Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, thank goodness. As I said, I'd be rolling in my grave.

Now! My pet Balrog has something to say!

B: RAAGGHH!!!

CS: Good Balroggy

B: RAAGGHH!!!!!!!!

CS: Yes, ok! Enough! almost gets hand bitten off BAD BALROGGY! BAD! OUTSIDE BALROGGY! OUTSIDE!

I have always hated running. And for the past three days, what have I been doing?

Running.

Running.

Running.

Running.

Oh, and did I forget to mention? More running! Walking is fine by me, but running for three days is simply torture. Oh, and riding and walking. But mostly running.

And when we sort of came to a halt after we had crossed something Aragorn muttered to be the 'Borderline', we had large pointy things aimed at us. Again. You know, Aragorn is doing a fantastic job of making sure we don't get killed.

We can across a horde of men on horses with long hair as most of the people in Middle Earth. At first they surrounded us and pointed their spears at us and then one, who introduced himself as Éomer, asked us what we were doing in the lands we were in, which seemed to be called Rohan. Walking. What does it look like? But of course, I didn't say that.

Being sarcastic to men with pointy things aimed at you isn't exactly the best of things to be I reasoned with myself at the time.

While I was reasoning with myself, Gimli insulted Éomer somehow, and then Éomer threatened to chop Gimli's head off, then Legolas pointed an arrow at Éomer. I wasn't really listening at the time, but Aragorn told me that was what happened later, well something along those lines, except in much more excessive, floral language.

For some reason, we were given horses. Aragorn was given a dapple horse, while Legolas and Gimli shared a brown horse with a black mane, whereas I got a white mare.

For some unknown reason (I suppose the fact that I was slightly scared of horses and mine was particularly rebellious. A fine elf I make, I really connect with nature, ya know? It was bolting in any which way direction, bucking occasionally, so guess what happened to me?

I fell off. Sort of.

I grabbed onto the horse's mane and yanked it, sliding off onto the dirt. I still bear bruises from the experience.

Believe me. It hurts. Evil horsie. The evil horsie was set free. I ended up riding on the back of Aragorn's horse.

While this was happening, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn however, looked as though they were having the time of their lives watching me throughout the entire ordeal, not lending a helping hand at all. Needless to say, I found the whole experience traumatizing and didn't speak until we stopped, whereas they found it thoroughly entertaining and wouldn't shut up about it until we stopped

At first, stopping didn't seem to be the ideal thing, looking at what lay ahead. There was anguish.

Black, charred carcasses had been piled next to a forest. A few heads on spears surrounded the pile, like marshmallows to a camp fire, but not as nice to eat, I'd imagine. But then again, I don't like marshmallows either. They'd always been a little… floury and… sticky for my taste.

The air was tainted with death, despair and struggle.

Aragorn fell to his knees in despair. Legolas and Gimli were simply standing, staring at the carcasses, trying to find a familiar face. But not face was found.

All seemed lost until Aragorn suddenly ceased his leaking (interpret at will) and stared with wide eyes at the ground. At first, I thought he had gone insane like Boromir, but then he told us he had discovered hobbit tracks.

Hobbit tracks

Hobbit tracks

Hobbit tracks

Hobbit tracks

Hobbit tracks

Hehe. It sounds funny.

So off into the forest Fanghorn we go, bravely hiding behind Legolas I was. Then I heard a whispering… It was in sort of a strange language. Legolas said that the trees were talking to each other, saying that a white wizard is here, in the Fanghorn. I was dead scared by then and had to be sort of shoved by Gimli forward when I wouldn't budge.

Gimli spotted something on a bush, and tasted it, which isn't the smartest thing, as it could've been poisonous. "Orc blood," he proclaimed. We all made faces. Orc blood tastes disgusting, believe me. When you fight Orcs, and you slash at them, some of their blood flies into the air and it unfortunately tends to hit you, splattering on your person. It's usually worse if you've got your mouth open as I discovered. It tastes like a concoction made with dirty socks, saturated coffee, your brother's rugby sneakers and anything and everything else that generally tastes disgusting. It's worse for elves apparently, because our senses are so much more sharp then other organisms. Organisms… That's a word I haven't heard since I came into Middle Earth…

I never said how I came into Middle Earth, did I?

Well, better late then never I suppose. I was just in science class with my friends, passing notes etcetera. And we were conducting a science experiment.

Of course, not being able to choose our groups, as teachers often like to have that power themselves and feel important, I was put with two of the ditz headed girls in my class. They were forever going on about their make up and whatever their fluff of a brain were thinking about (which probably wasn't much).

It wasn't bad really.

They just ignored us, but that day, one of them put a certain chemical into our mixture.

Then I felt myself falling and then impact on a certain leafy ground.

That is the wonderful story of the hero, Willow Robinson who is homesick.

I just realized something. Mary-Sue looks quite similar to one of those girls… Concidence? Probably not. All air heads look like that.

And then we came upon the white wizard. I, still hiding behind Legolas, was elbows in the stomach when he drew an arrow and fired at the wizard, who promptly vaporized it, made Aragorn's sword turn red hot and Gimli's axe break.

When the light cleared, I saw a familiar face. "Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, amazed.

A strange emotion passed over the old wizened face, as though a distant memory had just been recollected.

"Gandalf the Grey," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, that was my name once. But now, I am Gandalf the White."

Then he told us the story of how he fell into the darkness with the Balrog, and fought upon a cliff, to meet his and the Balrog's doom. He was sent back to finish the job that Saruman should have done. And now, there he was, in front of us.

