Sunday, May 29, 2016

The Trials of Piersyn Wyne Part 8

NOTE: The full tale of Piersyn Wyne can be found in chronological order by clicking here or by using the navigation button on the menu above.

I set out this morning at first light. I would rather not document here the manner of my parting with father. Not that we parted harshly -- far from it. It's just that it was difficult for both of us, but more so, I suspect, for him. He worries, but I'm sure I will see him again.

I managed to obtain a horse just yesterday evening. The issue of baggage and how I would manage to
carry my provender, weapons, and other necessities had been troubling me since neither father nor I have the coin usually needed for such a purchase; a good beast of burden can be worth the wages most men might make in a six-month. But fate seems to be with me and my purpose because at twilight yestereve I met at the Pony by chance a Dwarf who was headed East toward his extended family in the Iron Hills (so he told me). I had struck up a casual conversation with him for my own purposes, trying to learn what I could about his kind that inhabit Ered Luin, but those folk have ever been secretive and distrustful of others. Nothing more could I get from him than Thorin's Halls were the major Dwarvish settlement in that region (which I knew already) and that business had been poor but not bad, as only iron and very few precious metals or jewels have been unearthed there.

In any case, this particular Dwarf had several of his food-bags ruined when one of the baggage ponies bolted at nothing and ended up half-drowned in the Brandywine River. Given his situation, he was willing to sell the pony and use the money to purchase more food. The pony was getting too large to be properly considered a pony anyway, and of course Dwarves (and hobbits) prefer to travel using ponies. In the end, we agreed on a price that I could afford and the Dwarf thought appropriate. I loaded her up with my supplies this morning and we were off. I haven't yet thought of a name for the mare. I was considering "Heathstraw," but that sounds a bit too masculine.

The going today was easy. I left by the West Gate as that git Harry Goatleaf gave me his usual scowls. I'll never know what I did to make that man glower at me so, but he seems to do the same to everyone, now I think about it. Anyway, the road has been level and fairly straight heading West, and I should encounter no difficulty so long as I'm in the Bree-land -- the Town Watch has jurisdiction here, so I plan on taking it easy. It's very exciting to have started at last. The words of that strange woman still come to my mind now and then and I've re-read my journal entry from that day several times. Perhaps I will encounter her again some day... a not altogether unpleasant prospect.

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