I chose to travel near the red horn pass, to ensure no fell creatures of the east spill over into these lands. The mountain wolves already dwell in the elf-vale, it would be good to know what path they traveled, or better yet, put an end to their deeds.
As I trekked up-hill on the path leading to the pass, I saw many cruel-faced men on the path. These I had seen before, they seemed to be akin to the men I saw not two days ago. In the dying light
I could make out their faces all the clearer, and it seemed to me that these men were not wholly men at all. Their faces and gaunt complexion resembled those of orcs more than men.
They way-laid the path, and I was forced to maneuver around them, which seemed to pose little challenge in the now growing darkness. Among them I saw also the great mountain wargs, which led me to believe they share common goals.
After I passed through the blockaded passage, I could feel the cold begin to set in again. Not the still, bitter cold accustom to Forochel, but a fierce cold, accompanied by a bellowing wind. The path I took soon was covered in snow, but I pressed on farther, I felt I had to ensure no path was laid for the wargs to cross.
My path was soon concealed by the snow, and I had thoughts of turning back. Not too long after, I saw a rather oddly shaped rock. Upon further inspection, I was shocked to see that in fact the rock was not a rock, but the body of a frozen dwarf. The sight brought sorrow to my heart, as I remembered the kinsmen of Durin that I met in Forochel.
I was silent for a time, and the only sound that could be heard was the whistling wind as it passed over my head. I came to the conclusion that there was no chance a wandering party of these orc-men could travel over the mountain at this time of year, and chose to turn back. I saw no reason for me to meet the same fate as this traveler had.
