Father,

It has been some time since I last wrote and so much has transpired that I hardly feel a letter sufficient. I long to return to the Beorninghús and share my tale over a flagon of strong mead. Certainly, some events have taken place that would be worthy of a song at the hearth!

Our band dwindles by the day, however the Hobbits Trebble and Hamamac, as well as the Man Renfred and the Moria-Dwarf Jyokster have remained steadfast.

The Man Renfred was invaluable in guiding us in Bree-land, having spent his youth in the villages nearby. Despite his humble stature, Renfred has proven a brave ally and I am glad for the company. And the Hobbits have further grown on me, as has the Dwarf Jyokster.

Once we had another Moria-Dwarf, a Keeper of Runes, but he went missing in the Midgewater Marshes and has not been seen for some weeks. The marshes are treacherous no doubt--we lost our intrepid Bounder Trebble in the swamps and almost left him to a soggy end-- but I doubt the goblins got at the Dwarf. Both of the Moria-Dwarves' minds have been cracked somewhat by their servitude in the Dark Lands, so it is entirely possible that he simply wandered off and will wander back again at some point. Regardless, we have no more time to spare to search for him and have moved on.

In Bree, I finally spoke with Strider at length. We were enlisted immediately to help rescue a fallen Ranger named Amdir... but of that dark night I care to speak little. Suffice to say, events are unfolding which confirm everything that R. warned of. The Ranger Amdir was turned to a Cargûl in some foul ceremony that we arrived but moments to late to halt. And worse, I saw several of the Nine--Nazgûl!-- with my own eyes! The ceremony was led by a dark Dwarf that reeked of the stench of death and decay, as if the creature itself was dead but risen again. The foul dwarf and the Nazgûl fled while we dispatched Amdir. There was no saving him.

We returned to Bree to lick our wounds, but there was scarce opportunity to do so before Strider had us travel to Buckland to rendezvous with the Ranger Lenglinn. A fellow Beorning received word and joined us from his patrols in the Mountains just in time for the journey.

We arrived to find Lenglinn wounded (run down by one of the Black Riders) and the hills crawling with crebain. After dealing with these Eyes of the Enemy, we ventured into Buckland to investigate any evidence of remaining Black Riders. At one of the homes in the town, we were assaulted again by crebain, and some flew off into the Old Forest.

I must determine where the crebain have gone, and whether any Black Riders remain in the area. It has been a long day, frought with turmoil, and the Hobbits need rest. We spend the night in Buckland.

Tomorrow, we travel to the Old Forest. Who knows what we shall find?

Yours,
Jarngrimur