((neatly penned in Lumi-kieli))
At first after my observances for Juhannus I felt like things had been getting better. Between this and the donation of the gold penny, the wind-spirits must surely be pleased with me living a goodly life. And I have been less prone to hurting myself with clumsiness. There was a good turn-out for the feasting, and people brought gifts (which I was not expecting), and several others contributed to the feast. Miss Falena brought a dish from the south called pheasant that I think I could eat every day if I could get it. I did not get to sing the song I had prepared, but I got to play while Mister Haleron sang a song of his own. And I got to dance with Rusvá, and with Beri -- what better sign the spirits were pleased with my offerings than the fact that, that very day, she recovered fully from her illness! People enjoyed themselves. There were quite a handful of people I had wished to see that did not come, but I had not hoped to see Eira and yet somehow she was able to attend. Now we are going to trade letters since we cannot see each other anymore (and I have a fine new pen to do it with). In all I think Juhannas was an evening of joy that many will remember, and that is all I could have hoped for.
But my days are as varying as the last days of winter. I have always been the sort who swings fast from being too cheerful, to too glum, and back. Mother has always tried to lecture me about it. It is probably part of the same thing that makes me 'too much' about everything else. I can be feeling as good as a summer day and then someone can say one hurtful thing and I fall as quickly and as hard as a felled pine. (If it is someone whose good wishes I care about, at least.) And I can be holding back tears and then one smile from Nalleni and I cannot even remember why I was sad. Why did I hope that maybe in Bree I would not be like this? Or is it because I now have twenty-one summers? Well, whatever reason, I was foolish. I am just as like this as ever.
A few nights ago Nathan said, twice in one evening, how all foreigners were trouble. The first time I laughed as if it were a joke, though I was not sure, but he was very certain the second time, and I felt like the inside of me had emptied and I would collapse in on the void within. He said something afterwards about how maybe not all foreigners, but he had been so certain that I knew he was only bandaging over the wound, not taking it back. He has not even spoken to me since, and has gone away for some journey. For days afterwards I was haunted by the memory of it. It struck right in the heart of what chills me: the feeling that I do not belong here any more than I did amongst my own people, or anywhere else. That I am not home and I will never be home.
And then we have had a lot of signs of danger in the Pony that frighten me and make me feel like I do not belong even more. That scar-faced man that was threatening Syllea has not been seen again, ever since I set the Watch to keeping an eye out for him, at least. But in the space of two days at the Pony I saw three people who had been stabbed or injured, which left me so sick to my stomach that I did not eat for two days. Now I am again frightened every time I leave the Pony, and even sometimes inside it, and in the four and a half moons since I am come to Bree, this has happened maybe more times than in the whole of my life before. Bree is supposed to be a small farm and trade village. The Rangers said it would be far more safe than where they dwell by the risen lake. And yet I am checking for my knives every night. Eira invited me to some gathering at Egfor's inn, and I am frightened even to go to the north gate, let alone half a day's walk to Millshaw, unless Beri can walk me there. Maybe Bree is too dangerous for me.
Maybe that is why Suojelija stays with me; because I am still in peril.
So what is there to do about it? Well, whenever I see Beri (maybe once a week, as she has much to keep her busy in the wild places) that makes me feel better immediately and it lasts for a while after (at least until some other hurt knocks me back down). And I try to put on a false cheer until it turns to a true one; sometimes making myself smile and pretend I am not hurting, and talking to people that way, is enough to gradually lift my spirits. It certainly makes other people be more kind to me, while being glum for being lonely drives people away and makes me more lonely. I should also keep playing my harp, even if sometimes people do not seem in the least interested in my songs. Try to sit with people; even before Mister Grimodor and I had apologized to each other and made up, I made myself sit with him, and Cat the night after she took some of my beads, and act like I belonged, and that seemed to work somewhat. And keeping my toy bear with me helps and should even more now that Beri and I have traded so that I have a Beri-bear, a Nalle-nalle, to hold when I feel alone.
But I cannot stop thinking. I wonder, is there a place where the people are like me? Where I would fit in? Sometimes I daydream that Beri takes me with her back to the lands she is from, Vegbár she called it I think, to her people, and in the daydream they are as bright and sunny as me, and they welcome me, and I finally feel safe and wanted and home. It is an absurd daydream. I bet they are as reserved as my own people, and anyway, I think she does not want to ever go back there again, from that one thing she said when she was ill that she refuses to explain. Plus her land is probably more dangerous than Bree. And even there, I would be a foreigner. That is if they even allow outsiders. There is no reason at all that, of all the many places on Miss Aellwenn's map, that would be the one that would make me feel like I belonged. Why do I daydream that one? Obviously it is because it is somewhere I would still be with Beri. (I know I am supposed to be still in wooing but I am too smitten to think about it. And lately she has been holding my hand, and kissing me, and calling me honey-love, and it makes me dizzy more than chugging a whole mug of cider does, and in a much, much better way without any ache after, and without making me say stupid things after. Or at least stupider than I normally say.)
Reminders:
• Show Coalburn which kegs are which, and other drinks things like where the teas are, the coffee pitcher, and what they all cost, in case he has to handle drinks. So far things are going well with him, though selling of suppers has not increased yet (but it has only been a few days).
• Make a list of things that have to be done to care for the rooms so I can make sure they all get taken care of every day. If Coalburn works out and I do well at caring for the inn, Butterbur will give me that promotion and I will not be so dependent on tips to be able to pay rent.
• See if there are more sources for beeswax. The amount Beri can get me in a year makes about twelve candles, which sell for one silver penny each. As costly as that is, the man from the book-home will buy that many three times over in a year if I can make them! Beeswax candles are much better light for copying books, and they do not make smoke that makes the ink set poorly, he says. I have sold nine of the twelve, and thus made up all that I spent on Beri's care and on the feast already! It would be good to sell more.
• Buy another crock of butter. The buttery soap is selling well. I should ask Mister Dem about that lotion he let me use. If I can learn how to make that, it would go well to sell with soap.
• Make sure to insist on Haleron telling me about this song he wrote that mentions the sky-ribbons. Ever since I heard him say that, he has been too busy with other people and has left so quickly I cannot get him to stand still long enough to tell me.
• Ask Mister Dem about the orphanage soap he had asked me about two moons ago. I might be able to produce enough for it now.
• Buy a pillow now that I have a very fine pillowcase as a gift.
• Speak with Aellwenn about the cut stones that Elf left me; maybe she will know what they are. (She was not very interested in the idea of bead-work as jewelry. But I have also had no luck selling more of those bracelets anyway.)
• Gather the flower petals left from that garland that Mister Grimodor gave me as an apology gift, now that they should be dried enough to use in making soap. (It is a pity that it did not last long enough for Beri to see me wearing it. I wonder what she would have thought.)
• Maybe I should speak to a healer about if there is any way I can be cured of my tendency to get sick to my stomach when I see illness and injuries and healing. Or at least make it less strong. I do not know if such a thing is possible. I wish there were spirit-talkers here, or that I had spoken to one while still in Lumi-mâ. Maybe it is more a spirit-talker thing than a healer thing.
• At market find a weaver who will sell linens for the rooms in the inn. We do not have enough spares. I must talk to Butterbur about spending the pennies for that.
