I have walked about 90 miles straight in two days! None here shall say it so, thus I will: impressive. The pass of the Isenmouthe was tricky, but once I passed it I could follow the ash mountains into the ashy plains of Gorgoroth. Foul stories I've read on this place, and none too many. 'Twas a very long time ago when anything but orc-filth marched through this land.
I put up camp close to the ash mountains for cover. I saw an orc patrol not long ago and I fear the next 90 miles will no doubt be troublesome if I use the main road. Luckily I can see where I'm headed, though not much is left of it. Barad-Dûr, the dark tower. What I will find there I do not know, but I may hope that my presence here stays unnoticed.
The mountain of fire lies ahead. Its smoke rises high up in the sky and blots out much of the light - not that there is much of it anyway. It is not easy to mark night from day here!
My hauberk is covered in ash and dust. My throat parched by the poisonous air. Aye, it is time to rest. Tomorrow my adventure will continue.
