Hunt

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@Artorias​

The farm grew ou of the pale green hills as if it had always been a part of the scenery. The house itself was a beautiful brick, the colours being the hues of the land herself, rustic brown striations on the grey rock. Upon the rolling fields grew small patches of potatoes, turnips, and all the root vegetables the family loved to roast in autumn. To the unaccustomed eye, the dale was a beautiful swathe of rolling green divided by walls of mossy grey stone, picturesque by any standards. To Rowena, it was just grass, grass, and more grass. She had never bothered to notice the wide variety of deciduous trees in the woodland or how their many different sized leaves adopted different hues in autumn. Even those were just mud, sticks, and leaf litter under her boots. She detested having to travel by horse for forty minutes to reach the nearest village, she loathed the same roasted potatoes and lamb roast they had for every dinner.

Heat of summer pushed in on her and she felt as claustrophobic as a cat in a box. The trees cast pathetic patches of shade and did nothing for the almost overwhelming humidity; it was like breathing in bath water. Despite barely moving at all, sweat rolled down her forehead and patched along the back of her neck until a heavy veil of black hair that was hastily pinned up in a desperate attempt to relieve the heat. With an empty bucket in one hand, the woman, barefoot, made her way from the small stone and mortar farmhouse down across the estate. The grass didn't bounce so much as crunched below her feet as she walked across it, suggesting that the farm fields had been baking in uncontrolled heat for quite a number of days. Down the path she trotted, deciding that fetching water would be her only venture outside for the day.

The stream wrapped around the edge of the farmland like a broad belt of black and silver brocade. Hastily, without admiring the primrose that gathered at its banks, Rowena dipped the lip of her bucket below the surface. Once filled, she made her way back to the small farmhouse, where with just enough fresh water to get her by for the rest of the day, she decided to stay. The day was long and hot, so the evening ended up being looked forward to with anticipation as there wasn't much of anything to do besides complain about the sun and the heat and the patch of sunburn forming across the bridge of her nose.

When early evening finally did arrive, the air cooled. Dusk was falling, the mosquitos were out, goose bumps were on her arms and the green shrubbery were now looking almost black, silhouetted as if the artist's palette had been changed. It was finally cool enough to get out of the house for a while. The horses needed to be fed, the chickens needed to be fed, and their eggs taken from their nests for tomorrow's meals. She expected the same routine, her eyes glazed over with boredom as she went through the motions. It wasn't until she was a ways away from the farmhouse did she see and smell fire on the horizon. The flames jumped over a hill, but she couldn't quite see what was happening. Squinting, she dropped the basket of eggs and broke into a run.

Cresting the hill, she looked on in horror as the farmhouse she called home was demolished by monsters in thick leather armor. The thick oak door hung loosely on its hinges. Windows were smashed and bore the unmistakable black marks of soot as flames curled around them. It had been ransacked and set on fire.

Rowena stumbled back, nearly losing her footing. She would have fallen, her heart beating wildly in her chest, had she not fallen back into something. Turning around hesitantly, her eyes met a giant beast with the pale green head of a monster. Its teeth protruded from its lower jaw that hung loose, its ragged skin scarred and battle-worn. Eyes going wide, Rowena screeched in fear and moved to leap back but the Orc gripped her by the wrist and pulled her in closer to him. His beady jaundice eyes staring back at her as his large hands crashed down on her arms, taking her by the shoulders and lifting her up until her feet were no longer on the ground.

In the intensity of the moment, Rowena somehow screamed with the entirety of her body—garbled, muffled, intermittent, but nonetheless distressing and intense. The Orc bellowed back at her, crushing his hands together on her shoulders as saliva exploded from his lips and splattered against her face. She could scream all she wanted, but there was no one around to hear.

 

[Artorias]

The Rangers of Ithilien served a purpose once and that was protecting Minas Tirith from the Haradrim and Orcs of Mordor. They were skilled warriors that hailed from Ithilien, able to wipe out batallions of Orcs with only a few Rangers. The evil forces of Sauron even feared the Rangers at one point, but they were small in number. Now the Rangers patrolled the lands, tracking down the remnants of Sauron's evil forces and ending them once and for all. Cullen was a Ranger who had been tracking a war band for several days now. Through the cold rainy nights, to the blistering heat of the drylands. He was getting closer and the prints became fresher.

