I have diligently cared for Davick since he came to me. I have done all that I can to help him. My skills and knowledge are not without limit though. I cannot restore sight to the blind any more than I can return life to the dead. I hold out hope that this is only temporary, but I get the feeling that his hope is fading, if he ever had any.

I must admit, whilst on my second trip into the mysterious settlement of Bree, I came across a Tavern named the 'Prancing Pony', in which boisterous men sit and drink their ale, recalling battles of old, however something else was catching my attention. There were curious whispers on the wind. "The Council of Middle-Earth? I hear they go on Adventures to help those in distress, be it an infestation of slugs in your farm, or a damsel captured by ghastly Orcs!"

Would that not intrigue you? ".. Quite."

 As I pass through Bree, the faces that I once saw along the cobbles have vanished. Everyone seems to be preparing for war, a dearest friend of mine; "Craign" decided that it was his time to depart to Enedwaith. I had walked with him to the south gate of Bree, we exchanged items to each other that meant something to us, and represented a story or feeling. I had exchanged my silver ring that was handed to me by my friend, just before I departed Lorien during my younger days. It has brought me luck and hope, Craign will benefit from it greatly.

As I peer up from the shadows in which I´ve hidden, I notice how cloudy the night sky is. All but few stars are obscured by the dark clouds. One of those that are still shining brightly is the Mariners star. While looking up, I can hear the rustling of the leaves on the chilly wind and the footsteps of those brigands that are supposed to meet up here. My lips shape a faint smile for a moment. That no-good little snitch Finch was right.

Escort duty. As through we were a couple of mercinaries. No bloody pride when she should have it, then all bloody prideful when she wants. M'lady bloody Olwing.

Women. Give them a foot and they take a league. She stands there, face as sour as bad wine when she hears what I says about it. What does she expect? Into the misty mountains with her is bad enough, tho' I give her some due, she knows how to hold her sword. But into the mountains with her and some dozy mare who aint even got a map... What does she want me to do... thank her?