It is midday right now. I usually write in the evenings, but there are a lot of things happening right now.
I don’t have anything better to do anyway. My arm is still frail like a dry twig. It’s going to take a sometime to heal. I can’t swing a sword or lift a barrel. For someone like me, that’s pretty much all I can do to contribute to society. So I might as well use this time to write and reflect.
Rumors of the dragon attack are intensifying. Reminds me of that murder that happened so long ago… Does Whiterun have nothing better to do than to indulge in speculations and half-truths? Everyone innkeeper and his brothers around Skyrim are talking about it.
Fiona still shows no signs of recovery despite all the alchemical treatments. She must’ve consumed over ten potions for the disease by now. Rockjoint usually isn’t that severe. I should know. I’ve contracted Rockjoint all the time back in my days of wandering Tamriel. The reason why Fiona is still struggling to recovery is because of malnutrition. Since I haven’t been able to earn any septims lately, we’ve been eating sparingly at home. A potato for breakfast, cabbage soup for lunch and mudcrab porridge for dinner. For a growing girl like Fiona, that’s simply not enough. She needs her meals and she especially needs it when ill like this. Malnutrition exacerbated the disease. It’s more resilient and harder to treat.
I just don’t know what to do anymore…
18th of Last Seed.
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