The Old Have Not Forgotten

Westu Hal, my lord Therowan son of Erkenbrand!

I am Wealda, son of Herumer, son of Grimwulf of the Deeping-coomb. It's been many years since I left, with my family, the green fields of of the Westfold Vale. Bema the mighty knows I left with a heavy heart, but not in dishonour. we settled here in the Bree-lands, in the small village of Combe. But after all these years, I am still a man of the Mark and I will not look away when my kinsmen are in need.

My lord Therowan, please accept my younger son Fritigern as your aid and servant. he is strong and smart enough to know when to speak and when to shut up. he is a good rider and has seen blood being spilled, maybe too much for his young age. If you don't trust him, let him clean the horses, let him clean and repair your weapons. He knows his ways with the hammer and the forge.

My son Fritigern will await your orders in Bree. Send him a letter, if you find him worthy! With hope that this plea of an old man will not drop on deaf ears, Hail!