<pre style="white-space:pre-wrap; word-wrap:break-word;">

#author:Saeros
#title:Personal Journal of Saeros
#types:lindon,woodland_realm,lothlorien

Foreword By Lord Celeborn

Foreword

When Saeros first came to Doriath, he rose up the ranks at a quickened pace. At first was he easily looked up to, for he had attained the friendship of Daeron.

Saeros had but one flaw, such was his unusual brand of japes and jokes. We all knew he never meant them, for his tone was clear to us Elves. That was where the trouble started. For you see, Saeros never saw the need to make known that he never meant his insults, for as I said before and say again, his tone made it clear.

Alas, such was his undoing, for when King Thingol arranged for Turin, son of Hurin, to be fostered in his realm, it lead to the humiliation and the death of poor misunderstood Saeros.

Now I present to you the personal journal of the never serious Saeros, written after Turin struck him with a goblet yet before his ill-fatal ambush the next day.

#New Page

Here now begins the entry:

Nothing I knew of him when first I saw him. Had I known of his lack thereof self-control before the royal dinner, never would I had made the comment. I knew there was a fey look floating always upon his gaze. The gaze of one touched by the shadow, and yet the man had the audacity to strike me. Me! The great jester of Menegroth! All for one comment on the Men of Hithlum! Hmm, what should I do to get back at him? What would give a man of Turin’s status such a fright so as to run and hide behind a tree.

Maybe perhaps an ambush? Yes, that would work nicely. Oh, Turin, you had best be watching behind your behind, for I will give you such a scare that would send you running like a deer!

#Any thoughts and comments? I am open to taking any suggestions and feedback as well as giving credit when due. How was my portrayal of Lord Celeborn and Saeros? What feedback do you have?

</pre>

<pre style="white-space:pre-wrap; word-wrap:break-word;">

#author:Brandir of Brethil
#title:Personal Journal of Brandir of Brethil
#types:ruins,lindon

F.A. 467:
My fourth cousin, Hunthor, is born.

F.A. 469:
My cousin, Manthor, is born. An accident befell me. My leg is now lame.

F.A. 495:
Today was a day of grief and mourning as today was the day my father, Handir, was disgustingly slaughtered by Orcs. Why did they do it? I now stay awake at night pondering this question. No time had I to mourn, as his burden and duty was thrust upon me unwillingly.

#New Page

F.A. 495:
Today was a sad day. One ill event after another. Orcs raid my land, holding good folk captive. Alas when I had my men strike forth to free the Elves held captive, the Orcs killed their captives on sight. In memory of those senselessly slaughtered, I name the burial sight thus:Haudh-en-Elleth.

#New Page

F.A. 496:
Today, some of my men were saved from Orcs by a tall man bearing an unnatural black blade. When put to the question, he said his name was Wildman son of Wildman, though he did eventually reveal his name to be Turambar, the master of doom. From whenever I looked upon him, I knew something was off as a shadow shrouded him at times, but I tended to his wounds as I would any good and sane person.

#Thus, this is the end of the first part of the journal of Brandir. I will edit this more before it is done. I also plan to do journals for Mim as well as Niniel and maybe possibly Celegorm and Feanor.

#Any thoughts and comments? I am open to taking any suggestions and feedback as well as giving credit when due. How was my portrayal of the pacifist, Brandir of Brethil, and Turin Turambar? What feedback do you have?

</pre>

# Written by CzechSuperBrain1
#title:Blood on Amon Mithumbë
#author: Ithilion of Vinter Court
#types:dorwinion,woodland_realm,dale

Mae Govannen {name:sindarin_female} of Greenwood!
On Amon Mithumbë in Emyn Winion above the Golden Ford a betrayal happened.
We were trading with the Rhúdel that were friendly to us.
But as we sealed the trade, some of our men started attacking the Easterlings. We quickly killed most of them with our dwarven spears, but they were not men of Gwinion, but imposterous Variags of North Khand. None of our men were heavily injured, but two vinter guards, by the names of {name:dorwidhrim_male} and {name:dorwidhrim_male} with broken legs. The Rhúdel group apologised and left as soon as they could.
The variags that escaped, quickly regrouped and ran down, where two Wainrider carts were waiting on them with two carriages. One of them, by the name {name:easterling_male} yelled to them something along the lines of; "Do Trandwinovyg halł!"
We assume they meant Thranduil's halls.
So a big attack must be coming, alert the royals and tell them my words:
"Beware of dark men, brave Silvans!
Beware of shady men, wise Sindarin!
Beware of...
Khand-men my dear Taur-Quendi..."

