Irwthryth

Dawn was nearing. Akashpug, the chief of Târ Stazg, rubbed in his eyes and yawned. He looked around his tent. He sniffed in the air and soon a surprised smirk came on his face.  Slowly did he whisper to himself, still sleep disorientated: ''What smells so good? Man flesh?" The Uruk crawled out of his tent and rose up, looking at the sight before him.

She could still hear the laughter in her ears. It was a joke, right; a jest seeping truth, though.

Tidhelm is struggling for some sleep at her feet, all wrapped up in furs and rope, the gagging cloth still tugged in his mouth. He seems harmless for now, perhaps she can dare a short walk around the camp. She needs to be alone for a while.

Face the truth, Melowen. You can do it. You must do it.

It is night, the air is clear and the stars shine brightly over our camp. I am sitting watch once more, I think we finally made it out of those troll-infested cursed woods. Ruins of old elvish towers can be seen on the high ridges to the south. These are the fields of the dried up rivers we passed over a month ago. 

The first entry in this new blue covered journal I bought from the market in Bree. New white pages which hopefully will be filled with writings of our successful journey to our homeland. Preparations are currently on my mind. Which path shall we follow? 

The Gap of Rohan 

The mines of the dwarves

The Redhorn mountain pass near the ruins of the ancient elven kingdom

Waiting, time moves so slow. We are the guests of elves, never thought I ever needed the help of this old race. But, we do. Especially Melowen and my brother. They now lie in a tent while the elves are doing their best to tend to their wounds. That poor girl got hit by five arrows, and my brother by one arrow close to his neck. I thought I lost them, but this elf maiden has healing skills I did not deem possible. We are now on this high rock with old elven ruins, which we also crossed on our journey to the gap. Not far from here Wulfreda fell off the waterfall back then.

The dwarves, riders and the elf
Passed under the mountain dark and tall,
Within copper, iron and mithril's glimmer
Hasteful were the steps of the rider.

Down they descended deep into the Mines,
To Moria, the Great Delving of Dwarves
Blade, arrow, axe and the hilt's glitter
They walked as the tunnels darkened ever.