Day 75 of exile
Elves are a strange folk. I don't know what they do all day except having that all important look on their faces. During the evening they sing songs so sad that I keep wondering who just died. Some elves take to the wine and I find myself drawn to them. We drink together but they aren't exactly jolly. When ever I try to sing a happy drinking song, they just sigh. But I can abide their dreariness because the wine is to die for. For four days now I have found myself either drinking or recovering from the less enjoyable after effects.
Despite the wine and the revelling, I feel strongly that I don't belong here and should leave. But to go where? The Misty Mountains block the path to the east, so north or south it is. What finally made me decide was the news that Lord Gloin runs a camp up north. Gloin...one of Oakenshield's chosen, I had to see him. I am light hearted now at the prospect of leaving Rivendell behind.
Day 84 of exile
Oh dear me, I'm back in Rivendell again. Meeting Lord Gloin wasn't exactly what I had hoped for. Upon me asking he only replied ”Thorin was my King and my friend” To my disappointment that was all he said on the matter. Foolish me for thinking he'd share his version of the story. Instead he order me to scout for him. Which I failed at miserably. I managed to stumble into a raging blizzard. Rather than seeking shelter I braved the storm. Suddenly I heard dwarves talking and I was happy to be back in Gloin's camp...or so I though. Turned out I was walking straight into a small group of Dourhands! My attires, which the Longbeard Refr had gifted me, was a dead giveaway. They charged me head on and I had no choice but to fight. I downed two of them before the others hesitated long enough for me to slip away into the storm.
O woe me! I failed to keep my promise to Mahal. I pray for his forgiveness and understanding. Killing dwarves again, be it Dourhands, have left me with a profound sadness.
Tomorrow I'll leave the elves, engulfed in their sorrows. I'll be heading south, following the mountain range.
Day 91 of exile
Gwingris, Eregion – a bunch of ruins and more sad elves. If this was their home once, I can certainly understand them. At least no Dourhands reported. I will continue south in the morning.
