Faimur shifted uncomfortably in his Eagle Guard armor. The harsh sun of the Lone-lands raged down upon his exposed neck, making a drop of sweat trickle down his brow. What I wouldn't give for some water right now... He thought, casting a glance over to a small, brown-haired Hobbit, before shaking his head. No, I don't need it that badly to ask Pomina.
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Faimur
