Found:
A renewed sense of derision and scorn.
So, here I am back in the last place I ever thought I'd be. Well, second to last, if I'm honest. Rohan. The Sun Lands. Home of the Horselords. Realm of the Eorl the Somewhat Equine Obsessed and origin of the ever-fashionable beard braid, at least amongst Men. Woo. I would try harder not to weep with excitement but my bitter hatred for my "homeland" keeps any tears safely at bay.
It's pretty, I'll give it that. It's just a shame about the people.
It's also quite a bit more active than I recall. The Dunlanders have set up some quite impressive villages in Isingdale. This has apparently incurred the angry huffs of their blonde and beardy counterparts who I had a little trouble bypassing in their hastily erected camp of pointy sticks.
Perhaps, if I actually survive my goal, I'll come back with an army of mercenaries bought with my spoils, kick both factions out of this valley and claim it for my own. Silverdale! It has a nice ring to it...
No, no, that would still put me too close to the past. Gah! Bedamnable Eorlings. I have traveled all of the known world and still I am unable to escape their smug superiority.
I came to the pass late last night. Something has happened here, and recently. The stench of death was heavy, cloying, oppressive but no sounds of the dying or wounded reached my ears. A skirmish? A large battle? It was hard to tell in the dim light and rather than stay, as I had initially intended, I decided it best to move on without closer inspection. Luckily, the ford here is easy to negotiate and I only stepped in guts or rotting face once or twice. It's not like I'm unused to such things, but I generally prefer my corpses to be a bit older and a little less likely to explode from trapped gas.
Given the circumstances, it now seemed imprudent to wait around for sunrise and scout the canyon ahead before passing through. We pressed on, my horse and I, between the looming rock walls in the dead of night without so much as a lantern to guide our passage. Foolhardy maybe, but far less likely to see me killed than trying to explain to the bullheaded inhabitants of Rohan that yes, I have dark skin. Yes, I can speak their tongue. Yes, I was walking into their land unannounced in a time of war whilst not being blonde or pale. No, I am not some manner of spy.
We got through. Of course we did. We have been in worse places and worse situations, my steed and I.
I made camp in the woods, far to the north of Helms Deep. If I remain on course and unmolested, I should make it to Edoras within the week and be at my destination only days later.
Now my excitement begins to mount.
