The “journal” is a stack of rolled sheets of vellum in a waterproofed scroll case. The handwriting is childish and blocky, and the writing contains numerous errors in spelling and grammar. The transcription here omits the errors for clarity.
(Rohan, in the south-east. I did not go far from the village, for a reason I will explain presently.)
Quite a lot has taken place since the last time we spoke. A battle, a rescue, and a lot of misplaced faith. The job is done, but it does not need to be spoken of again. Neither does it deserve the retelling. Let shameful things lie.
I waited after taking my payment and leaving — I thought I might be followed shortly by that poor girl. It took her long enough to realize her own heart, but I was right (as usual). I did not like the thought of leaving her to set out on her own, having given up what little friendship or respect she might have felt for that place. It is a lonely enough road when you value your life, and she does not. That much is written plain as day in her words. Whether she knows it or not, she will not be traveling alone until I feel certain I can trust her with herself.
[here the ink is blotted and smudged]
Looking at her is like looking in a mirror. I could not have a daughter naturally but if I can reach her, I will consider it close enough.
Bree-land was a pointless lead. Rohan was a waste of several months and the money is tainted by something dark. I have not returned to Gondor in…how long has it been now? Too long. I owe D. a visit, and the trail has gone cold.
Where else to start than back at the beginning?
