*There is a vile looking stain of crimson red blood on the side of the page. There is a sketch of a grim bear trap done in granite pencil along with crude sketches of old twisted deciduous trees and roots on a sheet of paper enclosed in the page. The Author is clearly no artist and what's more off putting is the strange letters traced on the bottom of the page, it appears to be a dialect of Sindarin, though The Author is no Elf... How come he knows such scripture?*
It took me a long while to think of what to write here today... It has been a harrowing and stressful night for us all... We only just made it out alive.
I ought to start from the beginning, for even now, our ordeal would have been for naught if it weren't for our shocking discovery in those woods...
I have been keen to listen to the tales of the Bree Folk while at my short stay at the Prancing Pony. The same night I met with the Hobbit, Derosyn, I was keen to listen in on the gossip of the patrons, for the Folk of Bree talk often and perhaps carelessly, it was in my best interests to evesdrop in on the forester's discussion. For they spoke of trouble in Buckland.
We have all heard the old Wive's tales here in the North that Foresters would often tell keen and excitable Hobbit children That the trees in the Old Forest were in fact alive, that they talked to each other and even moved... For most, that is but a myth and a legend, for the Forest is indeed ancient, their seeds perhaps were implanted in the Earth before even the Elves came unto Middle Earth in the First Age. Such tales are debatable on how accurate they are... But still I cannot let last night's venture go forgotten and undocumented, for what we experienced there was plain unnatural...
I was summoned to our secret keep, as we, the Rangers of the North were mustering whatever strength we can to focus our efforts. Our numbers are small but our strength is in secrecy and competent planning. Never underestimate the tactics of the Dúnedain, for we are only too used to the grim face of battle...
The whereabouts of the Keep I shall not tell even in my diary, for fear of it being misplaced or even stolen, I can risk my true feelings and desires, but to risk the whereabouts of our base of operations is unforgivable, revealing this much about my ventures is putting me at risk already. Though I deem it worth to document my ventures, as I often keep telling myself that one day it'll be worth the read.
Whilst there, I met with my new companions, there too I also met with a woman named Ulfey, a mysterious one I'll grant... The people of Bree have tales of her too, a Witch of terrible power living in the Chetwood... Though much unlike the tales of the Old Forest, I'll also grant that these rumors are false... She is a kind soul and devotes a lot of her strength to our cause.
My companions and I ate supper around a long table, there our captain, Thorontir explained to us a plan to head into the Old Forest down South and assist Ulfey's role to implant 'wards' beneath the roots of the trees to prevent their malice... A concept in which I am most unfamiliar with, it felt to me a lot like what the Bree Folk would call 'magic', for they are a very superstitious lot and are afeared of things that seem otherworldly.
Now come to think of it, Ulfey indeed knows much about such things... Ancient powers and 'otherworldly' things... But that's not my area of expertise, I ought not to dwell or question it. Her skill in healing surpasses all but even the most experienced healers. I have much to thank her for... She saved my leg last night.
“Aye, I ought to write more about that... It will serve as an interesting tale when I feel better.” I hear myself saying, it is getting late and I wish to rest soon... But luckily I have surplus amount of ink, for we are rather well stocked here up in our secret keep. I wonder how our brothers in Esteldín and Annúminas fare, I have heard very little from them of late...
My mind is scattered, for I am wary and feel unwell, though surely it is but a chill in the wind that I feel. Truth be told, I feel strangely cold..
It was merely last night that we traveled under the cover of the dark to the Old Forest, we were ready with these wards, as soon as I set eyes upon the forest, I felt unnerved, for it was as if the very trees were groaning in disapproval of our arrival...
We pressed on, it was explained to me how the Forest was in fact alive and that the trees had unfortunately fell to a vile sickness... The likes of which is outright unnatural, it turned the very trees against us. The forest was turning evil...
We made our way to a clearing in the woods. It was then I noticed the squabbling cries of crows... Looking to the canopy of the forest, I seen that they were in fact not crows of Bree, but a larger and more keener sort from the lands of the South... They were crebain from Dunland. It was strange indeed to see such a bird as far North as the Old Forest... What they were doing there I do not know, whether they are fleeing from trouble down South or in fact there for a dark purpose I could not tell.
I was so distracted by these squabbling birds that I made a very foolish and painful mistake of stepping onto a well concealed bear trap... The pain shot up my leg like a shock, and before I knew it, several of my companions rushed to my aid.
I tried my very best to remain silent, though I wanted to scream, the teeth of the trap bit and gnawed at my leg like many cold sharp knives.
This bear trap was not of the sort the Bree Foresters would use, it was much too large and incredibly more vile... I suspect the work of Orcs! Though I cannot be too rash... It could be very well that a foolish forester had bought some traps from a shady man in a tavern and set them there... Though upon more contemplation and after the others prodded the area for more traps, it was apparent that whoever had lain those traps there wished for someone to stay out... A troubling thought indeed.
I am lucky though, for Ulfey tended to my wounds there and then, using many strange and sweet smelling salves to stop the pain as best as possible, though I could not walk without assistance... I became very much a burden that night...
Before I felt ready enough to get up and head back, it was to my shock that the very trees seemed to have moved in such a way to make leaving practically impossible, we were trapped... Our only way would be to press on.
Fear took my heart, so too did wariness and fatigue. Strange voices I heard, like distant shrill whispers of an unfamiliar tongue... Though I knew they spoke of death and sickness... I felt like I was in a waking nightmare...
Not much further down the road of agony did I stumble over thick roots, before I knew it, the very brash and roots had wrapped round my good leg, leaving me lost underneath a curtain of thorny brambles... The branches of the trees whipped and torn at us, we were disorientated and in the confusion, we were separated...
The world grew dark, I saw my friends struggle free from the entangling trap of the forest and rush to my aid... But by then, strength left me and I saw only darkness...
I am very lucky to have woke up in a warm bed, though none will tell me of how we escaped. Even now I still feel the wrath of the forest keeping its attention on me, I feel dark... As if there is a strange spell upon me. I wish that sleep shall free me from this state, though even my dreams appear to be haunted...
