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