Rangar chuckled silently to himself as he watched his friend and the Gondorian women walking back to Bree. They were already fighting. It had been an accident, paring Turthol with that Gondorian, Wren. He did it unconsciously, but it was a very funny accident, none the less. Bregand, the other guide was talking to the elf about the reliability of the roads. "There are still orcs, but there are also patrols," "Which are unreliable." Countered Rangar. "Then we should travel through the elvish lands." "Fine, but not all lands belong to the elves, we will have to take some roads or go through the wild." "Which would be faster." Bregand finished. " The roads don't really get dodgy until you cross the misty mountains." Said Rangar, "We'll figure out what road to take when we get there."" Um, but isn't better to have a plan" said the Roherrim maiden, Ravenne, stepping forward. "Not really."
Rangar didn't much feel like planing this too throughly, because when the plan is screwed up, the whole endeavor comes to pieces, and he knew that all to well. Suddenly, the whole group turned to the right, as a small shadowy figure rose above hilly landscape, coming toward them. Rangar stared wildly for a moment, then recovering his wits, joined the others in drawing his sword.
[ April 30, 2003: Message edited by: Arvedui III ]
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