Nov 4: Climbing (TA 3019 Emyn Muil)

The paths go nowhere—at least nowhere that we need to go. So we climb, one foot in front of another, making a new path over ledge and ridge and precipice. Up and up, then down, first east, then south, then east again. Sam thinks it's the scent from the Dead Marshes I'm following.

I don't have the heart to tell him that it's the Ring that pulls me in the direction we need to go. Perhaps it thinks it's coming closer to home, and so is “helpful”.

Another ridge before us. And so we climb once more—to Mordor.