Roll Out The Barrels RPG

[the real findorfin]

"Well that's it," thought Fin regrettfully, "theres no chance of finding Gilanor now."

He mumbled a farewell in elvish before looking forward and out into the open world. The wide open spaces before him seemed strange after the inclosed spaces of Mirkwood. He felt somewhat uncomfortable, as if he would fall off and go hurtling into the sky.
He realised he was at the rear of the column and, not wanting to be left behind, nudged his horse forward. The pack horse responded well and Fin hoped that they would continue to get along well.

"Perhaps I should name you," he thought, "perhaps Gilanor II, or maybe Rogil, yes Rogil would be good."

The horse tossed its head in agreement and moved forward under Fin's command. He pulled level with Findereg and noticed the glum expressions on his and the Imladran's faces. He to shared thier hurt, but me mourned first for his friend Gilanor and nothing would change that. Findereg didn't understand that by joking, he was letting his emotions out in a postive way.

"So friend Findereg, how far to Esgaroth?"

"A mere few hours," was the reply.

"Excellent, soon we will see what Esgaroth has to offer." With this Fin let Rogil fall back a little and merged back into the column.

[ February 09, 2003: Message edited by: the real findorfin ]