Chronicled in Ost Guruth of the Nain Enidh in the Lone-lands of Eriador,
On this the 6th day of Echuir in the Year 3018 of the Third Age.
It is a strange thing that the edain who here abide in Ost Guruth name themselves 'Eglain', the Forsaken. For in ancient days, Eglath was the name by which my Teleri kin first called themselves when they remained in Beleriand for to seek their lost lord Elwë (that is Elu Thingol in our tongue), ere they were named the Sindar by the Noldorin exiles; and thereafter so named were the Falathrim (or Egladhrim) of Lord Círdan.
And so it has come to pass that the ruined keep of Ost Guruth, once-great fortress of Rhudaur ere it fell in the wars with Arthedain, serves now as a stronghold for the Eglain; and it brings me no comfort that its very name signifies "City of Death". This knowledge I have not shared with Todsi Silverbeard and the Dwarves of the caravan, for they are happy to be off the perilous East Road and are in high spirits at this respite in their long journey.
Todsi, however, is having grim misgivings regarding the attack in the Shire by half-orc brigands ere we reached Bree, and he suspects that there is perhaps a Dourhand spy within our midst. Indeed, they knew much of the caravan and its course and schedule, and thus I believe my friend's doubts are well-founded. Alas, the road is hazardous enough without the added peril of treachery!
My time in Ost Guruth has mostly been spent in the company of Gódrun, an adaneth scholar who shelters here behind the broken walls of the fortress, for she knows of Forgamthan by name and repute; and also with Aric the Stone-speaker, reader of runes, who studies the history of this forgotten realm. But I have kept my letter secret, for the threat of treachery is now also on my mind.
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