[This entry is written in Sindarin in a small leather-bound journal. A few red speckles litter the page.]
I was so foolish! How could this have happened? I should have been there, and perhaps he wouldn’t have been taken…
I went with Lamaenon and the Grey Company to Tur Morva that night. The peoples' false smiles lulled me into a sense of security. I left Lamaenon and the Rangers to their business and went back to the edge of the village to tend to Belroch. I was only there for a short while when I heard the commotion from afar, mostly Lamaenon’s voice on the wind. There was rage in is voice, but more alarmingly, panic. I knew then that whatever was happening was something I couldn't handle alone. I led Belroch into the trees and hid there with her, heart pounding in my ears as I peered through the brush.
That is when I saw them, Lamaenon and a ranger being dragged to a wagon, screaming and thrashing, by the lowly Dunlending traitors… How foolish I was to trust in them! But there was little I could do, just one elf against so many. I gave them a head start and followed shortly after, keeping my distance but always keeping them within my sight. Their trail ran down through Dunland and as I soon realizing with a sinking feeling of dread, east toward Isengard. When the wagon passed through the Circle and out of my sight, I fell back and stared at the tower for a long while.
It was a hopeless thought, to try and rescue them myself, but I could not leave Lamaenon in the foul depths of Isengard without even trying. A wiser elf might have sped off to seek help right away, but I never claimed to be a wise elf. I spent three days on the very edge of Nan Curunir, and every night I tried to creep close enough to the circle to try and find some sort of weakness in the fortress’s armor… some small crack that I could slip through unnoticed. But I never made it near to the wall, for every time I tried, I was set upon by orcs and their foul warg mounts. Each time I was just barely able to fight my way back out, and I certainly didn't retreat unscathed.
I spent one more day resting and tending to my wounds before I finally admitted to myself that this plan was hopeless. I would have to leave him in the wizard’s grasp until I could find aid from elsewhere… I write now from a small camp on my way back home. I will stop in and gather more supplies, and ride for Imladris from there. If Lord Elrond can offer no help, then I will go to Lorien, and even to King Thranduil if I must. I will not rest until I free Lamaenon and bring him home safe.
If I do not write again, then it is because I found no help and returned to Isengard alone. I will die fighting before I lose Lamaenon too.
