mead

A series of written thoughts stashed away in a box of parchment, written meticulously and precisely, as if the writer had taken great pains to make their handwriting as legible and clear as possible. The tone of this entry is all over the place - sometimes introspective, sometimes worried and pained, and rarely in good spirits towards the end. The penmanship is a bit sloppier than usual.

There's a drunken haze over me right now.

He collected his pay for the week, wiping at the sweat on his furrowed brow, his skin reddened from that sun. The chestnut colt cantered around in the corral, Aldfryd pausing to watch him. He spoke to his boss, his voice deep and soft, "That one's nervous, but he's coming along. Needs a bit more time than the others."

A blizzard thrust snow through the air upon the Misty Mountains, the whistling was harsh and the gust of the wind was like a blast upon any who sought to oppose it’s natural power. “Therwen! Where are you?

~ Crumpled up note lying on the side of the road ~

I've got one hell of a headache, my body's sore and it feels if a goblin just shat in my mouth. 

That was the last time I get so blastedly plastered... 

Night fell upon Bree and there was an icy chill in the air. Though Winter was fading for Spring there came snow down upon the quiet town, the folk were all preparing to sleep and two girls who seemed out of place walked the streets of Bree. The girls were of flaxen hair, taller than the Bree-folk, and they had blue eyes. They wore casual tunics that were well cared for, no stains could be seen upon it and they were kept neat.