Aallan

It has been days since I met with Dufr once again.  He came up towards here to find me on Weathertop with another familiar face behind that mask.  Soon we both discussed things to catch each other up on current events, though he was already caught up to speed by friends back in Bree.  He even told me about how he beat Richard to a pulp, to which I had to chuckle a bit at.  

I saw Tothrandir in the market a few days ago. I think he must have seen me and crept up behind me, for I suddenly heard his voice, turned around, and was face to face with him. It's strange, the sight of him sends me immediately back to my early days in Bree, when I was just a lonely, unsure girl who was unbearably smitten with this tall, dark stranger with the gentlest grey eyes I'd ever seen. In a way, I dislike the effect he has on me.

It's been more than a week since I've been banished from anywhere near Bree, Combe, or even Archet.  Each day in the Lonelands isn't all that thrilling to me, especially since you don't really see bandits other than the suspicious looking buggers from time to time.  Sure they look like uglier men, but folks and myself included took to calling them goblin-men, or half orcs.... Still bear that white hand.

Hello Aallan.

I will not stress formalities, as I wish for this to be brief. I have heard of your plight of late, and wish to help. I have many friends in Eriador that would gladly take you in while this situation gets figured out. If you wish to meet, give a message to Jon Brackenbrook in Archet.

-T

--- This parchment was written by Aallan moments after reading---

The whole day passed by with Aallan still wandering in his cell.  Soon supper came from Aggie's cooking.  Onion soup with bread.  He went straight away to drinking the soup, while of course complimenting her craft and the beauty most would not see about her.  Silence was constant except for Adalbart and Corrben discussing how to handle the public sentencing.  Minutes passed on end with barely anything to do except make small talk with the lovely woman with a scar.

I've finally found a moment to sit down and put my thoughts to paper once again. The warm, spring sunshine is like a tonic, I find, and there are moments now where I simply sit by the open window, gazing outside, lost in all manner of pleasant thoughts. I suppose the confining nature of winter made me more apt to fill my journal's pages, and now that the land is blossoming and balmy, the blue sky beckons me outside more and more, and the parchment must wait! Though, I did return to work a few days ago, at the stables here in Hookworth, as well as Neyaa's farm.

We returned from our trip to the Shire last night, exhausted, but blissfully happy. I find Bree to be full of pretty places, but the Shire is truly the most idyllic, charming, lovely land I have ever come across. The rolling hills, the tiny villages, the rippling streams...one cannot help but feel as though it has been rather set apart and preserved from the troubles of the outside world, at least for now. Our hobbit hosts at the Ivy Bush Inn were so gracious and accommodating, though we did wind up stuck with a hobbit-sized bed, which was...challenging, to say the least!

It's been a while since I wrote, hasn't it?  Lucky for me the guards didn't take my parchment and pen.  Why I put myself behind bars is a rather funny story.

Things had gotten to quite a surprise. I was pretty much speechless through the time of being in Bree.