9th of Nénimë, Calendar of Númenor.
I find myself within the company of kinsfolk more and more of late. They're a levity to the chills of winter though with company brings fouler news. Sightings amongst the north moors of the shire have out interest, wolves of greater breeding have caused the death of more than a couple of the shirefolk and spread fearful rumour across the hills. Two of our folk had been sent to the tower of Ost Lagorath several days past and had yet to send word.
Cellinbor, one of many I had not met until late, had fallen to worry on their safety and readied to lead a party into the region in search. Much like his nature the idea was headstrong, but the idea was not without warranty. Several of us ventured forth. Anarlosse, Enniliel, Glorsirel, Elisende and Calemben joining the two of us. We later met Aranarion who joined our company by happy coincidence. Our company was mostly of younger folk, better learned at books and theoretical combat than I had expected. None lacked heart though several held poorly concealed fear within their eye.
Our kinsfolk had been held hostage by the towers new inhabitants. Ruffians from the south with seemingly little purpose, though no doubt more will come of their presence.
