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Journal of Duindural
Halladoiel Lindentree
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Day 12 of March:
The ominous shadows crawl forth, closer every day to touching our city. My people fear a dreadful darkness emerging from the northeastern mountains that border a land we dare not speak. The air outside is unable to breath. Smoke and dust whirl constantly and your feel of direction is lost. A deep dread has settled in our hearts and we are forced to stay in our houses and wait for the danger to pass. The darkness of this chill and damp room has taken my senses away.
Food is dangerously scarce. We have one meal a day in the noon and even that is not balancing. Water is scarce also and our fountain in the city centre flows red with the blood of our enemies.

Day 14 of March:
I walked in our woods today. As I rounded the North Bend I found that the streams once glittering with purity are now filthy and toxic. Those who dare to drink it shall suffer and casually perish. Dead leaves and broken branches cracked beneath my feet. The thriving plants are shriveled for the breath of our Enemy has poisoned the soil. A sudden gust of blinding wind forced me to retreat. Before I left I had a look at our city, pale and gray, slowly crumbling.

Day 15 of March:
It rained hard last night. Through the black clouds a winged creature was seen circling us. We know them as the Winged Riders. Their fell voices have cursed us and they threaten the destruction of our sturdy walls. Gondor fears war.

Day 21 of March:
The first battle has already occurred. We watched helplessly from our borders as Orcs took down an army of men. Thousands of bloodstained spears slashed back and forth. Survival was almost hopeless. Nine Riders swept down and grabbed their prey. Those who survived are in critical condition and would more than likely not survive through the night. We are not going to be ignored for long for rumor says that we shall battle soon. The people are restless and everyone is afraid.

Day 24 of March:
A sudden stroke of blackness has covered the sky. We have not seen the Sun for several weeks for it has been blotted out. You are not able to tell night from day anymore. Many people have moved from the city in the past days. A sickness is spreading amongst us.

Day 30 of March:
Our children have been evacuated to a distant city. Everyone remaining is going to battle. We have swords, shields, arrows, mail, and horses to help us. I am assigned to walk in the third rank. In two days we will depart and head north. This is my last entry until my time comes. I wish that after the battle the beauty shall return to our city. My home.

Day 8 of April:
All hope has been lost. We trudged for three days straight until we were taken by surprise by the enemy. They doubled us in size and we retreated on the first battle. Two days later we attacked and managed to take down many of their warriors. But we have gained nothing good. My family has perished beneath the bodies of our dead foes. On our march home the sickness killed a hundred survivors. My left hand is crushed and I am unable to use it. My head is weary and light and I cannot walk sometimes. I fear that I will not last through these days but before I depart I shall pray that the city will be repaired someday. I hope the war will not end our life forever just as it did mine.

- Duindural of Gondor -

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