Yes! Less than one hundred miles to go for Rivendell, and I may even take up the Walk to Lorien. I've been bogged down with a nasty cold today, though, so I doubt that I'll be getting any miles done.
Camping in the Trollshaws has paid off, as Strider has informed us that we are less than one hundred miles from Rivendell. Even though we are greatly heartened by that news, we are still troubled by Frodo's steadily worsening. Yesterday he seemed to have slipped into a black cloud. Strider presses us on, hurrying us. We are exhausted every night, and must start early every morning. I will be so glad when we get to Rivendell and receive a well-deserved rest!
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"There's a big...machine in the sky...some kind of electric snake...coming straight at us."
"Shoot it," said my attorney.
"Not yet...I want to study its habits."
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