277 days untill Durin's day
Not a day goes by with out missing you m'dear Brulda
After meeting with the Dunedain lady, it was a matter of minutes before we got going to the Lone-Lands. I found my self an pony but like many others of its breed it had a distaste for its Dwarven rider.
The road towards the Lone-lands although cold seemed un-eventful. I got to know my new met companion along the way, her stance towards me careful, but the way she was riding her steeds she looked proud, a common thing among the decedents of Numénor. She seemed to enjoy my Dwarven song, and even complimented me on my singing voice. We briefly spoke about love for our children, it was of no intent but whilst speaking of the matter my desire to have company grew less and less.
She insisted at stopping at the forsaken inn, a place well deserving of its name. My companion went to get something to eat and drink, but I hard learned my lesson the previous time came to this place.
Whilst I was going about my own business and let the ranger lady do what they do best, I noticed an awfully ugly fello' looking at my new found companion. Staring or glaring, I had a bad feeling about this man which only moments later would be confirmed.
After my companion some how obtained the information about where we needed to be, we made A stop near the Weather Hills. What I found there was unsetteling, it seemed A Dwarven caravan was ambushed there, upon further investigation we found Black Dwarven Iron. Those of my Kin would recognize it as Khazâd-Idrum, or Honor Iron. It the iron the shield of the Blue Mountain Guard is made from. Its value beyond anything here in the Lone lands. So far my quest has only let to more questions the answers. I like to say the sight of burned corpses is something I have grown accustomed to, but every time I see A ashen Dwarf I return to the young man back in Erebor trying to stand against the foul serpent.
As we continued out journey towards my companions kinsmen, my thoughts were with the Iron, no honorable Dwarf would travel would such valuable goods with such A small caravan. Time has grown dreadful, but to think foul of my kin has caught even me off guard. And I have carried the burden these brief thoughts with me until the next encountered with some of the lesser of the Human specie.
Whilst on our way towards her kinsmen we were trapped by some low life raiders. It was the ugly looking man from the Inn. Although my companion wanted to avoid violence I had intend on letting my self be insulted by some one with less honor then the dirt under my own Bronzenboots! Celonlinn suggest we resolved this peacefully, I chose willingly to ignore that request. Have the Rangers lost their way of honor much like the people of Dale have? Or was she really concerned with the wellbeing of these low life thugs? A question I have yet to answer my self. After a quick and short conversation with the thugs I noticed their leader tone, stance and pace of breathing, I knew he was scared. After he insulted my own dear mother i decided it was time to take this confrontation it to my own hands. I set up a simple yet effective trap when they asked us to surrender, their leader foolish as he was let one of his companion pick our weapons which he demanded to put down on the ground. I did as he said, and whilst his companion tried to pick them up I put the man into A Drawî headlock. As i had predicted the strength of these humans was as poor as it could be, the poor kid was helpless. Although I had no intent of killing such A young kid, if the situation requested violence I was ready to comply.
Luckely the thugs came to their senses, they backed off after they realized they wouldn't stand A chance against A Son of Durin, their leader apologized for his insults, and they went their way. After heavy insisting from my behalf. Shortly after the situation was handled, the man we were looking for appeared from behind the hill we were standing on. He called him self Thorontir. What his common-tongue name was I have quite forgotten, but upon my first look at him I saw why the Numénorians are considered the most royal of their kind. He walked like A lord and spoke like A king. A trade lacking in Bree or Dale.
We rode to his encampment and A small number of rangers were still about. We started A conversation and my fears were realized. We are on the brink of war, and my question about the evil in the east is confirmed. But besides that there is also A growing Evil in the North, an evil where the rangers can't win it by them self. It felt humbling to see such A great people request for aid. The captain is planning an attack on the enemy stronghold,but lack the numbers to launch the attack.
After handling the details I promised him my Hammer to aid him in his struggle. I have also promised to request aid from my kinsmen back in the Blue-Mountains, although I hardly think my brothern will be eager to help those who refused us help after the sacking. Never the less my kin will be eager to reclaim the lost Iron, which will give me an excuse to lead an Dwarven host into the Lone-lands. I will have to call in some favors with old friends but I hope enough will answer my call to go over to action.
What the future of this endeavor will mean to my kin and the future of Ered-Luin remains to be seen. It feels good being useful once more. Not once today I worried about my old age. The fact that I scared those thugs all on me self as well put a fire in my heart which hasn't stopped spreading since.
Tomorrow I will travel with the fair lady Numénorian to the Blue-Mountains. That i live to see the day that A ranger would come into my mighty halls is something even I couldn't have dreamed off.
