You have walked 228 miles.
You have reached a small stream coming down from the Weather Hills (228).
It is 18 miles to the next landmark.
You still have 230 miles to Rivendell.
The hills drew nearer. They made an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or passes leading into the eastern land beyond. Along the crest of the ridge the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains of green-grown walls and dikes, and in the clefts there still stood the ruins of old works of stone. By night they had reached the feet of the westward slopes, and there they camped. It was the night of the fifth of October, and they were six days out from Bree.
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Strider says only a few more miles to Weathertop. Hurrah! I've been going rather slow as of late but I still have enough time to get there before the 17th.
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In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
in every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
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