[The writing is curlier and looser than normal, unhurried, but of course still messy.]
Jan. 31
I sit now in a dim, sleepy inn of Buckland, just before breakfast. Though the sun is fully up, I must also rely on a candle for my poor eyes. Finchley is in a bed adjacent — I feel bad that her legs are too long for it! But she snores soundly all the same for now. I’m sure the local Hobbits thought us an odd pair of travelers, but that affects me not.
I’ve also not written here for a time — mostly because I found myself too busy! And, my deluge of weariness has passed nearly in full, so I’ve the energy to scribble some (or a lot). My brightened mood can probably be attributed to a few things:
*Firstly, I’m rearing a dog now. He was just a whelp, a bitty pup, a dogling, newly weaned and hardly trained when he first came to my home! I love him now near like my own child; that is perhaps ridiculous, but I can’t help it nor can I keep myself from spoiling him as one would a beardling. Byrge, who no doubt saw the jars on my shelves, helped name him ‘Beetle’.
Beetle was given to me by Nind, who begged me to keep the animal so that we could raise him together. I’ve not seen any trace of that silly Elf since — no surprise! I’ve been raising Beetle well enough, though I will at times have to ask him to be watched by Bíld and Finnric, or Cyanite (who acts like she dislikes him but I know the truth), or Byrge (who is, yes, a friend now, I would like to say).
Also, the pup is popular! Menfolk really enjoy dogs, especially young ones. I had a Man called Hound-Friend help me train Beetle / give me advice on training, for just a very low payment. Things have been going very well since. The babe now sits when I or others ask him to! (Though he is as food-motivated as I am.)
*Secondly, I am on my way to visit Maurr in the Shire! Beetle’s in the care of my dear friends in Bree. Though the travel brings bo — I forgot to write and say that Finchley and I were coming to Bywater. Mindless Maddoct! I suppose Maurr shall be getting a surprise, then!
I am both nervous and excited for the visit. Mostly my feelings are good; I anticipate telling him all about everything, but also fear telling him everything. I’ve been encouraged by three different people now to be truthful about my heart, but I don’t know how. I fear the worst, and though know it must be done, I will wait until I am soon to leave again in case the worst does happen.
At least Finchley is along with me. She’s a very sweet lass. I’m blessed to have made a friend from her, and it makes me joyful to see the mirth that this trip has so far caused her.
*Thirdly, half of the ‘Soothery situation’ is resolved. I at least went after many weeks being absent. Kithri was not to be seen; I am disgusted by how that made me grateful (I fear apologizing). I explained my avoidance to Elias, which has assuaged many of both of our worries. He is also appearing to be in much better health — I give especial thanks to Master Aeru for that.
The building has been rearranged, and while I think there should be more beds, there is a beautiful setup for medicine-making and a very delightful amount of books which makes my hands twitch. I’ve been given permission to continue entering and using the space as needed or wanted, which I’m glad for as well. Elias has told me before that I have near as much right to the place as he; while I think that an overstatement, I’m nonetheless grateful.
But. There is the issue that I am not sure that I do want to be continuing my doctoring as much. After further work, including stitching up a random Elf once, fixing a Hobbit’s cuts and swollen ankle on the side of the road, and helping Addie and Miss Nethrida with their wounds (and that is a whole ‘nother topic, which I hardly feel like writing on), I’ve found that the craft gives me little happiness compared with how it used to. Instead of joy from knowing I’ve helped someone, it feels like a monotonous stitch, a simple bandage wrap, and an overall dull process. Of course I’m still glad to keep people healthy, especially my friends, but it is simply different than before.
And I hardly know what to ‘do’ about my craft. I’ve not even yet mastered it, nor am I old enough to retire. And, since I am not home, my coin would inevitably run out here if I simply stopped working. I was joyous playing music with Bíld last night, and have been liking my painting. I still am pleased by jewelry-making, and am keen with prosthesis — Maurr’s is finished, but I’ve not brought it. I thought to use it as a bribe for him to return to Bree! — But could I make any of that my craft? It is a whole mess
[A pause. When the author returns to his writing, he brings crumbs with him.]
I’ll move from writing of that; after a good breakfast, I took a walk, exploring some of Buckland. Second breakfast I could hardly partake in, but I tried my best. Elevenses I ran from. Now I’ve decided to sit near the water against a tree; the air is cool, but nice.
But, as I perch here with my pen, I remember my eyestrain — I’ll have to speak with Master Tiarvi about newer, stronger spectacles when I return. I’m having to squint more at things closer and farther alike; perhaps I should start wearing glasses all the time for my worsening sight. Maybe I’ll get white-gold frames instead of gilded ones? And I’ve been told the round ones make my face appear too round, so perhaps I should change the shape? I will ask Maurr’s opinion.
Perhaps today I can be acquainted with Master Lexand before Finch and I carry on. Getting the maple for Addie* and I’s pipes would certainly help cheer her up. Though that I will do on the return trip either way — don’t want to ruin it during my stay in the Shire somehow.
(*Note to self: She is in the Soothery now. I feel sorry that Cyanite was roped into helping with that!)
I hope things go finely in Bree while I’m away. I’m excited for Miss Lumina and Master Leoffrith’s wedding preparations! — And I hope Master Tumunir stays well, too. Apparently he’s been having some issues, or other people (including Bíld?) have been having issues with him. Finchley and Byrge mentioned somesuch.
My thoughts are overall hopeful for everyone, including myself, but especially Beetle! I’m sure he’ll be finely ke
[The writing abruptly stops; when it picks up later, the script is very rushed and excited.]
Whatever I was writing, forget it! — Master Lexand somehow came across me (I was right beside the road) and interrupted my hand; he heard rumor of a Dwarf and Woman arriving last night and surmised it possibly Addie and I. I didn’t know who he was at first but soon learned. I like him. He, Finchley, (hopefully) Maurr, and I will be cutting the maple suckers from the Old Forest on the return trip. Finchley discovered M. Lexand and I, then she and I soon went on our way to the Shire!
We saw Maurr! Hugged him, spoke with him, had a meal with him, stayed out late with him! He was so very delighted about our visit, and my heart’s never felt so full — never have I been so glad — I don’t even know what to write other than I’m simply happy! I’m trying to keep quiet with only one damned candle; and poor Finchley — the beds here are a bit larger, but she’s still long-legged, and I glance over to see her curled up queerly! But nevermind that.
Maurr looked so well, though his poor moustache’s braids were all in disarray — he has to one-handedly do them himself. Never have I wanted more than to offer help! But alas! How inappropriate that would be! But I want to hold him, hold his hand, kiss him! shirk sleep to converse! I’m sure Finchley disdains me for forcing her to watch how ridiculous I’m certainly acting about him. No sense in keeping The Individual anonymous in my own journal; I can’t help that I want to tell him,
“I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you,”
Until I've no more breath.
But! Woe! I must keep that all to myself!
He’s elating, but also comfortable — somehow both adventure and home at once. And I didn’t even care that he accidentally made me spill jam on myself; I just kept smiling like an idiot.
I’m in terrible, terrible trouble. I won’t be able to sleep for how I’ll be thinking of spending time together tomorrow. I fear I’ll accidentally blurt some confession at the most inopportune moment — I wanted to tell him while we were gathering dirty dishes, help me!
I will try to sleep now. Try. Sleep.
O, Maddoct! You’re stricken!
[A pen-mark starts here, but no more letters or words are formed. Presumably, the author forces himself to stop writing and instead cover his face with a pillow.]