With a heavy heart,
by your cousin Ithilion of Vinter Court, son of Glædir
on the 33rd of Iavas 1469 of The Third Age of Arda
in the Echuir Manor of Bladorthin in Mirulond

# Written by Pleasenotme

#

# Prequel to The Dwarven Merchant

#

#title:Elves and Mountains - Part I

#author:Óri, son of Póri

#types:rivendell,eriador,durins_folk,blue_mountains

#reward

#

The cold wind of the Misty Mountains bit into my face like a pack of hungry Wargs as I travelled southward to Rohan. 'Twas useless to light a fire, aye, not even the great Smaug could have stayed alight in this snowstorm.

But I am Óri, son of Póri, and I have survived what most would fear! I walked the pass despite the bitter cold, and found myself a cave! Inside I saw the body of an Orc on the cold stone ground. But not to fear, for this Orc had been frozen to death by the cold, as I would perhaps be soon.

I salvaged from the corpse a dagger and a pickaxe, forged of twisted black steel. I hung them at my belt, and lit a fire. The cave was small, but it gave me refuge from the cold. I examined the Orc's tools in the firelight. Forged by an inexperienced hand. Useless to me.

I decided to rethink my course. I'd planned to get to the Glittering Caves, but those were far from where I was.

If I exited the mountains from the East, I'd pass the Golden Wood, and the Elves there have little love for my people. 'Twas a long way South through the Misty Mountains, and I had little desire to travel from here. My only option was to travel West to Rivendell.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#

# Prequel to The Dwarven Merchant

#

#title:Elves and Mountains - Part II

#author:Óri, son of Póri

#types:rivendell,eriador,durins_folk,blue_mountains

#reward

#

I travelled West for a while, through the bleak and bitterly cold mountains, till I came to a river. I assumed this was one of the tributaries of the Bruinen, that flowed into Rivendell. My food supplies by now ran low, so I had no choice but to go to the hidden vale. I led my faithful donkey along the river, until we finally reached the pass into Imladris.

A guard noticed me, and inquired what business I had, holding an Elven sword.

Unfazed by the blade, I told him, "I shall recount my story but once, so take me to your master so that I may tell of my journey."

Impressed by my bravery, the dumbfounded Elf arranged for my donkey to be held in the stables, and escorted me through several fine passageways, until I found myself seated before the lord Elrond.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#

# Prequel to The Dwarven Merchant

#

#title:Elves and Mountains - Part III

#author:Óri, son of Póri

#types:rivendell,eriador,durins_folk,blue_mountains

#reward

#

I was seated in the house of Elrond, with a plate full of food before me. There was some sort of elven bread, roast chicken, apples, several kinds of berries, a cake, and a glass of wine.

While I ate, I told lord Elrond of my journeys, my valiant battles against Orcs and Uruks, my miraculous escapes from Warg packs, my travels through the mountains cold, the mighty blades I forged for great warriors, my axes to fell the heads of Goblins, and my faithful donkey!

He listened with a face full of awe while I recounted my adventures. After lunch, I was shown to a room they had arranged for me.

In the evening, I visited the forges of the Elves. I showed the smiths the wonders of Dwarven craft, how we craft the best steel from simple supplies, how we turn steel into a stunning blue colour, how our steel is made hard yet supple and easy to shape.

