Every Story Needs a Beginning---- Or ----Rubysue’s Journal Entry #1 Well, I’ve been really enjoying reading some of the journals and diaries folks have chosen to leave out and available for the browsing by other members of the Order and I figured maybe some would find hearing a bit of my story entertaining.You’ll probably find this best suited for reading on a rainy afternoon when yer have nothing better to do than drinking a brew and passing time.I don’t anticipate this being a real ‘page turner’ as they say, it’s mostly just the story of a woodworker growing up and trying to ply her trade and maybe a bit about the scrapes she gets into along the way, but it isn’t going to be the stuff of any heroic songs, which suits me just fine, thank you. So starting at the beginning, I was born in Staddle out on the east side of Bree.My mum up and died of some sickness when I had just turned 5 years old, so I really don’t have a lot of memories of her which makes me sad when I think about it sometimes.Me and me dad moved onto my great aunts farm where I guess me dad did farm labor, at least some. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before even I realized that me dad was a sorta shiftless sort of character that would rather drink and play cards than do a decent day’s work.I guess that had been apparent to Aunt Matilda too, so she probably was pretty pleased when me dad turned up with a wagon and packed me and all our stuff up and left for the Shire.That would be about the time I was 10. Well, we ended up living out of that wagon in Waymeet because I guess nobody would let him park it anywhere else.There he made a bit of coin as a woodworker and began teaching me the craft as well.Looking back, his reason for teaching me was no doubt so he could collect the money for drinking without having to actually do the work. So time went by and I got up into me tweens before me and me dad had our final falling out, the story of which is pretty embarrassing so I’ll not be going into it here.Long and short of it is that I moved out of that wagon and haven’t ever gone back because I don’t want folks associating me with that rascal. I joined up with the bounders which gave me plenty of opportunity to collect up nice pieces of wood for carving as I made my bounder’s rounds.I made clubs and staves, bows and spears for the bounders and other folks as needed it and my wood working got better and better if I do say so myself. Pretty soon I wasn’t finding any challenge to carving Rowan and began thinking of the Ash wood I knew was to be found out past the Brandywine.