[Saurreg]

Somewhere upon white cliffs, a small green tortoise is thinking about flying…

But eight hundred miles and several time zones away, Loudewater was sitting cross-legged and creating chicken scratch with a twig in hand. It all happened too fast for the simple farmer’s mind to fully grasp the development of things. He was starting to think that perhaps tagging along with the Gondor’s finest was perhaps not the highest item in his to-do-list. But when the huge and impossibly stone-faced Tarando stood before him, there was nothing else to do but to agree with all terms under the withering stare of glaring elven eyes.

”Louderwater!”

“s,”

”You will travel with us, do you hear?”

“s,”

“You will do exactly what I say, yes?”

“s,”

“Good. Now take off your pants…”

Of course the above conversation never took place, but the farmer was very sure that if he did not agree to stipulated terms of treaty (or capitulation), the elf was going to put those huge powerful hands around his scrawny throat and squeeze just to see if eyes of Bree farmers’ eyes pop out from their sockets if the applied pressure was about right.

Old stone face wasn’t around. He, the incredibly tall elven amazon (whom Loudewater quickly decided has a “do-not-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-squeeze-till-your-eyes-pop” demeanor) as well as Thoronmir’s younger companion (a pleasant chap) had gone off to find out what happened to some of their mounts.

At least killer had the sense not go bolting around at the slightest spook. Either that or the mule was too dumb.

Loudewater felt eyes upon him and looked up from his doodling.

“Loudewater,” a mellow voice intoned across the fire. It was Thoronmir, the ranger who saved him.

“Yes sir?”, queried Loudewater meekly.

“Firstly, you need not address me as sir. I did not ask you to do so and neither does current circumstances warrant for it. Thoronmir will suffice,”

“Yes sir… erm I meant Thoronmir,”

“And secondly, do not think unkindly of us my friend. I can tell from the way you brood, that you are starting to feel unhappy with the development of events. Tarando wishes that you join us only for your own safety. The roads as you’ve seen for yourself today are no longer safe. Rest assured that once the situation permits, you will be allowed to return home unmolested and unharmed. This I pledge on my honor as a ranger of the king,”

The ranger gave Loudewater a wane smile,

“Trust me my friend.”

Loudewater looked at Thoronmir and could not help but break into a smile of his own. He was struck by the ranger’s sincerity and knew that he wanted to trust the man wholeheartedly.

“Yes… Thoronmir,” Replied the farmer awkwardly, “I apologize if my behavior has been rude and insulting to you and… and your companions. I trust you… friend.”

The ranger smiled again and this time there was genuine warmth.

Loudewater threw the useless piece of twig away and suddenly felt his stomach rumble. The pang of hunger made Loudewater remember that he had not eaten for an entire day. He looked towards Killer’s saddle and was relieved that his bulging fanny pack and flask were still firmly secured. Loudewater got up, made his way to the mule and removed the said attachments. He then returned to the circle around the fire and announced to all those who were still awake,

“I erm… left me house with some provisions to sustain me on the way. Seeing that nobody’s in the mood to gather or hunt, or that it’s even possible under such circumstances, I’ll be more than happy to share.”

The Rohirrm Osric whom Loudewater learned also played a part in saving his life, had returned to the camp. The farmer beckoned the newcomer to join him as he sat down, emptied the contents of his bag and proceeded to pass them around to anyone interested in good nature.

He was tempted to go and shake the very badly wrecked Verdayan awake violently so that he could eat (a wounded man needs to sustain his strength even more, no?).