The green cloaked man was hunched down close to the ground with his wooden bow laying within reach. Fingertips running over the large boot print of an Orc heading west in direction. The grass that was waist high was bent and smashed into the ground, laying flat from the weight of the Orcs that traveled through in a stampede. Light blue eyes scanned the field before him, black mask covering everything but those eyes. Cullen plucked his bow from the ground and turned around in stride back towards his horse that was content on eating the mowed down grass. Saddling up and grabbing the reigns, he gave a click of his tongue and sharp kick of his boot before Roach, his horse, began to move in a trot.

He traveled like this for hours baking underneath the unforgiving sun. Canteen was getting low on water but luck would have it that the Orcs path led him through a stream of water where he could refill and Roach could also get a drink. As much as Cullen wanted to dip his head into the water and rest for the day he had to keep moving. The Orcs wouldn't set up camp until nightfall and if he could make up the progress then he could ambush them at night when they were most vulnerable. It was then that he could see the billows of smoke rising in the distance. Slapping the top onto his Canteen and rushing back to Roach, he mounted and gave sharp kicks until they were going at breakneck speed in the direction of the smoke.

He prayed he would make it in time for any survivors, but the likely hood of that reality was next to none. No villages were nearby, no fighters, nothing to protect the farmers that lived way out here alone. The burning home was slowly coming into view over the Horizon, a sharp pitched scream filled the air as the ranger's eyes scanned for where it came from and who was screaming.

Pulling the bow off of him and holding it in one hand, he let go of the reigns as he grabbed an arrow from his quiver and notched it into the string. Roach had been trained to obey his commands without the noises or the reigns, and with the squeeze of his legs on Roach's sides the horse slowed down enough for Cullen to get a proper angle on the Orc that was holding the woman. Drawing back, he wasted no time before releasing the arrow that was destined to find its mark in the side of the Orc's head.

Before the arrow had found its mark, Cullen was already drawing another from the quiver and notching it to find his next target. Orcs were all around, burning and grabbing whatever they could. He would continue to release arrow after arrow into the Orcs. They were in disarray from the attack, calling for one another for a retreat. Orcs were more intelligent than given credit for, and they understood they were in no position to attack the Ranger who had a distance advantage and the advantage of being a better marksman.

As the remaining Orcs fled, Cullen gave a low growl and was ready to give chase but he had a survivor to attend to instead. Giving a sharp 'tsk' of disapproval, he guided Roach down the path towards where the woman was. "Are you the only one that lives here?" He asked, dismounting from Roach to help the woman off the ground. As he got closer, he could see that she was young. This must be her Families farm and that might mean her Family was inside, unless they passed long ago and it was just her here.

 

[Nav]

Rowena desperately tried to hide how fearful she was, but once the Orc's saliva splattered across her face, a sob erupted from her throat. She was a small girl, but in her desperation, she launched herself back as hard as she could and dug her heel into the leather chest armor. Her effort was mostly in vain, for the Orc outweighed her by well over two-hundred pounds with his armor. His hands crushed down on to her shoulders until she feared they'd be crumpled down to dust and she screeched in pain. Her dark blue eyes looked as if an ocean had been encased inside glass marbles, but they quickly cracked and the water began to leak, little water droplets streaming down her rosy cheeks.

The Orc must have been annoyed with her tears because he bellowed at her and removed a hand from her shoulder only to bring it across her cheek. The slap was as loud as a clap and stung her face. His mitted hand left a red welt behind, and just below her eyes was a small gash where a metal piece on his glove had caught her. She was truly going to die here, she realized. There was no one around for kilometers and even if someone did hear her, it'd be too late. The Orc's meaty hand came up to her throat next and clamped down. The leather dug into her sensitive skin and rubbed it raw as she fought, trying to expand her air but no air would come.

It wasn't until the hand fell free from around her throat and she smacked into the ground did she notice the arrow. It had all happened too quick and in her frenzied mind, she quickly moved to scramble away from the corpse. Her throat throbbed, blood dribbled down her cheek and caused stains to blossom like little red flowers across the front of her dress. She would have screamed had she had enough air in her lungs, but she didn't, so she just stared with a pale, wide-eyed face. She glanced back, looking for her savior, but could only see the band of Orcs beginning to retreat in their disorganized fashion. They left behind a shambled shell of a house that was still putting up flames into the evening sky.

"I—" her voice was quiet and hoarse, a deep, barking cough cutting her off as she whirled her head around again to see a horse approaching. Rowena quickly began to scramble back, still down on the ground. She was certain her legs wouldn't support her even if she tried to stand. The man dismounted his horse and approached, and she immediately cowered away from him, expecting a worse fate than what the Orcs had offered. No hit came. Instead, when she opened her clenched eyes and looked back up to him, all she saw was a hand extended out to her and a bored looking face staring back.

