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Erundil
"We will seek the departed ranger."
Erundil nodded sharply, as though it was obvious that they would. "Then we should start off. There is no telling how far he has gotten--even without a horse, he makes excellent time; this is especially true if he suspects he is being pursued."
"You speak like he has been a fugitive," the young lady said suspiciously. Erundil glanced at her. Her face was set, but there seemed to be a struggle behind her brave front. The Ranger wondered briefly what it was about discussion of Ravion that made her so uncomfortable.
"He is a fugitive only in his own mind," Erundil said, "but always a fugitive there. He blames himself for his father's death. He blames himself for his orders during the war, for not being at the front lines. I fear for his safety if he has had another one of his...spells."
"Spells?" the red-haired man echoed, looking anxious.
Erundil took a breath to respond, then shook his head. "It is not your concern. I will see to Ravion, and I will bring him back to Gondor. He should not be out on his own. You will not be burdened with him again, I promise you."
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