It has been a long time since I have unearthed this diary from its shelter, the very shelter I left it in before I departed from Bree over a year ago. I admit, I find myself surprised it is still here. When I left, I did not expect to return, and as such I did not put much effort into hiding this journal. Why, I'm not quite sure. I was not at my most calm at the time. Perhaps I wished for some semblance of... immortality? Would that be the correct word? It seems foolish writing that sentence down with my elvish hand, but... perhaps that's what is was. Yes, I will live until I die by battle, or until I finally travel to Mithlond and leave these shores. But will I be remembered? Do I have loved ones that will mourn my passing? I am not sure.
Either way, the journal was undisturbed by anything other than the touch of nature when I returned to its hiding place to retrieve it. I have returned to Bree. It has not changed much since I left for Taur-e-Ndaedelos, but I met my old friend Amnildir in the Pony. Crime seems to have risen and other old friends have left for journeys of their own.
I am wary of what I will run into.