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand into his and hoisted herself to her feet. Once standing, she quickly wiped away her tears and the droplets of blood. Shock rutted deeply into her psyche, but she couldn't even cry and more tears as she still couldn't quite rationalize what all had just happened.

"I… I am alone," she remarked, "My father passed away just two weeks past."

It had been a rough month.

 

[Artorias]

The woman was safe from danger for the moment, but with no Family alive and no where to live now. She was open for the Orcs to return if left behind. Cullen would have to bring her along, hoping she might have family. Any family he would take her there as long as they would accept her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cullen blinked his eyes a few times before grabbing the black sleeve mask that covered his mouth and face before pulling it down around his neck. "I'm a Ranger of Ithilien, Cullen Drakthar. I had been hunting this band of Orcs for days now, hoping to catch up to them before they caused any harm but it appears I am too late." The pale blue eyes moved past the woman before him towards the burning home. The sun was setting over the horizon and it would soon be dark, the house would surely attract more attention now with its fiery blaze. Averting gaze from Rowena once more, body turning along with gaze to the first Orc he had killed. The one that had Rowena in its grasp.

He approached the corpse and knelt down beside it and grabbed onto the arrow. Yanking the arrow free from the Orc's head, he wiped the black blood from the tip and slid it back into his quiver for reuse. "You can't stay here. Do you have family in Minas Tirith? Anywhere?" Cullen called over his shoulder, but his hands were busy with the Orc's pouches. Searching through each and every one for anything, anything at all that could get him back on the track after he got Rowena to safety.

Pulling out a dirty, blood covered map the man's eyes scanned over quickly to find there was no significance to the map actually. The Orc had the map without the ability to actually read a map. Orcs had intelligence, but their intelligence only went so far with basic things.

Wiping his brow he stood up and turned back to Rowena before approaching her. Cullen stood at six feet and two inches, his body was lean and muscular from all the years of training to become a Ranger. His beard and hair was a mixture of black and white, salt and pepper, and he was only 36 years old.

The sun was already starting to hide behind the horizon now, they had to be moving soon.

 

[Nav]

An aching moan fell from Rowena's lips as she wiped away the teardrops of blood streaking down her cheek. A wave of pain suddenly washed over her; it was exquisite and debilitating for a young woman who had barely scraped a knee growing up. Her shoulders ached and she could already feel the heat of the bruising, but it was the pain of watching her home burn that seared her most deeply. There was no money left to do anything… where would she go? She had been saved by a mysterious man, but to what end? She'd die in only a few days without adequate shelter; she had no where else to go. A village nearby might take mercy on her, but then perhaps not.

Her mind had so badly skipped a few beats, she had very nearly forgotten about her savior as the images of the flames burned into her eyes until he spoke again. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead, snapping her head back to him. Her eyes were dry, though she wished to cry she felt too stunned to be able to. In fact, she felt too stunned to do much of anything at all besides stare at him dumbly for a few moments. She must have looked like an idiot and she cursed herself for it. Another hand swiped across her cheek with violent frustration, smudging the back of her hand and staining it red. "Very well, Cullen Drakthar, Ranger," she replied, though she did not offer her own name in response.

Her anger was apparent and while it hadn't meant to be focused on him, he kept talking to her and was at the receiving end of every emotion that was channeling through her. Faster than a river flowed, she experienced so much: grief, anger, sadness, remorse, devastation… all of it bad and not a single good thought to save her. "I have no family left," she replied solemly, crossing her arms against her chest protectively. She hadn't even a single belonging left besides her current attire. Everything else was being eaten away by the fire.

As the man, Cullen, approached, Rowena had to tilt her head back to meet him. She was a slight thing, her skinniness exceeding attractive and bordering into malnutrition. It didn't help that she was only a wisp above five foot, but she didn't shy away from him. Instead, she furrowed a brow and dug her feet into the ground where she was.

"You saved my life. I'm obligated to thank you for that—so, thank you, sir Ranger Cullen Drakthar."

