We are camped now in a place called Aughaire. It is strange here. The entire village is made up of hide tents and the people seem rather stand-offish. They welcome us in their own fashion, though, and seem on friendly terms with at least some of our number. Apparantly our leader has done them some manner of service in the past, thus they treat her with a measure of respect. Still, they make it clear that we are outsiders and shall ever remain such.
What little of the land I can see here is black and barren. It is mostly rock and that which would appear to be mud is gritty beneath ones feet as if it is made entirely of ground boulders. The sky above is very disconcerting. I have seen none of the azure that I am used to. Instead it ranges from a sickly green to a deep blood red with strange crackling and lightning effects. It makes my skin crawl and my stomach churn just looking at it.
The day before we left Esteldin, I saw Baradar. He was passing through on his way elsewhere, but we spoke briefly. He was not pleased with my decision to come here. He tried to hide his concern, but I could see it clearly enough. Still, he was as supportive as he could be, for which I am thankful, and now, being here myself, I am beginning to understand why he was so worried for me. We are only on the edge of the land, not very far in, but already it feels oppressive, cloying, as if the very ground beneath our feet is just awaiting a chance to rise up and pull us down into the darkness, here to remain for eternity.
There has been at least one high point, though. Yesterday Cowbane came to me with a gift wrapped in cloth. He grinned as he passed it to me whilst the others watched at a distance to see what I would do, each man with a smile.
I opened the package to find a small circlet. It was well-made, apparantly by Cowbane himself although I know not where he found time to do so. It is a pretty little thing made of polished steel with a piece of red glass set at the front as a fake ruby. It is neither expensive or delicate, but that is of no consequence. It was made as a token of friendship and, partly, as a joke. The band of warriors amongst whom I travel have long since taken to calling me "Princess" as a nickname because, I am told, I am so small and fragile with a soft heart and gentle ways. The circlet is a way to set their image of me in stone, so to speak, to complete the picture.
Of course, my reaction was to smile, thank them and instantly don it, much to their pleasure. Even our leader gave me an approving nod at doing so. I wear it now because it makes them smile to see it upon my brow and it holds my hair back from my eyes. Short as my locks are now, I cannot tie it back to any real effect.
We will not be in this village for too long, I am told. We remain only to have one last proper meal and rest ourselves and our mounts. The road ahead, I am given to believe, will be much harder than that which we have travelled thus far.
