[Carrûn]

Awyrgan watched the small party with a lazy disinterest. He had first become aware of their movements a few days prior, a raggedy worn-out looking group of travelers. Judging by their appearance they had had one if not more run-ins with adversaries. The howling of Wargs could be heard for miles and the weathered man was prepared to bet his cloak on the wolf-like creatures having something to do with the party's misfortune. He had tracked the prints of a large pack for several days until it led out of his area and towards the Gap of Rohan. One thing was evident about this disheveled band - they had little sense of their direction or bearings.

He shifted from his high perch in a pine tree, attempting to regenerate some circulation in his feet. Trees made for uncomfortable seating but Awyrgan had learned their value in surveillance long ago. He weighed his options silently. He could totally ignore the travelers, but that went against all the Ranger principles he had ever been instructed in. He could continue to track them at a distance, but for all he knew he could end up following a lost group of strangers in a never-ending loop throughout Hollin. The only real option available was to make his presence known to the group and go from there. The man gave an involuntary grimace. He seldom tolerated the company of fellow Rangers, and these were total strangers.

The group was traveling closer to his location and he took a closer look. They were all Men, albeit one appeared to be a woman; an unusual addition to the already strange puzzle playing out in front of him. He could only assume that their intentions were noble; they appeared to be people of Rohan, which was preferable to Dunlanders. Still, the Rohirrim seldom traveled outside of their lands in such small numbers - if at all.

The company halted a few feet from the tree the Ranger was occupying. The majority slumped down on the soft terrain amongst collective groaning. One man seemed to be scanning all possible locations for something that could tell him where he was and were the group needed to go. Awyrgan froze as the man’s gaze swept back and forth across the tree several times before dropping back down to the ground.

One of the men proposed they halt for the night. Awyrgan nodded in silent approval at the man’s accurate assumption that the nearby stream was an ideal fishing location. Most of the party disappeared into the wood line towards the stream, cut saplings and cord in hand. Others wandered off to scout out the site.

When they returned Awyrgan had shifted his location to a tree that gave him a better view of their camp. The hunger evident in their eyes gave speed to their movements and soon all of the fish had been cleaned and were ready for cooking. However, as they began preparations for a fire they discovered what was obvious to the man high above. In their excitement of the catch none of them had gathered any fuel for a fire. He watched as they spread out in pairs a second time, tools in hand.

He sighed. Mind as well get it over with. He waited until he could no longer see or hear the movements of the strangers, then made sure that his rope was secure. Rapping the other end around his arm and waist he said a quick prayer and then ran headfirst down the truck. Reaching the relative safety of the ground he coiled the rope and placed it inside his cloak. Glancing around he noticed a number of small branches spread out across the ground that the group had either ignored or missed.

Gathering a decent cluster of sticks he set about making a fire. He was no dwarf, but soon he had sparks and then flame. He sat cross-legged on the ground in front of it, clearing the surrounding ground and feeding it slowly. Spitting a piece of the fish on a stick he held it over the dancing flames, turning it every few seconds. Soon, the smell began to rise and the man realized with some surprise that he had not eaten in several days.

Soon, as he had anticipated, the sound of footsteps began approaching through the woods from behind him. He remained seated with his cloak hiding most of his features, but checked to make sure that his knives were well loosened in their sheaths. He doubted an encounter with the strangers would lead to blows, but food could work in strange ways on hungry men.

The footsteps stopped as they reached the edge of the site clearing but no one spoke. The Ranger sat eating quietly in front of the fire as two of the men walked slowly around in front of him. He glanced up at them but in the dusk his cloak hid most of his face and only his eyes glowed green in the firelight. They stared at him, surprise outnumbered only by distrust.

He spoke first, waiting for their response. “Well met.”

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Carrûn ]