As I suspected; I was pursued.

Orcs of Orthanc came after me, and I fled to the River; but they were stayed in their footsteps by the sun's fair light.

I now follow the river West, and I see the shores of the Great Sea!

Once I come to the mouth of the river, I will head North; into Enedwaith.

To the Greyflood river, I will go.

Alas, what friendships we had with the Istari, Curunír, are gone.

I witnessed, from afar, the destruction of Orthanc's surrounding forest. The once fertile land, now a barren waste.

Orcs and Men linger there now, and I am sure that they have spotted me in the distance. There is smoke and fire, and commotion. Atop his tower, there he is. Curunír himself; staring around the land...

Another day has passed since last I wrote in this journal.

I explored what I could of Fangorn Forest; but quickly, I became lost.

With luck, and guidance from the veil of night, however, I made my way to the Southern edge of the Forest.

Two days past, and I arrived in Fangorn Forest.

It is old, the tree's are thinly spaced. The air is close, and aged.

I am filled with fear, for some reason; the forest is residence to the Ents and Entwives; yet I have seen naught of them.

What has happened to these guardians of Yavanna? Those whom were friendly with my people in the days of Old?

I must continue...