Another Name There he is, I hear them whisper, thinking I cannot hear. That Ranger. That Strider. An apt enough description. Many long leagues these legs have traveled, many miles remain before I reach journey’s end. Very well then, Strider will I be, in this place. The inn is warm, the beer excellent. But I sit alone. They watch me, eyes suspicious, voices wary. Would they honor me, if they knew my heritage, if they realized that daily I risk death for their sakes? Would it matter? Telcontar will I surname my sons. That we may remember the purpose and the price.
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