[Nurumaiel]

18 miles, in the Green Hill Country
We reached the Green Hill Country tonight, and speaking for myself, my legs were aching and I was quite willing to stop there. We had none of the scrumptious cinnamon bread that I had packed when we set out left, for we ate it all yesterday (the whole loaf!). That was a disappointment, for after the four miles we trekked yesterday, that cinnamon bread (homemade, of course) refreshed me greatly.

We passed over a bridge just a few miles before we reached the Green Hill Country. Though the snow was still crowding above most of the stream, forming a tunnel, there were gaps here and there about the bridge, and I paused for a moment to gaze into the water. It was running with gentle ripples, for it was a roaring stream of rapids, but rather a slow, meandering stream, quite content to mind its own business as long as we minded ours. Though its generally straight and level path made it so easy and slow, it was a little bit of a sorrow to have none of those delightful waterfalls slipping down the mossy rocks. The trees leaned over the water, forming a sort of bower, though their tops did not meet in the middle, and so the sun, or rather what was left of it as evening drew near, streamed through.

The last few hundred yards were particularly strenuous, as I had already been rather worn out, and going steeply uphill was not gratifying to my state. I don't know exactly what time it is, nor how far we're to travel tomorrow, but I do know this... I'm going to procure some of that comforting cinnamon bread as soon as we reach Crickhollow.