The barren rumpled plains I walked were called northern Khand, or perhaps Rhun's utmost south; but I knew nothing of them beyond that, and even that I didn't know for certain. The rolling hills turned from waving green and flower-specked to brown, the seeds scattered into air on feathery wings, and the sun began to angle north, as I did myself. Now, I will not say that I lack navigational ability - for always my mind's compass had led me sure in my home country - but no matter how I tried to alter my path more Mirkwood-ward I found myself ever turning east, and so passed out of any kind of familiar land towards the edge of the world.
I know what my readers will be thinking now: first, that the world is round, so how might I find its margin? or second, that the edge of the world lies west, across the sea in Valinor, or north beyond the Cape of Forochel, or third, that the world is encircled by an ocean, so the only way I might reach its end is by boat. Yet I would respond, hast thou any knowledge of the East? Has anyone? For I have never heard any trustworthy accounts of it that move beyond the Rhun, and I had passed out of that months hence. I will grant that a range of mountains, the Orocarni, was said to lie there in the Second Age, but I never encountered them, and I trust my own experience better than some long-dead poet's.
The grasses dried and withered and the weather went chill. Occasionally tiny snowflakes like clumps of sugar swirled down from the heavens, but they never coated the ground with more than a superficial lacquer; nothing hindered my footsteps, snow nor rain nor flora - and there were no fauna at all, save one bird - an eagle perhaps - that I saw one morning flying miles above as the sun rose over the curve of the world, a tiny speck moving across the grey-blue sky - nothing else. Though empty, however, these places were fair and pleasant enough walking - and of course after Mordor it might have been the Withered Heath I traversed and still would I have named it Paradise.