Captured bits of the sky, held in my fingers today. I have found a path under the mountain, going over one of my smaller maps that one of the dwarves gave me to copy. Thoughts of the star-crossed elf-maid, the hard-training Galadhel, even my love of working art from precious stones is thrust aside.
It -can- be done.
There -is- another way through.
Already my chest flutters in anticipation. How full of joy he will be, when I show him the easiest path! I must pack! My back is healed enough for the long trip back to Moria--
The page ends here abruptly, looking for all the world from the few speckles of black that the writer simply threw down his quill in haste to be elsewhere.
