Millers, Mileage and Meditations

 When I awoke this morning, I realized that the group I'd begun with were now scattered along the trail of this pilgrimage, and resolved to stay a while where I camp to allow some of those worthy gentles and noble beings to reach  my location and then travel on together as we might. 
The Miller I'd met previously tarried at my meager fire whilst his head cleared. As he kept applying the spirit that fogged it to begin with, I gave leave to doubt the man intended to walk an inch beyond the bush he relieved himself at. Still as he shared his meat and wine along with bringing the odd dry stick for the fire back from his pissing, I endured his overloud recitation of the goings on of a randy carpenter's wife and her jealous man. A tale I'm certain was made better by the application of the wine for I'll admit to giggling by the end at the antics of the players. 
While I sat I whiled away the time on my little crafting. A bit of weaving, a bit of spinning and a bit of sewing kept my hands busy as I listened to the Miller and tended the fire. We shall see what the morrow brings.

Knights- they do keep going on. . .and on . . .and still further on

I've spent the past two days walking in the company of a most. . .loquacious knight.  Both the days I spent in the good gentle's company he spent talking on and on in the telling of a story. Now, I'm all for a good tale. 
This was not a good tale. Firstly a pair of wet-behind-the-ears dolts get themselves imprisoned. Then they squabble over a girl they've never met, ending a bosom friendship like unto brotherhood.  One is released and the other remained imprisoned. The freed idiot goes BACK, while the imprisoned one breaks out - all in pursuit of a woman who they don't even know. Of course in the tale they found each other and started scrapping at once over their jealousy. They're found and the king - who'd imprisoned the one and banished the other - decides he's had enough and makes a treaty with their kingdom by making a tourney for the young lady's hand. On the eve of the tourney, we find the young lady isn't fond of anyone, and wishes to remain a maid and in service to the gods. Much folderol later, the one who won her hand was dead, the one who lost her hand was in possession of the treaty, and the girl was given to him out of convenience. One wonders if the good Knight understands that his telling of said story in this fashion reveals his own attitudes towards the "fairer" sex? 

I think I shall seek a different walking companion on the morrow. I wouldn't want to get in the way of anyone else who might wish to bask in the Knight's splendorous storytelling.  

 My first day of walking on this pilgrimage was lovely. The company has been pleasant and I found ways to occupy my hands so that my mind could wander to more weighty matters. Admittedly this took some practice at first and if it were not for the assistance of my fellow travelers, I might well have put my eye out or ruined fine materials falling in the mud. However, barring an odd need for an elbow grab here and there, I'm confident in my ability to walk whilst putting my hands to mundane use, and contemplating weighty matters simultaneously. 
I met so very many today. A Knight, a goodwife of Bath, an adventurous Innkeeper! - So many characters and shapes of beings! 
I found fasting onerous, but this is as is to be expected. I look forward to breaking my fast before sleep, and then dreaming the dreams of the just and virtuous this evening. 

A new beginning, a pilgrimage

 I sit here on the eve of this pilgrimage having not set ink to paper for many long years. Why 'tis been 7 long years since my Lady perished and I was sent on that most fateful trip to the convent. 
I never arrived. The bandits who robbed our party and slew my "chaperones" have my undying gratitude for saving me from a life of boredom and drudgery - as if being "assistant dog walker" to my Lady wasn't drudgery enough! 
I stumbled to the shore and found Alfhild the Trader who had pulled to shore to trade with the convent only to find the English camped there awaiting a chance to march on the young Duke's forces. As Alfhild needed a sail mender and another pair of hands, and I needed a way to get out of Brittany, we came to terms. I worked at her holdings in the Danelands for a year and then she moved her holdings. We set out for the shores of northern most Brittan, but a violent and fierce storm blew us far off course. After many, many long days with nothing but sea to behold, we landed upon these great Trimarian shores. Alfhild saw no reason to stay, and after replenishing her stores and tending to her ships and household, packed up and set out once more. I honestly do not believe she will ever find a place to suit her wandering nature, but I wish her every boon. 

So, I sit here. I have chosen to stay and answer the call of this Trimarian King and Queen who call for pilgrims to help them as they make their own pilgrimage to seek guidance at the start of their rule. I seek to find if I have a place in this Trimaris,  and if so what it might be? Alfhild was kind enough to leave me well supplied for my own journeys. I simply have to go, and to walk, and to contemplate my place in this world.