[Eorl of Rohan]

Passing a hand over his brow, Ferethor was about to head to his room when he noticed a vaguely familiar person staring at him. Ferethor approached, and said pleasantly, "Can I help you?"


Off guard at the moment, he was striken with sudden shock and fear as the stranger asked bluntly, "You must be one of the guards of Gondor in stationary here." The holbytlan gaffers chatting by him suddenly put down their mugs, fell silent and looked at him in wonder.


Ferethor swore silently to himself. "By the Lady Varda Elbereth and Lord Manwe Sulimo, who is this stranger? How could someone in Bree, in Prancing Pony of all places, recognise me?"


Outwardly, he smiled. "What a ridiculous claim. What business will the tall soldiers of Gondor have to do with Shire, and Prancing pony? I'm just one of the southfarthing shriffs here." The hobbit gaffers went back to their mug, mumbling "1420s, this is!"


"I was about to head to my room, do you wish to accompany me?" Ferethor said. "Surely." He said.


"How did you know I was a soldier of Gondor?" Ferethor turned on him as the oak door closed behind them. "What do you know of my errand to the Shire?"


"I would know, since I'm one myself." He said, with silent laughter. "You've not already forgotten me, Thor?" IT was his tone, both wristful and merry, that betrayed his identity as much as the nickname.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 9:13 PM January 27, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]