Life continues on, the world moves, and I move with it. Still with the notion that I am little but a pawn, a piece on a game board, moved along by the whims of Fate rather than my own will. Else I would not be a widow at twenty-four years old, struggling through each day as if I were climbing a mountain with no peak, forever unable to reach its summit and find rest.
Still, I am trying to find comfort where comfort may be found. Though it does not touch the aching hollow in my heart, and perhaps never will. Firithain has been close company the past few days, and has told me more of his own story, while I shared mine. He was astute and observant, compassionate and understanding. Yet he carries his own burden of shame, guilt, and loss. It is an awkward thing, it seems, for two people who have suffered so greatly, to try and dance their way around each other, and figure out just how to act, and speak, and behave. In my sincere desire to comfort him, I allowed him to take my hand and hold it as we talked. Upon reflection, it may not have been the wisest choice, for he confessed to me something that cast a bewildering pall over our conversation. Yet the warmth of a man's hand was profoundly comforting to me in turn. Such a simple gesture, something that most people would hardly notice at all. But I could only think of how odd it felt to have a hand upon mine that was not my husband's. It was odd, and troubling, yet I longed for it in my suffocating loneliness. And it was only made all the more confusing by the expression on his face, which I know now is one that would welcome more than friendship. Yet I have nothing but friendship to offer him, and I told him so. To his credit, he accepted this with great chivalry and honor, and pledged that he would remain in Hookworth for the time being, and would be a loyal friend as well as a help to the village as a whole.
A visit to the Bree marketplace today reminded me that I will need saddle soap, along with countless other things. I assured Missus Oatmiller that I would return again to buy some from her, but I had nearly run out of coin by the time I greeted her. After buying far too many jars of jam from Pansyblossom (for which I do not apologize, I think I deserve a treat right now!), I could hardly carry them all, and had not brought a basket to shop with. Miss Pansy directed me to a merchant nearby who had some boxes on display, of various shapes and sizes. The lady introduced herself as Marnewyn, but asked to be called "Marney". She did not have a box quite the right size for my jams, but offered a small and very handsome chest (small for a chest, but large for me to carry!) for me to rent for the cost of one silver penny, if I promised to return it to her. I didn't want to hand over such a sum for the mere convenience of carrying crocks of jam home, but I didn't see a better solution. However, after a moment's thought, I noticed that the chest was really quite attractive, solid and well-built, and I had the notion that I might use it to hold my husband's things. Those things which I have kept and could never part with; his wedding clothes, his "courting robe". I wish I had his hat. He always looked so fetching in it. But he wore it on his journey to the quarry, so it has been lost, I assume. I think sometimes of the scarf I gave him, knit for him by Sareva. It looked so fine around his shoulders. Dark, stern blue, it was. Very masculine. And there was never a more masculine figure than my beloved.
I met with an old, old acquaintance last evening in the Prancing Pony. He sat down out of nowhere, like a ghost; absent one moment, and there the next. Aeruthuil of all people. A hundred memories from forever ago leapt into my mind at the sight of him. The early days of being in Bree. It will be two years soon, since I came here! Time flies, as they say. Merciless. Aeru has always been an enigmatic and puzzling figure, and he was no different this time. Though he offered more than one smile to me, and spoke somewhat freely, perhaps due to the flask in his hand, which trembled its way to his lips repeatedly. The memory of it is worrisome, now that I recall it. He was incredibly generous and kind with his words, so much so that I felt a bit stunned, to have this warm outpouring after not seeing or speaking with him in so long. But he assured me that he has kept himself informed on the goings-on about Bree, so that my sad tale was not a shock to him, though he regretted hearing that it was fact and not rumor. He promised to remain nearby if I should have need of him, and I was touched to hear it.
That is all I have the energy to write for now. I have encountered so many faces this week, and I feel quite worn out from it all. I think I will keep to the village for a time, and see if I can find some sort of placidity for my mind.