The smiths of the Elves were skilled, and knew good smithcraft when they saw it. I forged a blade for them, as a token of friendship from the Dwarves.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#

# Prequel to The Dwarven Merchant

#

#title:Elves and Mountains - Part IV

#author:Óri, son of Póri

#types:rivendell,eriador,durins_folk,blue_mountains

#reward

#

I had stayed in Rivendell for a few days, and decided I should leave in a day or two. As a parting gift, the Elves decided to teach me some of their smithcraft.

After watching them craft fine blades, I decided to craft one of my own.

I used fair Elven steel for the blade. I beat the blade into a cresent shape. I used the special blue steel of my kin in the Blue Mountains for the guard. For the handle, I used my finest leather, brown and soft, from a deer. With the help of the Elves, I enchanted the blade to glow blue when Orcs lie near.

I soon left Rivendell, with my faithful donkey by my side, after deciding to visit my kin in the Blue Mountains.

# Written by Pleasenotme
#title:In the Inn of Bree
#author: Bob Pignut
#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,bree,shire

In the inn of Bree,
Strangers from afar,
Come and talk with me,
Telling who they are.

In the inn of Bree,
Dwarves that buy the ale,
Bound in groups of three,
Tell their grandest tale.

In the inn of Bree,
Rangers always watch,
All they hear and see,
Never speaking much.

In the inn of Bree,
Ale and mead is spread.
Strangers sit with me,
Sharing drink and bread.

A small poem, comments appreciated.

Perhaps it would also be sung "In the inn of Bree" (that is, if the mod added singing.)

#author:Brûghap, from Núrn
#title:Scraps from the Pits
#type:mordor
Today I ventured out to the Grave-pit again. Many like it, but this one's mine and no-one else comes close! They can't handle the smell, but I can, and nobody else. I found nothing of worth there today. All of the slave-flesh was dead and rotting, sha! Scraps and rags only, and so it was a big waste. But I'm going tomorrow as well. See, rumor says that they caught a gang of Uruk-hai traitors. No doubt they have some shiny trinkets, and the searchers don't find everything. Now I just need to wait.

Today was the execution of the dratted snakes. Their boss, {name:orc_prefix}{name:orc_suffix}, sobbed like a tark-runt. Well, they shut him up! Ha! But if it was a bad day for him and his crew, it was a good day for me. I got some trinkets that they didn't care to remove, like {a small S-rune badge (I suppose these were the Wizard's orcs, on vacation! Ha!)/a shank-blade, with carvings and such (I doubt I'll find a use for it, but I know a fellow planning on running away. Perhaps he'll take it?)/some silver coins (The searchers shake them down for these, but they didn't catch these, and they're mine now!)} and {the shattered teeth of a tark (I suppose these boys saw action at the front.)/a raggedy beard, and a dwarf-face still attached (these fellows were from Northwest, in the Mountains!)/an elf-ear (I'll be wearing this one!)} and other such things, like a little trinket of a ring. Shiny little thing.

The first of Brûghap's journeys. I'm trying to make lore-texts that are less random, so they're more like a lot of the ones in-game (the wizard-texts, the ranger's guides) and tell a story over multiple texts, so it's fun to collect them. Iirc evil doesn't have anything like those two examples, so here I am, trying to make something like it! This also ties into the older desertion lore text, and references the grave-pits from OBTHs "Orders". Hope you all like it!

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:A Lament for Gondor

#author:Beregond of Lebennin

#types:gondor

Orcish legions march the East,

Bearing swords and spears.

On our flesh they wish to feast,

Preying on our fears.

Southron Men in robes of red,

Serve the Lidless Eye.

Cries among their ranks are said,

"Gondor's Men shall die!"

Corsairs raiding from the sea,

In fleets of ships with banners fell.

Captured, we will servants be,

For the wicked slaver's sell.

Crumbling brick and stone of white,

Men too proud of towering tall.

Gondor's Men our foes shall fight,

Swiftly shall the tower fall.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:Hooded Maggots!

