Tired and spent, his leathers smelling of old sweat and blood protest against his weary legs as he trudges up the steep slope that leads to his house. Carrying his bow in his hand he leads his old weathered, but well loved horse to the side of the lonely cottage that stands almost precariously on the bluff that holds its foundation.
Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/
