I use this backside of map to write my last words, if they be. I have oil in lamp only so little left, and of food, only one old biscuit and a little bit of water left on the bottoms of waterskin. I am weak to find a way out, And voices sing, scream and moan, while i choke in the dust of forgotten hallways in Barrows.
If anyone finds me, I am Briannon Whitrose of Bree, i leave all my belongings and cottage on the lake to my forsaken love Tindam, for he deserves to hold his hands work. Barrows are deathly alive, and it was not for few seasons ago. I hear voices..many, one.. old language i knew not off. I entered seeking old treasures and ended up cornered in small corridor after part of it fell and cut of my way out. Stones are too heavy, and i am weaker and weaker.. How many days passed? I don't know, night is all around me.
Voices that approach aer so clear, does dead walk toward me?
I loved you Tindam, and you my dear cousins, my friends.
((happened before her return to Bree after longer time, before she met Cirywen and other Nomads))