#author:{name:orc_prefix}{name:orc_suffix}

#types:mordor,gundabad,angmar

Those hooded maggots! {choose:Those cowards/The cowardly worms/The filthy tarks} {choose:hide and/hide from us and} {choose:stick us with arrows/stick us with their stinkin' pointy arrows/shoot us with their stinkin' bows}! {choose:Just wait 'till we com in armies! The Big Bosses are gettin' us ready for war!/Once the Big Boss send us in armies we'll knife the maggots!/We can't stick the tarks with our knives if we can't finds them!}

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:Queer Things

#author:Rufus Longhole

#types:shire

Outside the Shire, or so I hear,

Some people lurk, quite odd and queer.

Like Dwarves and Elves, and tall, strong, Men,

And Goblins cruel, in bands of ten.

Outside the Shire, or so they tell,

Are queer things fair and queer things fell.

And Rangers in the inns of Bree,

And Elves that travel to the sea.

And mountains full of jools and gold,

For stealing by some burglar bold.

Outside the Shire, or so they tell,

Are queer things fair and queer things fell.

But smoking weed as sunset falls,

The Hobbit leans against the walls.

And thinks of what the queer ones say,

Of journeys that have come their way.

Outside the Shire, they've had their fill,

Of queer things far across the hill.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:A Halfling!

#author:{name:gondor_male}

#types:eriador

Today {choose:something quite odd happened to me/I saw something strange}. I went to get some wood from the forest, and I wandered farther than usual. And then I saw there, sitting on a rock, {choose:a halfling smoking a pipe!/a little man with a pipe!} His face was round, and his hair was curly and {choose:bright red/golden}, and he wore a {choose:yellow/green} waistcoat. As soon as he saw me, he muttered something about "{choose:outsiders/big people/queer outsiders/odd folk/second breakfast}" and hurried away!

So the old stories of Halflings are more than myths! My neighbours will not believe this!

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:Mathoms

#author:{name:hobbit_male} {name:hobbit_surname}

#types:shire,bree

To {name:hobbit_female} {name:hobbit_surname},

Hello! You told me you wanted to {choose:hear about/read about/know more about} the mathoms we have at our home! We have many, and {choose:I am proud of quite a few/many have an interesting history/I could spend all day telling you about them}!

Over the fireplace we have {choose:an elven blade, given to me by my uncle who got it from one of those Rangers in Bree/a blue-hilted Dwarven sword, which I bought for just 30 coins/a spear}, which the {name:hobbit_surname}s once stole from us! {choose:One day I noticed that it was gone/They borrowed it and never showed up to give it back}, but I went to their smial and brought it back.

In the hall on the table we have a {choose:golden/silver/bronze} smoking pipe, given to my grandpa {name:hobbit_male}, who got it from a Big Person he met while travelling to Bree. My grandpa smoked so much pipe-weed that the Big Person decided to give him a pipe as a parting gift!

We donated a {choose:large shield/huge pike} to the mathom house because we simply had no space for it! It was given to my {choose:old Gaffer/grandpa} by his {choose:uncle/friend, quite a queer fellow,} who got it from a Big Person.

I'd tell you more, but {choose:I've run out of ink!/I have to go to my neighbours for lunch./I've run out of paper!}

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:An Old Tale

#author:{name:hobbit_male} {name:hobbit_surname}

#types:shire,bree

My aunt {name:hobbit_female} told me her {choose:Gaffer/uncle/neighbour} {name:hobbit_male} was told by his friend {name:hobbit_male}'s uncle {name:hobbit_male} in Bree, who learnt it from a Dwarf, about an old story of Elves and {choose:Big People/Men} and {choose:kings of old/whatnot}.

The story goes that {choose:there was some unpleasant old king in some land called Mordur/a troublesome king of some country called Murdur, a queer name if you ask me,/Sauron of Mourdor} had been a real troublemaker, so {choose:King Elindeel of the Big People/the Big Person Elendeal} and {choose:Gilglad, King of the Elves/Gil Galad, an Elfish King} decided to attack {choose:Murdur/Mourdor/Mordur}. {choose:Durin the Dwarf Lord/Some big Dwarf Joorin/The Dwarf King Diooren} {choose:decided to help them/went and helped them}. After {choose:a long battle/some unpleasant fighting/a bit of fighting}, {choose:Sauron of Mourdor/Sawron of Murdur/the unpleasant king of Mordur} was defeated, but the kings of the Elves and Big People were killed.

