[Eorl of Rohan]

Fair hemlock-leaves swayed to and fro gently in the breeze, and the dim darkness was driven out by mists of silver quivering and shimmering dawn-light. Stony and tarnished mountains tall could be descried afar off towering in barren majesty, crowned with whisps of cloud pale snow-woven.


"And I will make sure that you will live even if it takes my very life. You have that as my promise, Ferethor," Crystal whispered. "Let us hope that such things do not come to pass." Captain Ferethor answered, and then rose to his feet, fror he was afraid to speak more of his secret thoughts. Lord Dorian was overstepping his bounds if he actually tries to kill Crystal, though Ferethor was postivie that he would not do such a rash thing. Cruel and callous on some points, yes, but not crazy. If Dorian ever tries, though, he would be justified in...


Therefore he passed swiftly into the eves of the everygreen trees. Making his way through entangled vines of vivd green and passing by tall evergreens casting lenthening shadows, Ferethor came across a glade strewn with early fallen beechen leaves and adorned with wet yellow wild strawberry leaves. The golden-stained leaves of rowans danced to the rhythm of singing breese, and squirrels chattered as they fared about in a bustle of leaves. Sunlight gleamed through flitting leaves in patches of gentle light, and flowers blossoming seemed like beryls, rubies, and opals pale.


There Ferethor cast back his hood to allow for wider vision of this fair place, heedless of any peril that might assail him here. In there still the beauty that was wrought in ancient days seemed to linger and be preserved, unstained by passage of time nor lamentations uncounted. Then Ferethor stayed his steps in wonder, for Atharen the Ranger whom he deemed lost was thrusting his way through the lush woods.