Rivendell... Imladris, these Elven folk call it. It matters not what the name of the place is, it will always remain one of the famed havens of the Elves.
It's ironic how polite people will become when they desire small comforts. I watched two of the Rohirrim in the company act very comfortable around our Elven guide. That seemed rather strange to me, as all the men of Rohan I have met, besides them, have spoken of the Elves with a burning hatred, close to how they speak of the Men of Dunland. I can't find a reasonable explanation for their behavior other than they wished for some small comforts that the Elves could provide.
It's been a few days since we left Bree, and I can't stop thoughts wandering, unbidden, into my mind. I worry too much... Cat can take care of herself, and Mina too. It just feels like I should be back with them. This small sketching I made of them doesn't seem to bring me as much solace from the homesickness as I hoped it would. Nor do the letters I write to them, tucked away in the other pages of this journal, unable to be mailed while we ride... It doesn't matter. I have a duty to perform, and that is exactly what I will do.
I simply hope that I am not swallowed up in the cold winds I can feel coming down the mountains. The feeling of imminent danger seems to ride upon the wind... I know I will go up those mountains, but... I'm not sure that I will come down.