 

[Artorias]

Cullen had to give it some thought knowing now she didn't have any Family that she could be taken to. She was a little thing, obviously unable to defend herself out here in the harsh wildlands. Her home was gone now and she was alone, all alone in this scary world and he did the only thing he could do. "Then come with me. I will take you, teach you how to hunt and how to fight. You will travel with me, with the potential of joining the Ranger ranks." He wasn't telling her this was her fate, just an offer. She could say no and be left to her own devices and life, but he gave her a day before perishing. This wasn't his kind heart taking her in, but he was trying to be a good man. Something he needed to rectify a long time ago. Helping Rowena wouldn't wash away his pass sins, but it was a start.

The months ahead would be tough on her. They would be travelling constantly, and maybe stop through some actual cities and not small farming towns with little enjoyments. She would become tough, and able to fight and kill an Orc several different ways without relying on strength. He would be a mentor to her, but only if she wished for such a thing. Grabbing the hem of the black mask he wore, he pulled it back up to cover his face, all the way up and past his nose.

"We must be moving soon, night is always the most dangerous. Cave Trolls are able to walk freely." Were there any cave trolls here? You never knew during the day, but she had lived here long enough to know if she ever heard one at night. They will travel at night, but that is very dangerous for them because of the possibility of never being able to make it to shelter when daylight breaks.

 

[Nav]

"Ranger ranks?" Rowena's eyebrows slid up her forehead, crinkling the otherwise smooth skin up towards her dark hairline. No one had ever looked at her before and figured she could even hold a bow, let alone shoot one. She was a slight girl, barely noticed for her prospects as a wife, let alone as a Ranger. Perhaps the man had been drinking and was seeing her in double, she thought, but then how could he have shot an arrow so straight and true? The reminder of the arrow sent a zap of pain to her cheek and she reached up, feeling the flesh around her cheek bone beginning to puff up with a little bit of swelling. The touch caused her to suck in a deep breath and pull her curious hand away as the wound barked again with pain.

There was no time to grieve. She knew that if she survived the next few days, the realization of her loss would hit harder than ever. She felt sad, but mostly numb. He proposed an offer and she pretended to think it over, but what other choice did she have? Where would she go? There was nowhere left for her to go. The only home she had ever known was still burning—nothing more than a smudge of ash and fire against the night sky. She could try and venture to the nearest town, but those thoughts had already whisked away from her brain. It felt foolish agreeing to go with a stranger—her father had always warned her about strange men—but if not the strange man, then who?

"Very well," she finally answered after a few long moments. "Very well, I shall accompany you, if you think you're able to train me. I suppose it's best you know who I am, then. My name is Rowena Davion. You may call me Ro, if you wish." She looked to the man, trying to study his face but he had already pulled the cloth up too far, disguising most of his features from her. "I have no belongings left, though. They've all perished in the fire." Her attire was hardly suitable to tromping through the forest—nothing more than a pale coloured cotton dress—but she hadn't been expecting her entire life to be turned upside down with quite so much haste.

"Cave trolls?" her face twisted in confusion, tossing a few tresses of her raven hair back over her shoulder, "What in good grief is a cave troll?" her eyes wandered back to the fire that was her home and she felt a pang deep within her gut. Everything the man was saying to her, from Rangers to cave trolls, was so foreign. Her cheek hurt, her shoulders hurt… her heart was heavy. She was weighed down by an immense sum of tears she wished she could cry out, but she sniffled and did what she could to hold them back, though she had to look away from Cullen as her eyes went glossy.

Damn, she wished she was better at controlling her emotions.

"Very well, where is it we are going, then?"

 

[Artorias]

Oh, how much she had to learn about the world. Ever since Sauron was defeated and Mordor was all but destroyed, the people had forgotten the horrors that walked Middle-Earth, along with the Elves. Cave trolls were three times the size of men, carrying whatever they could as a weapon and would kill you, or keep you alive to watch you boil in their pot for stew. The chances of them running into one was relatively slim, but they were always a potential danger in uncharted lands such as these farmlands. Cave Trolls moved, so it was impossible to keep tabs on them and where they might be, only that they just might be there.

This Stranger had saved her, and offered her how to protect herself and hunt so that she may survive on her own. Maybe even join his order and hunt down the Orcs, and end their miserable lives once and for all. "We travel wherever we want. The Ranger's current mission is to hunt down any and all Orcs and end them. We will be traveling to a Ranger hideout, where we will grab supplies and more suitable clothing." Cullen spoke like he was speaking to a soldier and walked over to Roach where he opened a saddle bag. He pulled out another green cloak, a silver pin of the ranger order was on it as well. "For now wear this, and have some of this. Just a bite is enough." The ranger pulled out Lembas Bread. Bread that was wrapped in a large green leaf, to keep it fresh. The recipe was a gift to the Elves, only a handful of 'important' people could get the recipe. Is was a magical bread founded by the Elves, with properties to fill and give proper nutrients through only a simple bite. Which was enough to feed a grown man.

