The night is cold, it is nearing Winter, yet the fire is warm and pleasant. Each day we come closer to our destination, I find more questions in need of answers.
Perhaps it would be best for them if I left in the dead of night. Without me as a guide, they would not find their way through the Fields. Yet, I find I am oddly drawn to my young companions. I am curious and also troubled. Ah, if only the girl-poet Gyth put her gift to a clearer use, court bards would sing her songs on festivities for Kings. Is that my fear?
Is that truly why I stay and pursue this folly? I cannot allow such a gifted poet spreading her tales of strife and betrayal that never took place. Even I, who have seen the libraries of Imladris and the texts of ages-old historians, whose heart belongs to the People in peerless devotion and love, find traces of doubt creeping into my soul, whispering of the treacherous evil of the Elves. I must see this through. And I must meet this "Burnt Man", whoever he is, and expose him for the ignorant fool or treacherous villain that he may be.
And as I lead them further North to the fields of the Lost, toward the city long since abandoned by light and hope, I fear for my charges. They are not aware of what we will find there. Of the everlasting shadow of those Betrayed. Of their far-away cries of anguish, their ghastly forms only glimpsed in the supressing dark.
Ai! Elbereth...where am I leading them?
