But I did not care cause her voice were always pretty to hear, so I just counted stars listening to her say things.
Then I woke. Not sure what Sanders added to his brew but whatever it is, I like it.
