I read the journals In the archives...I saw the maps, and I read about my fathers warband, doing their last stand north in Eregion..So it was true.. Matheric was right..
The book slipped from my hands, and hit the floor with a smash. Matheric came up to me and picked up the book, and placed it back carefully in the bookshelfs..
So it was true. my father was dead...No use to search for him anymore, no use to hope anymore, and occupie my thought with silly dreams and ideas..

Time passes and nothing happens.

I have spoken to many of late. Baradar over his concerns for the saftey of his wife. Seaver over the situation he is in and the fate of both himself and his baby brother. Even that narcissitic bigot of an elf has reared his head - and my ire.

See them on the bounds
Whilst doing the rounds
They're keeping the Shire
All safe and all sound
They walk round and round
On all types of ground
They're rooting out trouble
Wherever it's found

They bound all the day
To chase wolves away
And keep nasty brigands
And goblins at bay
At day or at night
No need to take fright
The bounders will be there
To put all things right

There he stand, cleared of all sins...

The man sits by a small, fragile tree... Covered by the shade of the leaves he holds a small, red book... The whistling wind blowing his swept back hair over his face.The calm and gentle atmosphere devoures him as he scans the pages. The way he once lived and enjoyed has come back to him, a fresh start has begun...

I killed him, I did it today, I can still smell the blood. After these years I finally tracked down the man responsible for all my woe and misery, the man who robbed me of house, home, rank and honour