September 30, 3018, between the Bruinen and the Misty Mountains

It has been 8 weeks since I last saw a living man. All around me the wild lands have grown oppressively quiet. Not a breath but my own seems to stir. I miss the horse.

The terrain has been rough and rocky, and when I am not in a nearly impassable forest, I am in nearly impassable brush. The horse would have been a hindrance for sure, but at least he was a friendly beast. His snorts and whinnies would have broken this silence, and his stomping feet and flicking tail would have stirred the still air. Though he was but a dumb beast, there was some sentience and emotion behind those big eyes. There is little sentience in this tree I lean upon, at least none that I can sense.

I have passed through every valley, looked behind every hill, but Imladris remains hidden from me. How I long to leave this accursed wilderness and return to my city and my people, but I will not return to them empty-handed.

Boromir

September 9th, 3018, between the Bruinen and the Misty Mountains

Many days have I wandered now in wilderness, searching the hills and dales between the river and the mountains. Not a soul have I seen, save the birds in the air and beasts on the ground, nor a sign of any settlement, now or in the past. I am beginning to wonder how I will ever find Rivendell, but find it I must

I let the horse go a week ago. Some might call that foolish, that I could eat the horse if necessary, or use him for warmth, but though my provisions run low, the horses of the Rohirrim are not for eating, and it is warm yet. This is not horse country, and he knows the way home.

I gather what edibles I can as I go, and keep my bow at the ready so that I might snare a wild hare or hind.

Boromir

August 19, 3018, along the Greyflood

For two weeks now I have traveled northward along the banks of the river Greyflood. The going has been rough, and oft I have had to leave the banks and search for clearer passage. There has been no road to follow, only the sight and sound of the water. If anyone ever lived here, they must have been light-footed wood Elves who lived in trees and made no paths.

I stand now at the fork of the waterway, and my road and my destiny turn northeast along the Bruinen. This I shall follow for a day, and then I shall begin to cross and search the lands that lie between the river and the mountains. Heretofore , my path has been sure, but now I face a hard and lonely task, one sure to be full of doubt and much fruitless searching. If I succeed, there is hope for my people. If I fail, after a time, Minas Tirith will fall, and a blackness will take over the land. I must succeed, or die trying.

Boromir

August 5, 3018, Tharbad

I have restocked my provisions and I leave today to follow the Greyflood north. If a Halfling is to figure in this quest, then I will find him in Rivendell.

Boromir

August 3rd, 3018, Tharbad

Aye, many have heard of the place called Rivendell, the realm of Elrond the Halfelven, but none know the way. The "last homely house" some call it, a refuge for the wayward traveler. Rangers from the north lands come to Tharbad sometimes, and they know where it is hid, but they tell little of their secret ways, and no ranger can now be found, not unless he wishes to be found. The innkeeper speaks with them when they pass through and drags out of them what tales he can. From their talks, he gathers that I should leave the road and follow the river Greyflood north, until I come to a fork in the waterway. To the left will be the river Hoarwell and to the right the Loudwater, Bruinen in the Elven tongue. The Loudwater will slowly angle to the mountains and somewhere between that river and the mountains should lie the valley I seek.

Of Halflings though, the people knew more. I was told that most of them lived northwest of here, in a place called Shire, where few men ever go, but that some also lived near the crossing of the North-South road and the East-West road, in a town called Bree.

A Southerner agreed, saying that he was returning from Bree and had seen many of the little folk, so apparently they are real and not legend. I now must decide whether to seek these Halfings, or continue on my quest for Rivendell. One is a sure thing now, the other, still a legend.

Boromir

My Portrait

A traveling artist passing through Tharbad sketched this for me for a few silver pennies. Her name, Morgan Fitzsimmons, like the accent here, sounded strange to my ears. They speak the common tongue here of course, but it is more rustic, and the names of the people and places echo a language older than Westernesse. Her home, www.otherworldfantasies.com, sounded even stranger than her name, but it also sounded like a place a tired soldier might find, uh, rest.

Boromir

August 1st, 3018, Tharbad

I reached Tharbad yester eve, at the crossing of the Greyflood and the North-South road. Once a thriving town, it is now little more than a travelers' rest and a trading post. I have taken a room in the inn, and find it good to sleep on a mattress instead of the ground and to have a hot meal. The courteousness here is welcome after the cold stares of the Dunlendings and leers of thick-necked swarthy men, from whence they come I know not. Here they are eager for news from the South - eager for news of anything. They know little of our troubles to the east.

The road here was long; the people and dwellings sparse once I drew west of Dunland. Travelers of an unsavory sort there were though, but they did not harry me. I don't doubt some of them would have robbed me in my sleep if I were not so well-armed.

There are a few Southerners in the common room, some with the same ill-favoured look. The innkeeper is friendly though. I will speak with him soon, and any of the other locals, to see what they know of the place called Rivendell.

Boromir

Intermission

Here are some of the other character's blogs written by various authors (see, I am not alone in my craziness):

www.gandalfsjournal.blogspot.com

www.merrysjournal.blogspot.com

Pippin's Blog

Strider's blog

Eomer's diary

Sam's diary

At this time, Pippin's author is busy with her freshman year of college and is on a bit of a hiatus. She is also compiling Strider's blog, though it is written by someone else, and that too is behind. For more on Strider's blog visit

boards.netscape.com/lordoftherings

Select the Prancing Pony board, set your preferences to read back through about August 1st, and to "threaded." Look for the title "Strider's Blog".

All of our blogs are posted and discussed on the Prancing Pony message board. Visitors are welcome and encouraged.

If I get sufficiently motivated and no one else grabs them first, I will start blogs for Gimli and Legolas as well.