The Misty Mountains Campaign

When I awoke this morning the air seemed colder than when I slept, though the fire was already lit and others had risen. We did not tarry long at the camp, just enough to finish off the steaks from the giant aurochs and check over our equipment before heading further up into the mountains.

We rose at first light and began preparations to move. Staying too long in one location here is dangerous, as we soon found out when wargs surrounded our camp. They outnumbered us, snarling and growling as they circled us. As I have said before I am glad that my companions are so capable in battle and that they remembered their training and formed a circle to protect from all angles of attack. The ensuing battle was fast and confusing with enemies coming from all sides.

I spent most of this morning in the stables tending to Faranere to prepare her for the journey into the Misty Mountains from Imladris. I also checked and double checked all of my equipment. It felt good to finally be able to carry my weapons again.

I awoke more rested today than I ever have, this land must have some kind of power over it. Elven magic no doubt, though if it helps me sleep without my usual dreams I welcome it. I met with the Grey Warden on the bridge by the last homely house, he was deep in thought and holding a locket. I assume it to be an heirloom from a lost love much like the wedding band I carry to remember my late wife Maethorwen. We shared little conversation but enjoyed the view of the falls of Imladris, Brammy later joined us.

I awoke early and went to hunt for breakfast. After a short search I found a rabbit warren and caught a fair number of them by employing an old trick I made. I set snares at the all but one of the entrances to the warren then set a fire at the last one, the rabbit's flee the smoke and practically catch themselves! 

So, the company has set off at last. Brammy found himself at ease within the column of riders as the green lands of Bree rolled by, gradually turning to the harsher colours of the lands known as the Lone-lands. By now they had made it to the beautiful Bruinen Gorges, where they had set up camp. He had warmed to the Dawners, as they called themselves, more than he had ever done to the Blackwolds. 

Though it was the view of many that I had arrived late to our venture when I finally caught up to the company at the Last Bridge I would dare to say that I arrived just on time. No sooner had we crossed the bridge and entered the Trollshaws than a party of orcs ambushed us and began an assault, though their numbers were greater than our own we felled many of them and received few injuries of our own. It was curious though, when they broke off in retreat they tried to run passed us and into the Lone-Lands.

“The journey is the treasure.”