Quite a queer tale if you ask me.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Troll and His Dinner

#author:{name:hobbit_female} {name:hobbit_surname}

#types:shire,bree

My old Gaffer {name:hobbit_male} once told me a tale, which he was told by his uncle {name:hobbit_male}, who learnt it from his Grandma {name:hobbit_female}, of a young Hobbit who lived across the Brandywine.

This Hobbit was a queer fellow. He always came late for tea and spoke at {choose:second breakfast/lunch/dinner} about his adventures. Such unpleasant things, they seem to me! Big Folk that have just three meals a day, and Goblins, Elves, and Dwarves, and thieves! One day the Hobbit told his friend, of a statue in a forest. A queer statue it was, {choose:big/large/tall}, and fat, and {choose:terrible/ugly}, but quite life-like! The friend said "Nay! {choose:It cannot be/It can't be true}! Show me {choose:the/that} statue, {choose:I must see it myself!/if you've seen it you say!}"

So the two Hobbits went to the village of Bree, to buy a pony and ride off to the forest. And when they reached by {choose:sunset/night/midnight} of the {choose:third/fourth/fifth} night, {choose:they found and saw the statue/there the statue stood/the statue stood there still}! And the friend said "Oh my! How can this be?" But the queer Hobbit had no time to answer, for there was a great roar, and a creature as tall and terrible as the statue came {choose:rumbling/hobbling/stumbling} through the woods! They rode their ponies, but the friend's was {choose:too slow/not fast enough/slow}, and the giant monster cooked him {choose:on a fire/in a pot/on a spit/whole}!

{choose:The monster was a troll, they say/They call this monster a Troll}, and after this adventure, the queer Hobbit decided never to do anything queer again, and never came late for tea!

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Dwarven Merchant - Part I

#author:{name:gondor_male} the Ranger

#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,gondor,blue_mountains

As a Ranger of the North, I have seen much adventure, and many peculiar things. I have seen Hobbits showing great bravery, Elves single-handedly fighting bands of Orcs, and I have seen the resilience of Dwarves. Not {choose:four months/two months/eight weeks/two moons} ago I met with a Dwarf, {name:dwarf_male}, {choose:on the outskirts of the Shire/in Michel Delving/in the Prancing Pony/on the banks of the Baranduin}. {choose:He was busy with some customers/He was polishing a well-crafted helmet/He was sharpening a short, sturdy sword/He was bargaining with a Man over a plain golden ring} when I saw him, but after a while I seated myself next to him.

"{choose:From where do you come?/What brings you to these lands?}", I asked, starting up a conversation.

"{choose:I am but a trader from the Blue Mountains/I come from the Iron Hills with shining gems and fine smithcraft to sell!} What about ye, lad?", said the Dwarf with the charisma of an experienced merchant.

"{choose:I wander the lands around here./These lands are where I have spent all my years.}"

"{choose:So you're one of those Ranger folk?/I'd wager my left arm you've had some unpleastantries with some Orcs!}"

"Indeed."

"{choose:Well then, you could use a good trusty dagger! Fine Dwarven smithcraft is hard to come by!/You'll be in need of a weapon then!} May I interest you in a deal?"

Before I could object, he produced a wide array of daggers from his bag. There were fancy daggers with hilts of gold, encrusted with glittering jewels, and there were simple daggers with comfortable leather handles. He had exotic daggers with curved blades and carved runes, and short sturdy blades with bluish steel unique to the Dwarves, and simple daggers with woven grips and iron blades. Of the innumerable daggers, one caught my eye. {choose:It was a cresent-shaped blade with a handle of soft leather, a guard of deep blue steel. The blade was made of fair steel, and had a certain quality to it that made it appeal to me./With a beautiful blue guard, a handle of smooth, brown leather, and a blade that almost seemed to glow, I couldn't help admiring it.}

Seeing that I had favoured the blade, the Dwarven merchant remarked, "Aye, that one's a special one. An experiment of mine, which I forged when I went to Rivendell to study their craft. It could be yours, for the small price of fifty silver coins!"

