[Orual]

A small fire had been built, and all the members of the odd little traveling band were making themselves comfortable. Aeron and his sister were off in one corner, speaking to each other in low voices, Raefindan was feeding the fire, and Mellonin was lying on her back, gazing up at the stars. Her short, choppy hair, with its thin braid, lay spread out in a sort of aura around her face.

Ravion snorted as he whittled away at a piece of wood. What a group to drag all the way to...where? Rohan? Mellondu, or whatever it was he wanted to be called, was far gone from Rohan. There was no sense in looking for the boy in Edoras. Perhaps they shouldn't even stop. What could the Rohan pubs tell him that he did not already know?

But where could he be headed? There were a number of places north of Rohan for a blacksmith who thought he was an elf to set his sights. Lorien. Mirkwood. Rivendell. Ravion shuddered. He did not want to see the quiet, sad, abandoned thrones of what had once been the greatest race in Middle-earth. He did not want to see the evidence of the decline of the race who had given his people so much.

His head snapped up at the sound of rustling leaves, but it was only Mellonin turning over onto her side. Her large, expressive eyes were full of worry, and it pained Ravion. He swung his leg over the log that he was sitting on and crouched down, sighing and rubbing his hands through his hair. He put a hand to the ground to steady himself as he lowered himself to rest, and he realized that it felt good to have the cool, living earth under his body. He realized further that he didn't mind having company while he slept, even if it was odd company. A snuffle and a low growl brought a qualifier to that: he didn't mind having the company, except for that idiot dog. What was he supposed to do with a dog? He rolled his eyes irritably and prepared his bedroll.

"Who wants first watch?" he called.