Two more man approached the table. Ferethor noticed that one seemed wary and deceptive, swarthy and stocky. Race of Haradrim. However, Maen was too intent in Ferethor to notice their approach.
Ferethor glanced in a plea for aid to Aelimur, but he averted his gaze. 'Wise. He knows how to cut his loss.' The thought flashed through Ferethor's mind.
He said aloud, "I've ridden with the Mark in the past - I've met Dorian in the battle with last remnant of Haradrim, in the field of Calanedhron. I've come to value his friendship and valor, though we have grown estranged since." Not very convincing - but that'd do.
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