{choose:There was no doubt, I had to have that blade, so I paid the Merchant the coins, and finally the dagger was mine!/I showed no hesitation in paying him, eager to buy my Precious, the dagger, and so I became its Master.}

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Dwarven Merchant - Part II

#author:{name:gondor_male} the Ranger

#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,gondor,blue_mountains

{name:dwarf_male} and I talked for a while about suspicious folks we'd seen in Bree lately. Then I asked him where he would be heading next. I learned he would be going to visit his kin near Mount Dolmed, but he seemed {choose:troubled/worried/unsettled} when he spoke about going to the Blue Mountains.

"{choose:You seem troubled./Is there something wrong?/Why do you seem worried?}", I asked him.

"Aye, {choose:I've heard sayings of Orcs near the mountains./the Men here tell of an Orc pack causing trouble near the Blue Mountains./there are Orcs on the move these days, my kin tell me.} I fear the worst if I should meet them, laddie. {choose:My sword has tasted Orc blood before, but 'twas mere luck that the Orcs didn't taste mine./It wouldn't be the first time an Orc has felt the swing of my axe, but I've grown weary from travel./I've killed Orcs before, but I fear I've grown weaker than I was.}"

"{choose:I could accompany you. It wouldn't be the first time I've put myself in harm's way to protect a traveller/It is my duty to protect the people of this land. I would be pleased to accompany you./Then let me travel with you. I am swift with a bow, and quick with a dagger.}"

"Bless ya laddie, I'd be merrier to travel with a Ranger by my side!"

The Dwarf spent some time {choose:selling daggers/selling fine blades/selling shields/selling gold-trimmed armour} to {choose:passing Men/a wealthy Hobbit/a guard of Bree}, and then we set off, bound Westwards to the Mountains Blue.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Dwarven Merchant - Part III

#author:{name:gondor_male} the Ranger

#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,gondor,blue_mountains

{name:dwarf_male} and I had been travelling for {choose:a few days/some time/a week/a few hours} by the time we reached the western border of the Shire. {choose:The lands west of here are frequented by Rangers and Orcs, and are dangerous for the unprepared traveller./Now we were in lands where Orcs roamed in packs, on the run from the relentless Rangers./Rumours had been heard of Orcs in the lands west of here.} We travelled further westward for a few hours in silence. There was something about this land, like much of Eriador, that filled my heart with a heavy sadness, a longing memory of a kingdom lost to time. Now all that remains of the kingdom of Arnor is scattered groups of Rangers, fiercely guarding the lands of our old kingdom, determined not to let the memory of our glorious past be defiled.

The sun was now getting quite low, so we stopped to make camp. By nightfall, we had set up a tent and lit a fire.

"Will the Orcs not be attracted to our fire like moths to a flame, lad?", asked the Dwarven Mechant.

"Orcs prefer to stay in the shadows. And they avoid Ranger camps. They live in fear of our arrows."

{choose:We spoke about/He recounted/He told me about} {choose:his adventures in Rivendell/his time in Rivendell/the smithcraft he learnt in Rivendell}. I found it {choose:rather odd/most unusual/queer} that the Dwarf managed to befriend the Elves.

I offered to take the first watch. After a few quiet hours, I woke him, and he took watch until dawn.

{choose:After a light breakfast/A few minutes after daybreak/An hour later}, {choose:we set out to the West/we began walking westwards/we resumed our journey to the Blue Mountains}.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Dwarven Merchant - Part IV

#author:{name:gondor_male} the Ranger

#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,gondor,blue_mountains

{choose:The day began with a clear sunrise over a field of lush green./I woke to a golden glow on the horizon, across a field of thistle.} {name:dwarf_male} was still asleep. I stepped outside the tent to enjoy the morning air. The dew on the grass looked almost like snow, but without the bitter cold or concerns of food for winter.

