I sit here now in the Prancing Pony, seated in my usual chair near the fireplace in the hallway. Arugru is next to me, his thin but large body leaning against my leg and his huge head laid upon my lap. He looks happy, content, his thick furry tail occasionaly making a muted thud upon the wooden floor as he raises then drops it in a subdued wag. The gentle crackle of flames upon wood fills my ears, the acrid smell of smoke from the fire filling my nostrils. It is comfortable, peaceful, and only the occasional person passes us by at this time of day.

On the road, east of Lindon, 44th day of Iavas

Nigh Baranduin, 37th day of Iavas

I have been trying to go on as normal in the face of what I now know. It has been difficult to put a smile on for those who know me as well as those who do not. Too many ask if I am well or what is wrong in the moments when my true inner-turmoil shows through and how can I answer that? "A man tried to kill me so I killed him first," is hardly something one would wish to say aloud, especially to complete strangers. Instead I force myself to smile and nod, pretending to all and sundry that my life is just peachy when inside I just want to curl up and cry.

Tonight I decided to join a music festival hosted by my own house, an event open for everyone that loves the art of music.
I decided to play a song I wrote myself yesterday. Is a dark song, with much energy.. It's called The dark rider.. Is about everything I fear in this world.. I thought maybe I should play a happy, cheerful tune. But rumors said that others would do that.. So I would stick to my song..

And I found him…