*The following is written in a shaking script, as if the author is shaking heavily*
We left Angmar behind in swift order. None of those present wished to stay for an unnecessary length of time. Many of the men have wives and families to return to and all wished to see our leaders brother, and Violet, taken to better lands in which to heal properly.
Having heard nothing from Baradar, I parted company with them along the Greenway. Whereas they travelled on toward Trestlebridge and later Bree, I took the opposite path to make my swift way through the eerie fields of Fornost.
The parting was quick and sweet, not a one of us wishing to tarry or engage in a long goodbye. Still, they lingered long enough to advise me of my route, what to expect along the road ahead and express their wishes that I journey with them again in the future. I will always be grateful to this group, forever hold them in high regard for the work they do and the people they are, but I am unsure if I shall join them on future forays. I miss them already. I miss the camrarderie, the rough jokes and family atmosphere. I miss the training, the feeling of belonging and inclusion. For all that, though, I do not miss the danger, the hair-raising moments when I thought that my life, or the life of another, would end abruptly in a clash of sword and teeth.
I followed their directions and arrived in a ruined town called Ost Forod some days later. Thankfuly, I ran into Anddo there and whilst I still do not particularly like this hobbit, still I am glad that he cares so much for Baradar. He was able to point me in the right direction to seek out our missing friend and thus I went on my way as quickly as possible.
A further few days found me blinded by the bright snowy wastes of Forochel, my footsteps almost constantly dogged by starved wolves. Alone, lost and almost frozen; it has not been a pleasant time for me. I am still too thin. I may have put on a little weight and even a little muscle at the hands of the milita men, but there still lies very little flesh between my skin and my bones. It is not enough to keep me even a little heated here, no matter how many layers of clothing I don.
I was lucky, though. A few days was all it took before I found him and together we made our way back to a village called Kauppa-Kohta. We are here now. Baradar, beaten and bruised as he is, is resting himself in a nearby tent whilst I huddle next to this fire, using the light to write by. My fingers are stiff and my body is frozen. I am finding it difficult to write, even to think in this bone-crushing chill.
We will leave on the morrow, thank goodness. How I long to be in warmer climes again.
