|
The Smith coughs loudly.
"You're on shaky ground, innkeeper. To my mind Fordim is behaving not like my namesake, but like our village healer's, Feanor of the Peredhil. I would remind ye that suspicion of that unfortunate-stirred up by a laddie remarkably akin to your ain good self-led to the eventual ruin of that wee hamlet. Do not fall intae Fordim's own trap and be sae swift to condemn."
__________________
Among the friendly dead, being bad at games did not seem to matter
-Il Lupo Fenriso
|