259 days Untill Durin's day.
Not A day goes by with out missing you m'dear Brulda.
My heart is scarred. My mind occupied. I have written A note for my companion who I promised to travel back with to Bree. I hope she understands. I dearly hope.
I have prepared for a long journey. A very long journey, and I do not intent to come back any time soon, A small host of Dwarves will accompany me back to the Lonely Mountain. The Dwarves are called to war, the Son's of Durin are gathering their great War Machines,weapons and axes. We will begin our march at dawn.
Dwalin wants word to reach Erebor, and I have been assigned to to make sure that words reaches our mighty King. I do not think the Lady Dunédain will understand my oddly timed departure nor do I have the courage to face her, nor have the time to do so.
The company of Dwarves has been following us closely whilst we were traveling back to Bree, and I have taken me leave as she fell asleep. A letter the only thing to remind her of my agree-ment.
I have made arrangement that my new found allies won't be with out help how ever. I called in A favor with an old friend of mine, and I expect him to arrive on his destination soon now. Knowing him ever although the Rangers arn't at their camp anymore where I last saw them, he will be able to track them down.
To my dear lady Numénorian I can only say sorry. But I hope my letter will explain why I had to leave...I have even considered leaving this page of my diary for her, but it would be reckless.
Now it is time to march, our first milepoint, the redhorn peak. And so the long march begins.
KHAZÂD! KHAZAD!
