Food For Thought
Amandir had not gone more than two hours towards the forbidding mountain when she was struck by an intense pang of hunger. She knelt on the ground, feeling around for her rations bag. Rations bag? Where was it? Her eyes scanned the area, seeking a small brown bag of leather. Surely it had to be around here somewhere; she must have dropped it, perhaps when she had fallen earlier. That forsaken wind! Grudgingly she got her feet, and sighed. It just wasn't easy being a wanderer anymore. She remembered the good old days, sleeping under trees, hunting creatures in the forest. Now she was out in the middle of nowhere, rationless, incredibly hungry, and with the strains of irritation beginning to flood her veins like a serum. It wasn't fair! But this kind of self-defeatist thought would get her nowhere. No, she needed sustenance.
The nearest town was in a southernly direction. Yes, Caemlyn had inns. She could feed her raging hunger there, if she could make it. Of course she could make it, she was strong. Amandir had once survived an entire month without food, living solely upon her water canteen and a bit of berry juice now and then. She was becoming weak. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she rose to her feet. Turning around, she began to walk towards Caemlyn. Perhaps she could stay at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. She always loved their ale.....
Amandir, Wanderer/Woodswoman
from the Shadow Coast
"All that glitters is not gold/Not all those who wander are lost."-Tolkien
"Wait for me at the Inn of the Prancing Pony"-Gandalf in ze film
"If you really want to live, why not try and make yourself?"-Incubus
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