Forgive my long silence for I've had little time to rest. I feel even my Eldar blood is not enough for the trials I've faced of late.
|Saruman's horde before Helm's Deep|
I've lost track of my Charges, but I've taken up the trail of Isildur's Heir and his companions. I tracked them to Helm's Deep just in time for the Battle. It was ferocious and many good men fell. I made and lost many a friendship on that day. Stories of valour, heroism and selflessness that will endure for ages, I hope. Strangest to me was a peculiar friendship which has arisen between Aragorn's comanions, an Elf and a Dwarf, which I would have not believed had I not witnessed it. They made a wager as well between them: Who would fell the most Orcs, and I can tell you there were enough Orc heads to cleave for everyone of us.
The night was long but and I made peace with my self and steeled my self for a last Riding behind Aragorn and King Theoden. Magnificent did he shone, like a king of Men of Old! We rode out to meet out deaths in glory and gore, but at Dawn's coming a light shone from the East. At first I thought it was the Sun's first rays then he appeared, unlooked for as always but exactly at the right time. Mithrandir! He had rode all day and night gathering onto him all the scattered Riders as well as Theoden's sister-son Eomer and his calvary. I was also awed to see the Forest of Fangorn march out to battle as well. The Ents awaited the escaping Orcs at the edge of the battlefield and devoured them as the ran headlong from the united armies of Rohan!
After the battle we made preparations to march and muster our forces, though our rode took us through an unexpected road. I was forced to follow behind Aragorn's company through the Paths of the Dead and the City of the Dead itself, barely escaping. Now I find myself in the lands of Gondor which is beset by corsairs from the seas and Orcs from the mountains.
I'm making my way to the White City, Minas Tirith, and it looks like I'll be fighting my way there for alas, Gondor is burning!