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It was a good day
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I have been in Ithilien too long.

My first words in this nights report are, A good day.

None of my men died this day.

Losses have grown grim, friend piled on friend.
The dead march with me, rank upon rank.

I now dread Minas Tirith homecomings: wives and children surrounding us when we enter, seeking husbands, fathers. Not always finding them among my company, where once they stood.

Tonight, no letters to distant kin, telling of a lost brother or son. No bundles to return without owners. No empty places at our fire.

It was a good day.


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