Dear Diary,
Well that sounds a bit silly, doesn't it? Writing "dear diary" as if it were a letter. It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm not doing this for me.
One of the dwarves I'm traveling with suggested I keep a journal while on this trip. He said it's to keep a record in case I pass away so that my loved ones will know what had been happening in my life. He also said it's a way to channel my emotions.
So, here I am, writing a letter to a book.
Well, best get on with it, then.
I'm on my way to Erebor. Tagged along with a group of dwarves that were heading that way. After finding out that my parents and brothers are alive, I knew that I needed to see them. I love them so much and I am so happy that they survived. It's been, what, nearly 5 years now?
I'm not sure if they'll recognize me. I mean, I was just a teenager when I saw them last. They probably look the same. I probably look about the same age as my oldest brother now. It's odd to think that, in maybe 30-40 years time, I will look to be the age as my parents while they will still look the same. What a peculiar paradox. But that's what happens when someone from the race of man is raised by the dwarrow.
I have to go now. Time to start packing up camp.
May Mahal shield you,
Carlyndra
