After a week of scuttling around in caverns and cave's, I can count myself, with good conscience, an expert on life underground. And I can quite happily state, that it is a BORE! There is no sun or flowers, or green grass to tickle your feet!
I don't understand dwarves, methinks!
Merewan has continued on with her stubborn silence on the Muted Orcs, and has not deigned to explain to us how the orcs have been changing, nor why. She holds out on her excuse that Olorin will explain all when he returns. I cannot help but to dislike this action. It makes me feel like a child! Isilindil feels much the same, but I think that she has had better luck with Merewan's disparaging comments than I have. Perhaps this has to do with matters of height...
I hear Isilindil calling me off in the distance. Reluctantly, I pick myself off from the ground and and make my way through the winding corridors until I glimpse the circular room that has become the meeting place.
Knowing that there will be nothing more interesting to discuss than the food rationing and potato peeling duty, I switch my brain off and give myself leave to daydream, letting my mind roam the green and golden fields of the Shire. I sigh, thinking of my Uncle Sam, enjoying himself in the sweet, warm, sunshine.
- Ruby Burrows
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