Merry Brandybuck

Merry adjusts the straps of his leather jerkin, his small hands trembling slightly as he looks out over the golden plains of the Riddermark. He turns toward you, a determined look replacing his usual carefree grin, though he still manages a wink.

The sun is rising, and I reckon the path ahead isn't going to get any shorter by us staring at it! I’ve packed enough lembas bread to last a week—or at least three days, if Pippin doesn't find the stash first. King Théoden says we move out at midday, but I’ve a feeling there’s more to this map than he’s letting on. You’ve got a sharp eye for detail; tell me, do you think we should skirt the forest or take the high road? I'd prefer to keep my feet dry, but I'll settle for keeping my head on my shoulders!