Never trust Gyth ter pick a warrior. I said we should have gone for the leader o' them chetwood lot. He may be as ugly as chewed boot, but he looks like he could last a few years.
But no - Gyth flutters her eyes and waves her hair about, an' picks this bloody lad, face as fair as a maid an' about as effective. Goes by the jaw-cracking wealas name o' Araenion. Or Onion... feh. I dursen't know, by the time we gets to the Bridge Town, whether he's escortin' us north, or whether we'm looking after -him-.
When Gyth an' me wake up in th' morning, he's gone. first Gyth thinks he's up and left us, so we decide to have a look about, see iffen we can see him. We gets up to the edge of that blasted land, where the graves are ... nothin'. an' damn me if bloody bawde turns up! Gyth is fairly sobbin on his shoulder. She'm never makin' her mind up over them lads and they'm around her like wasps on a honeyed tit. Feh.
Now cos we paid him, i wants my coin's worth. So we goes looking fer the daft soft lad. Gyth gets in a state, thinkin' he's lost an' its all her fault. Tho' him being a lad an' all and hired to damn protect us, I'm thinkin' he ought to be looking fer us, not t'other way about.
After a long wasted day we ends up in a stinking troll nest! well, i tells yer I aint -ever- seen such a thing! Like out of one of Gyth's maddest songs. As big as trees they are, and as grumbly crunchy as rocks... found a lad there, almost half dead. Which set us a-thinkin'. we aint found this Araenion.. an' its obvious them trolls like a bit of flesh. Stands ter reason, daft lad has had his face chewed off.
So... that were a waste o'good coin. An' we aint got rid o' Bawde.. an' we never got the chetwood lad. I'm tellin' yer iffen i was a troll I wouldn't have et one like him... ugly tastin'...
So now Gyth's having a cry cos she'm killed the lad. which is fair as she picked him. Still her turn to make the fire an' cook though - cos I aint.
