"I'm tired of traveling. All these years of wandering around used to made me happy, but at last I am weary from my travels. Or at least that's what I am thinking at the moment... Not a life for anyone to live, all this "goin' there, you can't stay here" kind of living.
I believe this is the first time I ask something to myself and I expect some kind of answer: "What am I to do here?". The thought of dying without accomplishing anything lingers in my mind, and my nightmares of this provide me with desperate nights. Am I to live my life hunting for mere beasts?...
This Bree-Town doesn't seem so bad at the moment, quite a lot happening all the time to occupy my troubled mind. Whether is it a good mug of ale shared with friends, or even two rebels throwing fists at each other on some putrid tavern, it all serves to keep me occupied. I missed these little adventures..."
