The tracks have led us all through Eriador up to the northern city of Bree, a place filled with filth and dishonest men. The threats up here come mainly from bandits, the roads are not safe, orcs and worse. Much worse I am afraid. We have seen lots of misery along the way, particularly passing through the lands of the fallen Dunlendings whom we belive have some dealings with the orcs. Isenrid is telling me the orc tracks are not entirely fresh but they are there. He is pussled because it looks like the orcs came from the south and went north but we all know he is mistaken and he agrees himself. They come from up here, the opposite would mean they came from Rohan and we both understand that is not the case. They are disguising their tracks somehow, for reasons we do not understand. We have not located them in the flesh yet but are certain to do so within short.
Yesterday a ranger that goes by the name Strider, one of the few honest men you find up here, asked us for help regarding some grave danger. Hoping to prove our friendship, and gaining valuable information about the orcs in return, we set out to help him find a kinsman named Amdir or something similar. Well, I do not know how to put it, but Beothata listened around in Bree and Isenrid followed the leads Beothata found. We found him, this Amdir fellow, allright. But we found something more! Black riders! Five of them! Maybe some of those that crossed River Isen not long ago. We do not know and we do not even want to speculate. Fortunately for us they withdrew when we came upon them in an old ruin from the days of Arnor. They bewitched and left this Amdir on some altar and when we thought he was lost he came alive again and attacked us with the strength of ten men! We defeated him, but just barely and only thanks to Thraindir's leadership and Gundred's outmost bravery. Fridgrim almost lost his head in his eagerness to prove himself worthy your trust and I barely managed to protect him. Strider was deeply saddened by the loss of his friend but fullfilled his promise to tell us all he knew about the orcs. We are soon heading east, to Whethertop, where they dwell in numbers. We will find out who is behind all this and put their heads on stakes. That is a fitting end for enemies of The Mark.
Where the Black Riders are now I cannot say, and I hope we will not meet them again. They struck fear into me that I have never felt before and I thought my blood was turning to ice. I am not even ashamed of it, they are not of this world. Clearly they must be connected to the orcs somehow. And thus the Nameless One himself. Allthough that does litte to explain the White hand. His minions do always wear the Eye, dont they? Maybe this is just some foul plot by the Lord of Mordor to keep us in the dark.
Of Gandalf Greyhame we have seen and heard little. We will keep looking allthough I still dont see what good he could bring us father. Riverfoam and the other mearas are fine. Just wanted to let you know. I will write again soon.
Your loyal blood,