diary

The charcoal strokes of a neat hand run across a page of parchment toward the center of the journal. Slightly smudged, yet legible.

22nd of Wintring, Dusk, Licking Wounds

Dwimordene we called that forest north of Riddermark between the river Anduin and the Misty Mountains. As children we were told to stay away from there because Elves lived there and their Queen and that they meant us harm, and that the forest itself was haunted.

I left the next day, without wasting time. It was still raining, my clothes had not had time to dry during the short night. This day was still long and I had to cross the Shire as soon as possible, since the day of the rendezvous was getting closer. It was during this monotonous march under the greyness, which did not honor the green hills of the country, that I began to ask myself serious questions about what was waiting for me beyond the land of halflings. Will I be accepted? How will my comrades be? What will I do if I have to turn back in these lands that I do not know?

Earth! After a good breath, I decided to leave the waters and these pirates, to launch me without losing time towards Evendim. It was raining. And I still had to leave Ered Luin on my steed, cross the Shire obliquely, then cross the northern border to arrive in Evendim. This part of the trip would probably be more pleasant, with a tavern where human warmth and a good meal would wait for me almost every night.

Finally decided, I wandered a few days on the docks of Dol Amroth in search of a boat that could bring me closer to Eriador. I ended up taking a place on a 300-ton brig-schooner, which is fifty meters in length, laden with meat, cloth, and around fifty crew members of the most abject scum. The sailors do not really frighten me to tell the truth, on the other hand, the Captain seems able to lynch a man for a bad look, he inspires no confidence. But to rally Evendim on time, I have no choice.

Well. I have never been a leader, nor the most courageous, I am rather of lonely style but I had to fight for my comrades and my land. Gondor is my land. It is by being part of small platoons along the western border that many orcs fell under the wire of our swords. We were fighting mainly when we had the advantage, laying ambushes, and it was successful. The other part of the mission was to patrol along the border trails, reporting what was happening. This is where I served for a few good years. I learned to fight, to lose, to survive ...

As neither of us were in a hurry our speed of travel was quite tardy. As ever since we met, few words were exchanged between Snorru and I, though a few passing comments about the local flora and fauna we did make as his love of nature seemed to match mine. Yet the waggon rolled on without merry thoughts as recent events held nothing to be merry about. Snorru's wife lay dead, her body nestled among the sacks of grain behind us and my sullen companion had lost everything else as well, save his merchandise and his home in Galtrev towards which we were now bound.