Rhûnnaro halted at the edges of the clearing and gave a sharp whistle, the call of a small hawk as it signals its approach to its partner. He was answered in kind, and then proceeded around the clearing to the rocky outcropping where the two others waited. He let the slaves go first, keeping their tired, ragged line in sight, reminding them to stay off the grass and dirt of the clearing.
Tenzin came round the rocks, shading his eyes as they approached, and waved to Rhûnnaro. His eyes fell on the young woman who led the group. Her grey eyes met his, as she unconsciously ran her fingers tiredly through her short, cropped hair, and looking away quickly, wiped the dust from her cheeks in afterthought.
The young man approached and held out a skin of water to her, leaning toward her, speaking something softly.
Rhûnnaro took in the scene with interest, his sharp brown eyes missing nothing . . .
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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