He had returned from the dead. It was a frightening thought. I felt inclined to poke the wizard, just to check he wasn't a ghost, so I did.

"Might I enquire to what is it you are doing?" was the question asked to me as I climbed up towards the wizard.

"Checking," I responded.

Then I poked him in the arm.

Yet again, the looks. The looks! People in Middle Earth are very good at giving 'looks'. And then I ask the question 'What?' for the millionth time, and for the millionth time, they just look away. Not very sociable sometimes these people. Things. Its. Uhhh...

When that episode was over, we all treaded out of Fanghorn.

Gandalf scanned the area, then whistled a long piercing whistle. It held a sort of strange monotonic melody that was neither pleasant nor evil to my ears, but I daresay, very loud.

Then there was a shock. A girl with streaming black hair and perfect green eyes and pale white skin came riding on another scary horse. A white horse. I quickly hid behind Aragorn. I don't like horses. Especially white ones.

When she came into better view, she looked almost the same as the Mary-Sue, but wore black instead of pink. Her black top flashed to the world quite a bit of cleavage and bared the words 'Da BEOTCH'. She introduced herself as 'Martha Fokker'.

Ha-ha. Funny name. But I tell you what, she definitely is one Mother Fucker. She said to me, "lok, beotch, I dnt car wateva u haf 2 sae, cuz I men, lyk, im goffik."

So now, there's M-S and M-F. The dynamic duo.

My first thought when I saw her coming was 'Oh god, here comes another one.'

And believe me when I say, she's just as bad.

Honestly, I swore we had gotten rid of the other one for good, but then comes another one.

I suggested to simply locking this one up in a cage and leaving her there to Gimli. He didn't seem so keen on doing so, telling me off, saying that it's 'Not a very nice thing to do.' And said something else that implied I was a cruel little girl. I am not a little girl! I am almost a grown up! I suppose. Not in maturity though. Definitely not in maturity.

I wonder how old Gimli is… No… wait… I wonder how old GANDALF is. I suppose the answer would be… old.

But then again, someone can be young and be intelligent and mature. Like Merlin was. Or maybe I just read too much.

So we set off to Rohan. I rode once more with Aragorn, giving the white horse looks, just in case it tried something. I swear that white horses have it in for me.

When we arrived at the place, I felt tired and sore all over, with a particularly sore bum. Aragorn climbed off the horse at one stage, and ignoring my begging to get on the horse, he picked up a flag and led the horse through the gates.

Next we climbed a lot of stone stairs. I felt slightly delirious. There's only so much one's body can handle, especially after giving up sports when I turned 15.

So we came to the top of the stairs. The lovely fellow at the top took our weapons away. It was a bit of relief, considering the 'light' sword was starting to get a bit heavy, but surprisingly, the clothing I wore felt heavier.

To my delight, Martha Fokker had a tricky time getting up the stairs due to her heavy Ug boots. Then when she refused to take them off at the top, as the guard saw them as a potential weapon, so she had to stand outside.

The castle of Rohan consisted of one large hall, a side hall and several other smaller rooms.

The walls were decorated with candles and furs. At the opposite end of the hall, there was a pale aging man covered in furs.

He was supposedly the King of Rohan. An evil sickly little man stood on his right, whispering in his ear. He seemed shocked to see Gandalf.

"You are not welcome here," the old man croaked.

I'm not quite sure what happened next, but suddenly, after some discussion between Gandalf and the King, whose name is 'Théoden', some guards started attacking us.

I sort of sidled off to the side but was grabbed by a guard.

"Oh no you don't lassie," was what he said.

I promptly ground my heel into his foot and as he hopped on the spot in pain, I showed him my finger and then kicked him in the nuts.

I'm not too good at unarmed combat, so I fell over and sort of stayed there until the fighting was over.

Gandalf performed some spectacular magic on King Théoden who said "Rule of Rohan is MINE." No really? I never would've guessed. You know, I think he has a personality disorder.

But then, his hair slowly turned to gold and the air around him seemed to grow much less dark. Then he turned on Grima, the worm, who had been whispering in his ear.

He called for his sword and kicked the pale man out of the palace and then raised his sword to smite the blighter, but was stopped by Aragorn. Lucky bastard. Théoden let Grima go on the condition he'd never return. I wouldn't want to either, if I were him.

It was all quite entertaining watching this, as Martha Fokker started arguing with Aragorn, wanting him to kill Grima. Also, I never got around to watching the second and third movies, or reading the books… My attention span isn't that long.

So then my attention turned to a blonde maiden whom had been addressed earlier as the sister of Éomer. I think Grima had a thing for her, but it didn't look like he got laid. I don't blame her for not doing it though. He sure needs a shower. Wormtongue smelt funny too. Like rotting squid. Simply delightful.

Today was the first time in ages I had a warm bath or any sort of clean, excepting when I fell into the water when I looked over the edge of the canoe when we were leaving Lótherien. But there was actually soap. Well, technically, it's pig fat, but I'm not complaining. I was clean for the first time in days. But it took a while to get into the bath, as Martha got first dibs, considering Éowyn wanted to have a little chat with me and Martha shoved me aside.

I smell clean as well. It's amazing.

Well, time to get ready for dinner. What a feast it will be! I wonder if Aragorn will let me drink beer. I was planning on having a competition with Pippin and Merry... But I suppose Pippin will win. Again. And then Aragorn will get angry at us. Again. Oh well...

Fare thee well diary,

Willow Robinson

Maybe I'll give cheese next time. But only to the reviewers and the people who aren't lactose intolerant. To those people, I'll give something else… Like pasties.

Cryptic Sarcasm