Oldgrove takes me west out o' the dead-fields. In the dark, I dursen't recognise much, but we goes further than I ever been. Past some stone lords at a cross-road, past the tombs of dead folk... and then.. and then... I sees...

We have just come back from a wonderful trip to Thorin's Hall, a dwarf stronghold deep in a mountainside in Ered Luin. The dwarfs themselves are fascinating people, they have an incredibly rich heritage and history. It was Svikt's idea to go. I was working on some mending in the common room when he came up to me and started talking. He said he had enjoyed our trip to the Shire and our picnic so much that he wanted to take me somewhere further away.

Beside the Ered Luin, which is Blue Mountains, lived both Elves and Dwarves. Those mountains acted as a natural divide between the remnants of once majestic Beleriand, being Lindon, and the other lands of Eriador. At its feet on the eastern face stood many ruins in the lands known as the Falathlorn or “the Anchorage’s Shore” where once many fair folk did dwell and yet remains a testament to ages past when the Eldar were abundant in Middle-Earth, before the world was changed.

As the Third Age of the world nears its end and the fate of Arda is in contest, the peoples of many nations rally to once again challenge the growing shadow in the east. Elves, Men, Dwarves, Ents and even the hereto little known people of the Hobbits, of whom perhaps the greatest deeds of that age are being done, stand for their part and contribute to our combined purpose. That purpose being nothing less then the purging of a great evil and the liberation of the world from a second darkness that would well threaten to break the world that the destiny of all Eldar are forever tied to.

Dear mum,

Finally arrived in Bree so I'm writing you this letter to let you know I am alright. Poor Ghostwalker had a hard time on the trip, I didn't always have oats for his evening meal and he had to make do with grass. Not that he ever complains. I am staying at the Prancing Pony Inn, the one Henry recommended. It's supposed to be the best inn around. Don't let me forget to tell you about the hobbits.

I am out. It has taken me all this time to realise, that rotting between the planks of the stocks, awaiting the hangman's noose is not the way I wanted things to be. A friend of mine, who I find myself to miss now more than ever; told me to make the most of life. That life is what you make it, but I should forget about Abrianna. I cannot, and I will not try any longer.