I have reached where the Anduin runs through Emyn Muil, I can hear Rauros thundering in the distance. I rest on the western shore, torn, unsure of where to go.
Looking out across the waters towards Emyn Muil, I feel a strong tug. But even as I walk westward, towards trees that provide shelter (as it has begun to rain), I feel that I should go this way.
The only way to explain this is that for some unknown reason, the Fellowship has separated. But for what reason?
I think I know, now. I have just stumbled upon the bodiesof orcs. They lie all around, some with arrows, some with gashes and stabs.
I remember the sun rising red this morning, an omen that blood has been spilt, but these bodies smell so horribly, they must be days old. Whatever blood was spilt during the night, it has nothing to do with these orcs.
I count at least 30, so that is good. If nine travellers could kill over 30 orcs, ones as unusually large as these, then it is likely that they are all safe. But split apart? To go seperate ways? Who knows. That man, Boromir, he is from Gondor. Perhaps he left the Fellowship to return home, and perhaps someone accompanied him, while the rest of the company continued east. It is a mystery, most likely one that will remain unanswered.
I now put down my pen, the ground begins to slope upwards, and I wish to investigate what may be up there, and perhaps get a view of the surrounding land.