The Journal of Mornaewen

I have had to flee Bree. Shortly after I attended market day a man - I know not whom- spoke to me in Sindarin. Though I affected not to understand, it is clear to me know that some aspect of my manner or speech has betrayed my Noldor blood, despite my mannish clothing and cloak I wear tight about me. I left word with the hostler, Butterbur, that should any answer my note requesting a guide to Barrow-downs they might find me in the sheltered dell a scant few miles west of Bree.

I left the hills and valleys of Linden behind with a heaviness upon my heart, in the knowledge than when next I set eyes upon the sea's beyond it shall likely be to carry me hence across the wide ocean and return to the West as did my father before me. Well it is that I rode upon the back of a good, human-bred horse purchased from the merchants of Thrain's Hall, ere my tred would have been heavy and slowed with a great weight of melancholy upon me.