[Eorl of Rohan]

Arien's sun-vessel was climbing laborously into its zenith, its golden radiance illumining the aqua depths of high heaven. Pale birds that swells by the shores of blue Anduin circled overhead, flying far inland in seeking for food. Crimson and silver drops of flowers with their delicate stems and slender leaves flexed and wavered in the breeze laden with dews that reflected sunlight like silver and crystal flames.


"Thus we meet again, Atharen of the Rangers." Ferethor stirred and raised his grey gaze. "In this glade of encircling lush greenery in the midst of peace, as we did in the scene of flowing blood in the midst of strife! You return in good time, for others were already growing restless and new morn kindled high hope within us."

Ferethor was uncomfortably aware of his bloodstained robe and bandaged shoulder already drenched with blood, hastening to add with a wane smile, "As for myself, most of the blood is not mine anyway, and my shoulder is just a scratch." he would not wish to admit, least of all to Atahren of the Rangers, that he was ever grievious injured or showed weakness. 'Of course, he'd probably know without my telling, in all probability.'


Then Crystal, who had traced Ferethor's steps spoke with a slightly quivering voice that might have derived from amazement or joy. "I believed that you had fallen to the hands of our enemies. Is it really you, Atharen or just a hopeful dream?" Crystal asked. Ferethor's brow creased for a moment, then Ferethor clapped Atharen on the shoulder, saying, "Better deliver the news to the others, then." and leaving with a curt and brusque nod truely soldier-style.


Ferethor made sure that he didn't limp but walked with a desive, firm and steady step until Atharen and Crystal was out of sight. As soon as he did so, Ferethor winced and sat down by a silvery-barked tree to rest and wonder about Atharen's sudden appearance.