The fateless Wanderers

Fiontann was walking up and down the road, to and fro the West Gate of Bree, he was growing restless there, more and more. Apart from that he was waiting for the translation of the papers that the others got from Ost Alagos, Mynna was working as hard as he could, he knew that.

It smelled like a slaughterhouse, the old man thought. No. It was worse than a slaughterhouse. At least they wouldn't set flame to the meat they couldn't find a use for. "And...that makes eleven!" Was this a turning point for us? Eleven of our scouts... where did we go wrong? Were we too careless or too shy to make our advances? If this keeps happening from a monthly bases from now on we will be out of muscle when the year is out. "Boss!

~~Here we are standing now. It was a next meeting of the Red Company and we were just south of the traders gate in Bree, by the boar fountain and the Mess hall. As usually, we stood in a row and we all gave Adilyr a fierce salute. “Greetings kinsmen…” he said. “Let us go inside.” He turned and entered the Mess Hall. I suppose that he we to bespeak some things inside, and by that, I entered like my kin.