Would that I could pass my time like a lady and fill my days with whims of the heart, instead time is rationed to me and years fly like frightened geldings, my days are filled from end to end and overflow with never finished duties.
Pulling on my mail over my still cloudy head this morning I have noticed that a couple of the chain links at the lower edge have worked apart giving me a slight slit up one leg, very fashionable I’m sure in lordly society but not acceptable in a parade.
Throwing all my low words at the treacherous hauberk drew the attention of my landlord, who poured down blows on the door to my room like he was smashing a fly and took up bellowing that “Noise’d best be you getting’ nails ready to mend t’ gap, else come night door’ll be locked tight ‘gainst your thieving rear”
Cursing Mr B I stopped my progression towards readiness for the day and set to on the missing doorslat, you would not recognise my tongue now Hunor, and it warms my face to consider what you would have thought of my fresh language skills.
A couple of nails later and the breech in the door was filled, I threw on my boots, bundled up the linen that had near worn out my eyes in the dim light last night and headed out the door. Mrs B standing ever guard near the edge of her kingdom appears almost back to normal and managed to throw a few insults my way. The bruises are living up to their promise of yesterday with Selia taking on the look of an idiot apprentices painting, with several colours from burgundy to purple shaded over her face and her dull eyes peering out from amongst them.
I returned the clothing to Mistress Smithfields who refused to let me leave until she had paid me with a “Drink to warm your stomach and welcome the day”. Sadly the gentle woman meant tea.
I realised my mistake in accepting her kindly proposal when she started struggling to set a cauldron of water above the fire. She waved off any offer of assistance and after all her efforts in raising the pot I couldn’t put myself to leaving before the drink arrived.
We got to talking about her life whilst the water took the age of a mountain to boil, and all the time the wiry lady would not rest or stand still. Although time has stolen her speed it has not taken her energy and she looks like she’s being blown by the wind during her constant motion around her room, she knocks dust off the few ornaments, straightens her piles of laundry and regularly checks the window for goings on in the street below.
She doesn’t get out much so she says she appreciates the “sight of bustling folks”, you’d think from the telling that she had a view of the market or the Pony, but all her window reveals are the looming buildings of the street we both reluctantly call home, and the miserable faces of it’s tenants as they trudge through the effluence past her tiny window.
Tea drunk and linen despatched I had to run to my duties, and spent the remainder of the day patrolling with recruits. Lumi took the lead in guiding Sotur, Bramba and Borermor with me along a dangerous road, and my blade was tainted more than once with the blood of goblins that sneak daily closer towards the ‘peace’ of Bree.
To bed now Deorling and my love to the children.
