Journal Entry- Agamaur
Such a wondrously unusual land of contrasts Eriador is; the hidden beauty of the Shire to the desolation of the Lone-Lands. Ah, and Bree, a waypoint for the wary. The epitome of this grand experiment in chaos. I can see now why people migrate here; and also why they run screaming into the night.
Three days now since I came through the Red Pass and I find myself lost and confused; my heart heavy with sadness. I can do nothing but think of my wife, deceased twenty years now. I dare not write her name in this journal for fear that this insidious place would use it to distress me further by conjuring a foul apparition of her.
As I wander about Agamaur today, through the shallow crimson swamps, the doom of man encroaches upon my will; its sinister claws reaching out; embracing me into its bosom. Begging me to concede; to submit to its dark design. Fell spirits of Morgoth have risen up all around to torment me. I am afraid it is much worse for Un though. This is no place for the free and loving spirit of a horse.
Today I came face to face with what the Defenders of Ost Guruth name as a Shambling Wight. This is quite possibly the most hideous creature one may never hope to see in their lifetime. Hairless and bloated with slippery grey skin and a distended abdomen; Its lackadaisical jaw swinging back and forth as it struts about haphazardly without any purpose other than to devour life.
I've set up a small shelter, just big enough for myself and Un; hidden away in these ruins in an attempt to rest before I continue on my journey to Garth Agarwen tomorrow. It was folly to come to a place as dreadful as this without a fellowship. I will do my best to press on; to keep the faith, but I fear that I may not last the night.
-Duramarth IV
