Me and Gyth, Bawde an' Wulfie got out as far as that Oat's Guruth, past the forsaken inn. A miserable place it is, full o' folk that have no homes. They says that there is shades an' worse a-walkin' about nearby... and there is a great stinking mire.. when the wind blows wrong I can smell it. Faugh! no wonder they all looks so sad. makes me want the open wolds of home, see for miles, green grass and clean clean air.
I feels a bit sad for 'em. They aint townfolk, they aint used to livin' all bunched up. Summat must be wrong, for them to run behind the big walls.
We met a rohan lass in all that mess ... now, she said summat worrying too. She said, an' I suppose she weren't lyin', that she were riding in an eored. An Eored! Lasses don't ride in an eored, everyone knows that!
It must be bad, iffen her folks, and the men of the eored proper, are letting lasses make up their numbers. They must be all old giffers and green lads, not have enough real warriors left to fight. Her eorl must be a sorry excuse for a lord, iffen he has lost so many warriors he has to use lasses to fight for him. Shame on him. Makes yer wonder tho' don't it, how did all the real warriors die? I knew there was a bit o' trouble at home, but ... that bad?
Sometimes I'm glad we got Bawde with us, even if he shouts. I dursn't like what I'm seeing, it ain't safe no more.
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