Oh, my dearest diary, my companion —
Hope has come at last, in the shape of a Dúnadan Woman from the north. Her name is Artewen and she gives me, for the first time since Lindon, hope that my husband’s brother yet lives.
I must scrawl this in haste, but the bandit-camp in the Arnorian ruin is as deserted as sunken Beleriand. More, a tall ellon calling himself “Alice” (note to self, that is a female’s name) returned to that horrible inn with the hole in the roof.
It must be that Daegond lives — it simply must. Otherwise I shall have to account for my failure to detain him before Tindir, and Anglachelm... but worst of all, to Themodir some day when our work is done and my foot once again touches the shore of Aman.
I worked so very hard, in that curious house on the edge of the forest, to save the Hound. Valar grant that my labor shall not have been in vain!
Must go. I am bringing Artewen a very, very good wine. Also remind me to call on Elloen. There is so much to be done!