"Any idea when the next victims are coming off the tumbril, old boy?"
Squatter had been rather pleased to discover that his randomly chosen seat was next to a slightly battered Heren Istarion, and the two of them had been discussing some of the issues of the day, such as who had brought the beer. He had been vaguely aware of some sort of conversation with the people in the next row, but his concentration was divided between the stage, his companion and his drink. He accompanied his question with the flask.
[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]
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Man kenuva métim' andúne?
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