My word, but there seems no time for anything these days. Should anyone ever speak doubtfully of the difficulty of traveling while caring for a group of 12 young boys and girls, I can now assure them from personal experience that they know nothing of what they speak. At the moment, I have only enough time to jot down in brief what our journey has been like so far, though perhaps I can go into more detail later.
Our first day and night of travel passed without incident, other than the attendant concerns of looking after so many children. I have also taken it upon myself to hold classes in Elvish, using the opportunity to learn more about our young charges. At the same time, I have gained much in the way of knowledge from our resident native speaker, for while his speech may be rough in comparison with my own, the manner of his linguistic errors suggests several interesting features I believe have never been properly considered before. Perhaps I shall have to start another journal of a more formal and academic nature, although regrettably that will have to wait for another time.
In any case, on our second day of travel we discovered that Modin, a boy of 11, had fallen ill. I do so hate to see such misfortune befall these children, and especially those who are like Modin, who had family in the Fists of Arminar and take all of this evil they’ve been forced to live through to somehow be their own fault. Happily, Lillabelle was able to quickly ascertain the nature of Modin’s illness and cure him without any difficulty.
On the third day of our travels we ran into rather more serious trouble. It began when we discovered that the trail wound its way through the bottom of a large canyon, and so we determined to stay on the lookout for any trouble that might come from above. Sure enough, it soon became evident that we were being followed, and Meg scouted ahead far enough to see that two large boulders had apparently been moved into position to drop from the top of the canyon on either side.
No sooner had she made her report, however, than we heard a large rumbling sound from further along the trail. Realizing this must be the signal for some sort of ambush, and possibly meant our advance had been blocked off, we hurriedly packed all of the children into the cart, circling it and waiting for any attack that may be coming. Indeed, we did not have long to wait. From both the front and the rear we found ourselves confronted by members of the Fists of Arminar itself.
A heated battle ensued, and at one point the Fists even attempted to make a daring escape with the cart, but we managed to fend them off. I shan’t go into my accustomed level of detail here, but suffice it to say that we all acquitted ourselves well, and triumphed though our adversaries fought with determination to the very last man. And now I’m being called away again, as I knew I would be. If only I had more time…