I was walking at some distance from the camp when I noticed an odd odour. It was very faint, but I recognised the foul smell of Orc. I searched the grass for footsteps, and to my horror, I found them, though partly hidden by the layer of dew. From my experience as a Ranger, I could tell that {choose:Orcs were here not long ago, probably the previous night/there were undoubtedly Orcs nearby}.

I woke up the Dwarf Merchant and told him of {choose:the Orcs/my findings}. We decided to make haste and travel westwards at once.

We had been walking for a few hours when we decided to stop for lunch. We ate some {choose:chicken that I had hunted./ripe meat fresh off the bone!/pancakes from the Shire./cram that the Dwarf had brought from Dale.} Just as we were finishing, we heard a howl to the east. I recognised it as a Warg.

If the Orcs were riding Wargs, there would be no outrunning them. I told the Dwarf to ready his weapons, and I unslung my bow.

By now I could see the Orc pack, coming from behind a hill. There were in all five Orcs, each riding a Warg. I began to shoot them with my bow. I managed to take down three of the Wargs before they got close. I unsheathed my dagger, now glowing a brilliant blue, while the Merchant readied his battleaxe.

Let it never be said that Dwarves are not quick to strike. Before I knew it, the Dwarven Merchant had swung his battleaxe into one Warg and thrown {choose:a throwing axe/his spear/an axe} {choose:at/in between the eyes of} another. Both Wargs were quick to succumb to their wounds. The Orcs, on the other hand, were now {choose:nervous/evidently scared}. Their mounts had been killed before they could strike, and they were now face to face with a Dwarf with an axe and a Ranger with a dagger. They seemed wary of my dagger, as it resembled Elven craft. In their moment of fear, I leapt on the nearest Orc and stuck my dagger {choose:in his leg, before driving it into his skull/deep in his torso}. The Merchant swung his axe at an Orc. The Orc dodged, but he would never be able to match the strength of the Dwarf. I fired an arrow at an Orc who was running away. By now the Dwarven Merchant had injured the Orc's {choose:leg/foot/arm} and was about to deal the final blow.

I turned to the other two Orcs, who were wielding spears and approaching fast. I noticed these Orcs were taller. Bigger. Meaner. Stronger. These were Uruks, {choose:tall and strong/not some timid Orcs}, that had ended the lives of many of my kin. I shot at them, but they blocked my arrows with their shields. One of them threw a spear at the Merchant. It merely grazed his arm, but it blinded him with pain as well. I shot the Uruk between the eyes while he was distracted by his {choose:accomplishment/triumph}. He fell over, dead. I quickly threw my dagger at the other. It impaled him in the chest, but he simply kept coming. I shot {choose:arrow after arrow/several arrows} at him, each one slowing him with pain, until he had finally been vanquished.

I looked around at the bloody battlefield. Five Orcs, three Wargs, and two Uruks lay dead {choose:in pools of blood/at my feet}. The Dwarven Merchant lay nearby in {choose:pain/agony}.

# Written by Pleasenotme

#title:The Dwarven Merchant - Part V

#author:{name:gondor_male} the Ranger

#types:ruins,eregion,eriador,gondor,blue_mountains

{name:dwarf_male} was eating some {choose:cram/more pancakes/chicken/bread} while I made a healing drink for him. The Athelas plant, also known as Kingsfoil, is commonly thought of as a weed. People tend to feed it to pigs. But any Ranger knows about its healing effects. I had the Dwarf drink some Athelas brew, and also sprinkled some crushed Athelas on his wound.

After a while, the pain had almost vanished.

At this point we were quite close to the Blue Mountains. The next few days were quite uneventful. We reached Mount Dolmed, in a few days, where we said farewell. The Merchant offered me some coins as a token of his gratitude, but I declined.

And that was the last I saw of the Dwarven Merchant.

