A nice day for continuous travel! Sun is down, yet the night leaves a shade of beauty everywhere it comes. The lands are truly amazing, even though abandoned and deserted. Lone-Lands are lone for a reason, but the cruel title does not take it's beauty away. Watching those massive hills and ruines, imagining how they looked like in the days of the young Arda, imagining who used to live here, who used to inhabit the lands before my ancestors came is fascinating and exciting. What else can I say about them? Well, first of all, I rarely reflect my thoughts on a chunk of paper of some crappy old book, so now sharing all these moments with you already shows my pure, sincere interest towards I see, towards what surrounds me.
Am I coming back to the North? To the West? Well, who knows. Even I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet. I need to have something that might pull me there. Yet I have barely anything that keeps me there. Friends? No friends. More of acquaintances.There are some people I know better than the others, but I should not hope for their acceptance. No need to show a spark of weakness to the ones I barely care about. All I care about is my life, life of my remaining family, life of those who truly need help in the times of darkness. That's where I can get emotional, release sorrow and hate. That's why I don't know if I am coming back. Simply have to give myself more time to find a better reason.
Speaking of time. It was not favoring me the past days. I have to stride and reach the settlement as soon as I can. Father won't wait for long, I think. Well, I wouldn't. A bit short on patience. Nothing of my own, all inherited. At least I use it as an excuse. After that I am planning to head further East, to the lands I came from. Dark, grim forests of Mirkwood. I can smell wet soil already. And dirt. A lot of nasty dirt. My break is being big enough. A few things have to be finished and then I am off. Off back home. My home.
Good night, rusty old book. We shall meet again.
Eyo.
(The book left by the rock on the Weathertop, simply lying there as a forgotten possession)
