I left for Ost Guruth today, at the crack of dawn. We all gathered at the southern gate of Bree before the sun rose. Oxhorn was supposed to be joining the caravan, I was going to show him where I was from and what the Lone Lands were like through the eyes of someone who was born there, but he didn't show up. Most people see the rolling sandy hills and the scarce woodland as something of a burden, something to avoid. And sure, there are wargs and goblins that prowl the area but is that any different than anywhere else? I wanted to show him, my new friend, why I loved it so much. Not everything has to be so terrible in the world, and there are good things to find there.
We left a little while ago, and as I write this my legs are swinging back and forth from the back of the wagon. I'm supposed to be escorting them, showing them where to go and keeping them safe on the road, but the wife insisted I sit on the tail end with her two children. They both have a mess of brown hair, a girl and a boy. They listen to me tell them stories of my travels as if they've never heard anything so interesting before in their entire lives. I can't imagine that they must live such boring lives, for they are in a wagon and traveling across the Lone Lands. Still, they want to hear about Evendim and Forochel and all of the places I have been.
My thoughts have drifted to the friends I've left in Bree. Filisk, the blind man who has given me a taste for red wine. And Sedrynn, that charming boy with the smile who wants to take me out to the lake in the north when I return. I said yes. I don't often get time for myself these days, but he seems to think I need a break from work. I've saved up a little, I think I would be okay if I took a couple of days off.
It's growing later in the day and I can no longer see what I'm writing. Goodnight, dear journal.
