Day One: On Helms Deep wall. Cold, horrible stone. Bad for complexion. Hair frizing. Not fun. Need out.

Day Two: Still not having fun. Looking like I have a perm. Zit on bridge of nose. Bored. Hungery. Tierd.

Day Three: Need…to…kill…SOMETHING

Day Four: Yes! Torches are in the distance! Time to kill something! I’m so happy!

Day Five: No longer happy. These are Uruks, not Orcs. Harder armer, harder to kill. Dang. Shall I kill Gimli if I can’t kill them? Might have to get Gimli a casket insted of a box.

Day Six: Uruks right up against wall. Weak in the necks and in arm pit. I’ll aim for neck. Greasy arm pit may swallow arrow.

Say Seven: The Uruks are literaly stomping their feet and yelling “WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU!” If they repaeat the song one more time I might kill myslef.

Say Eight: Uruks finished their 1, 649 round of idiotic song. Finished up by saying “We are the champions of the world.”

This is getting no where…

I’ll shall write when the world becomes interesting!