Journal, 236th Entry: Esteldín, Harvest Festival

Dear Mother and Father, We have found enough gold for the moment and have moved south from Othrikar. To our surprise we stumbled into a secret encampment of men in the hills a day or two south of Othrikar. Though at first the inhabitants were surly and ready to kill us at a moments notice, when they heard our story and found we were friends of the Othrikan dwarves, they relented and while they never actually became friendly, they tolerated our presence. They call themselves Dunedain, Rangers of the North and have been gathered by their leader Halbarad for reasons unknown as of yet, though rumours abound. The hidden fortress is named Esteldín, which is Sindarin and means Hidden Hope. It surely is well-hidden in these inhospitable hills! To the east are rolling grasslands. Orcs have taken over many of the farms dotted over the plains and either killed or driven away the occupants. The rangers are too few to help much and grudgingly take on new recruits. We have been asked to help a Farmer Gatson who lives a little to the east of Esteldín and who has so far managed to repel any orc attacks. We arrived just in time, as a wave of orcs rushed at a farmhand tending some cattle. They hadn't expected us and we easily dispatched them. The farmhand could not thank us enough and brought us personally to Farmer Gatson. The farmer was grateful for our help in protecting his livestock and gave us some new clothes and coin for our time. I felt rather like a mercenary! Rua felt we had been in the North Downs for long enough so we turned our noses towards the Shire. On the way we went through Bree, where the Harvest Festival was being held. Rua found a couple of dwarves and a huge ale barrel so I didn't see him for the next twenty hours. That was alright, I can take care of myself. I had fun racing Marshmallow against some of the Breeland ponies. We didn't win very often, but it was great fun. There was also a pie eating contest which I did win! I am now the proud owner of the official title Pie-Eating Champion! These Bree folks have no hope competing against a hobbit. I heard someone mutter that they should ban hobbits from eating competitions because there were never enough pies for the rest of the contestants! Feeling very pleased with myself, I fell asleep in a pumpkin patch. Next thing I knew, there was a lady standing over me, saying I ought to learn to dance, so I obliged her. It was tough work as my tummy was still rather full of pie, but I managed to learn two new Breeland dances. We stayed three whole days at the Festival, then headed for home. Your loving Zara