We reached Eregion this afternoon, the raven and I.

Having no map and no local knowledge, I am unsure of which area I have made camp this eve. I know only that the cold white snow has long since given way to pleasant green and a late summer warmth that does much to thaw my pale skin.

I made it to the foot of the Misties around four days ago.

It has been a pretty uneventual ascent thus far, which is nice, unless you count the raven.

Two days ago now, I had rounded a bend in the trail only to spot a ragged little black shape lying atop the pristine snow. Curious, and quite bored of all the blinding white, I struggled through the snowbank to take a closer look. It was, as it turns out, the aforementioned bird.

Having run out of food yesterday, I decided it was about time that I changed tactic.

These past nine days have been more than a little inconvenient and not at all leisurely regardless of my high degree of inactivity during them. The warg, having followed me diligently all this time and likely having got somewhat bored himself, finally deigned to speak to me. More to the point, he spent some time mocking me before laying his head down to rest; secure in the knowledge that I would stay up here out of reach as I had continued to do since he first found me.

It is now day five of pretending to be a bird.

Regardless of my careful rationing I am now running out of, well, rations. Another day or two stuck up here and I think I shall begin to starve. That, of course, is nothing new to me but living nostalgia is not always a good plan. I would really rather keep eating my scant meals.

I am still in the tree.

It remains an uncomfortable and tenuous position but a far better one, I think, than down on the ground with that warg. I was correct in my assumption that it would not allow me much rest last night, but the beast itself seems to be feeling the effects of its own enthusiasm. It stopped scrabbling and pacing some time ago and now alternates between snoozing with its head on its paws and sitting on its haunches to look up at me with murder in its yellow eyes.

I write now from the branches of a tree. A tree. It is somewhat uncomfortable and highly undignified, but at least my thick furs lend me some measure of comfort due to their padding capabilities.