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Starlock 121

Call me Starlock. Most do. I am a man of no great import or skill, and I cannot say why the king of the silvan elves named me as his emissary. I travel with others, a Dúnedain, an elf, and a dwarf. They are well-trained and knowledgeable, and I will rely on them to see me through the difficult paths to come. I cannot say how much I will write in this journal, but it is my good hope to chronicle my adventures through this middle earth. Should I fall to the shadow before the end, perhaps someone else will take heart from these missives and set himself a task worthy of song.


Aug 30, 2021 Starlock 121

The Hills of Emyn Muil

Next morning, two riders came to Rhosgobel. One was a Dúnedain by the name of Beravor, the other was a woman of the horse lords from the east, Éowyn. I know not why the two traveled together, but they brought news from King Thranduil out of Mirkwood. The king was calling his son back to him, for Legolas’ presence was needed in the elven kingdom. Legolas soon rode out with Gimli in tow, for the pair had become fast friends. Strider, at the leaving of our two companions, asked Beravor and Éowyn to accompany us on our continued search for Gollum. They agreed once the ranger explained the urgency of the mission. We left, following the trail we had identified before journeying to Rhosgobel. A fortnight passed, and we eventually arrived at the falls of Rauros. It was there that we found our first sign of the gangly creature, which led us to Emyn Muil. North and east we traveled to Amon Lhaw, also called the Hill of Hearing for, as Strider told us, it once boasted a seat that granted unusual powers of hearing. I heard little that day and saw even less. Gollum was nowhere to be seen, so we traveled west to Amon Hen at the southern end of Nen Hithoel. Now, upon that hill, the Dúnedain of the South once built another seat from which they could survey the South-kingdom and the lands that bordered it. It was a truly staggering sight and one that I will not soon forget. We then traveled to the place Beravor called the outer ridge. I know not why. But there we found our first sign of Gollum. It was not much, a small print in a pool of mud, but it was enough to lead us to the highlands of Emyn Muil. Through that place, we took a long, circuitous route until we once more arrived at the shores of Nen Hithoel. It was there that we had to admit the truth to ourselves: the trail of Gollum had grown cold. Éowyn lamented our ill-luck, speaking in the strange accent of her people. Beravor laughed, but not in a way that indicated amusement. Strider shook his head and said that there was only one place left to look, a dread place, the Dead Marshes.