4 Sulimé of the Year 3019 of the Third Age
According to the Steward's Reckoning
It has come to it. I have survived the battle, though only one of my brothers has. My sister's husband is dead. Though he met his end nobly, it was for the better. Better than her to watch him killed right in front of her eyes. Better than he knowing that she would die like a dog at the hands of these monsters. They are merciless, our enemy, and now they stand at the door, breaking in.
I am tired. Tired of blood, and the feel of armor collapsing beneath my blade. I am weary of the stench of flesh and the labored breathing of the dying. I wish to be gone from here and follow my brother Clannae to the halls of our fathers.
We have barricaded ourselves within the Hornburg. They have taken over the rest of the fortress. Word has been sent to the women and children, to flee into the mountains, perhaps to escape our fate.
Dawn has come, and its rays somehow and slide through all the blood and terror of this night to reach our drained bodies. Yet I will find no hope. Hope has flown with the stars, though I could not see any.
We are doomed, and I am in despair. It seems as though this maybe my last entry. May I write soon again, when I leave this world. May I die bravely.
Farewell, may the sun keep you within its grasp, Penath son of Penar of the Rohirrim
It has come to it. I have survived the battle, though only one of my brothers has. My sister's husband is dead. Though he met his end nobly, it was for the better. Better than her to watch him killed right in front of her eyes. Better than he knowing that she would die like a dog at the hands of these monsters. They are merciless, our enemy, and now they stand at the door, breaking in.
I am tired. Tired of blood, and the feel of armor collapsing beneath my blade. I am weary of the stench of flesh and the labored breathing of the dying. I wish to be gone from here and follow my brother Clannae to the halls of our fathers.
We have barricaded ourselves within the Hornburg. They have taken over the rest of the fortress. Word has been sent to the women and children, to flee into the mountains, perhaps to escape our fate.
Dawn has come, and its rays somehow and slide through all the blood and terror of this night to reach our drained bodies. Yet I will find no hope. Hope has flown with the stars, though I could not see any.
We are doomed, and I am in despair. It seems as though this maybe my last entry. May I write soon again, when I leave this world. May I die bravely.
Farewell, may the sun keep you within its grasp, Penath son of Penar of the Rohirrim