#author:{name:orc_prefix}{name:orc_suffix}, no. {num:10000,99999}
#title:Top Secret!
#type:mordor,dol_guldur
If you're reading this note and you're {name:orc_prefix}{name:orc_suffix}, then go right ahead. Else, I'll string you up by your insides! Now, you and I well know that the Captain is always mucking about. That {maggot/worm/slime/scum/slug/rat} lashes and beats us and I hate his living guts, and I know you do too! {Always cracking the lash, garn! He’s never felt it on his hide, nar!/Never splits the goods, keeps all the shiny things to himself!/Not a scrap of flesh in sight for us lads to eat. No, he keeps it to himself, sha!}
But now, see here, I have a plan. There’s a few other boys, about {num:4,8}, with me, and when I give the signal, we’ll take him unawares! Soon enough he’ll have {a knife through his throat/a sword through his belly/his head smashed on} and we’ll be {off/free/gone}!
This’ll happen very soon, you hear, so keep your {knife/shank/blade} on you! And no peaching! Elsewise, when I’m done with the Captain, I’ll be after you next!

Sort of related to OBTH's Orders Lore Text. Maybe this orc has had one order too many?

Also, for those interested/confused about the word "peaching", the orc snuffler who kills the soldier-orc from Cirith Ungol (after the whole Shagrat v.s. Gorbag thing) says it:

The other halted, and his voice was full of fear and rage. 'You cursed peaching sneakthief!' he yelled. 'You can't do your job, and you can't even stick by your own folk. Go to your filthy Shriekers, and may they freeze the flesh off you! If the enemy doesn't get them first. They've done in Number One, I've heard, and I hope it's true!'

I did a bit of research, and apparently peaching is the equivalent of snitching, so I thought it'd be good to use here.

#author:Lugbúrz High-Command
#title:Orders
#type:mordor
To: Sergeant no. {num:10000,99999}, via no. {num:10000,99999}

{choose: Spies feared near your location. Find and hold until relieved. Captain Grishnákh to collect by next light. Report all items and articles to Lugbúrz immediately. Death or damage will result in punishment, by discretion of the Captain./Your troop failed to meet last month’s quota. An inspection will be held. Prepare for Inspector’s arrival. Snaga are not to be informed. If judged unfit, you are relieved of command. If Inspector finds evidence of treason, punishment will be dealt to all members of the guard, by discretion of Inspector./Patrol perimeter until relieved. Former Sergeant no. {num:10000,99999} of guard no. {num:1,99} reported deserters from troop. If found, hold until sent for by Captain Grishnákh. Alive, light sport permitted./Patrol perimeter, double vigilance. You will be accompanied by Sergeant no. {num:10000,99999} of guard no. {1,99}. No quarreling. Any trouble to be reported to Lugbúrz on return. All involved will be punished./Slaves reported missing. Patrol to Harnurnen. Find and return them. Not to be damaged. If found dead, deliver to nearest grave-pit, notify Thorband. Guards no. {num:1,99} and {num:1,99} also searching area. Do not accost them.}

This month’s quota sent. Notify Lugbúrz if not received.

See to it that orders are carried out.

#author:{Name:dorwinion_female} of Dorwinion, Age {Num:8,12}
#title:Secret diary
#types:Dorwinion
     Dear Diary, I saw something very scary last night! I was walking home through the fields, near the {choose:Sea/chalk hills/plains/old vineyard}, when I heard voices over a {choose:big boulder/hill/hedge/cluster of trees}. I looked over, and there were these big man-creatures! They had skin the color of ash, huge teeth, yellow eyes, pointy ears like my friend Edhellos or our neighbor {Name:sindarin_male}, and huge weapons! I couldn't hear everything that they were saying, but they said they were heading back to {Choose:Mordor/Udûn/the black land} soon! 
     Are these Orcs? To tell the truth, I ran away before they could spot me. I told my parents, but they laughed me off, and the vintner guard didn't believe me either. I can't fight them because I'm just a kid, and none of the grown-ups believe they even exist. I wish there was someone out there who would come and help us fight them.