At least the Easterlings are gone--this I keep reminding myself in all the black moments of these past hours. An infuriating waste of time, making our way east, and in the morning, I found the Easterlings had deserted us. Good riddance. Yes, our numbers were fewer, but what is that? Without the Eye, we are aimless, and the orcs do little but quarrel with each other and kill what few rabbits we find in the wastes. When we reached Thaurband for supplies, I let them disperse to find whatever debauchery might suit them, and I may have done so too if not for a leprous orc's mutterings about a strange woman who'd taken a ship across the Nurnen. I was right! It was the greygirlbeast, I am certain, and I will have her! I must--all have heard how she slaughtered orcish ranks in Ered Mithrin, driving them into the Grey Mountains and to their doom in the choked passes--thus earning her accursed name. Sindaseldeonna she is called by her foul Elf cohorts. She is not only of the enemy, she is the Enemy, one of the promiscuous faces. So I pore over each detail in my brain now as the decrepit, half-blind goblin I hired sits almost motionless on the ship's bow, ordering his two man crew with barely a twitch of a claw, here and there. What strange denizens of this erred world. Is it all for madness now? No! I am on the trail of an Enemy commander. That's irrefutable. And Rohan be damned.
A pot of coffee, five cups of coffee at a restaurant, an espresso ice cream truffle, and a cup of whole leaf Earl Grey tea, and the tightness in my head suggests to me I may just have had slightly too much caffeine to-day . . . I managed to finish colouring six pages last night, though.