Besides the bread, he handed over his water canteen as well which was freshly filled. If she was afraid to drink after someone else, especially a stranger. Then she would have to wait to drink until they passed by a river or get another canteen from the hideout. Saddling roach, he held out a hand to help Rowena up and onto the back of Roach. "A shame we couldn't meet under better circumstances Rowena." He spoke her full name, not calling her Ro just yet.

 

[Nav]

Everything he offered simply felt like too much. She didn't know what the Hunters' code was (or what the Hunters even were, truthfully, but she felt it to be in bad taste to ask), but his generosity towards a complete stranger was quite impressive. It made her wonder if he was trying to seek what was below her skirt and she eyed him suspiciously as he extended out to her a beautiful cape, a meal, and a water canteen. "Why are you doing all of this?" she asked with hesitation cracking in her voice, but she found herself slowly reaching out for the cape all the same. She was cold, she could feel a shiver building all the way down into the marrow of her bones.

The cloak was soft and warm. She wrapped it about her shoulders and tied it off at the neck, letting the thick, silky fabric fall across his shoulders and down her sides. It certainly wouldn't fend against the fiercest winter winds, but it sufficed more than enough against the cool breezes. Next, she found herself with hands full of a bread loaf and a canteen of water, looking between them. "Just a bite?" she questioned. Well, good to know he was stingy, but she wasn't in a position to argue so she did as she was told, broke off a small piece, and swallowed it down before handing it back to him. At first, the single bite left her with an additional pang of hunger in her stomach. Then, like a flower blossoming in spring, her belly suddenly felt quite full… as if she had eaten an entire seven course meal from a single bite.

She was far from starving; the land and the farm fed her well, so she knew better than to believe one bite would have sufficed her appetite, so she looked at the bread with a twisted expression, but ultimately decided it was against her better interests to ask question.

"Yes, quite," she murmured, looking back one last time at her burning cottage with a painful frown, assessing the situation. Leaving with a strange man who seemed overly kind went against every instinct in her body, but she could either go with him or face the elements, and she knew she wouldn't survive long without a refuge. "Though I find it quite unusual we met under these circumstances," Rowena wasn't sure what possessed her to believe she could trust the man, but she reached out ad slipped her hand into his, hauling herself up onto the horse's back. At least there, she felt comfortable. She was familiar with horses and riding them.

 

[Artorias]

"I'm doing all this because it is the right thing to do, that and I'm trying to rectify my past mistakes..." He wasn't going to go into details with Rowena on what mistakes he made in the past that would cause him to start doing acts of kindness, but ones that have put a burden on him and his soul. Maybe helping Rowena and turning her into a woman who could defend herself from beast or man wouldn't change anything about his fate, maybe he would always be a rotten man down to the core with no redemption. He would be lucky if he didn't die with an arrow in his gut, bleeding out and wallowing in pain.

"Like I said, I was tracking those Orcs. It was unfortunate that I couldn't get here faster." He had been days behind the Orcs, but caught up to them in that short span. It was because he was alone and they were in a group that required to stop at nights, while he could keep going for a few more hours before needing rest. If she believed that he was somehow behind all of this or he only saved her because she was a young, attractive female then she was sorely mistaken. He expected everyone to be dead when he arrived to the burning home, but she was lucky enough to only be in the clutches of an Orc and not at the end of its blade.

Giving Roach a nudge, the horse began to move forward. Without even looking at a map, Cullen was directing them towards the nearest hideout. "It will be a days ride away from the nearest hideout. We will be moving, with only a few hours of sleep." He only needed a few hours of sleep and since she lived on a farm, she should be use to the small sleeping schedule as well. They would move before the sun even broke out, when it was just barely peaking over the horizon.

After only an hour of riding, the cottage was out of view and not even the pillars of smoke could be seen. He had kept Roach at a steady pace, but not at a breakneck run. "How old are you Rowena?" The question may not have been the best to ask already, as she was suspicious of his motives. He was just curious that she lived out here with her Father, but no mention of the Mother at all.

 

[Nav]

"Atoning for past sins, are you?" It seemed like an easy explanation—an explanation that anyone could have used, really, but she had to accept it at face value. There was not much else she could do, anyways. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, a little less metaphorically than she would have liked, so her choices were growing slim. She could risk it with the man, or risk it with the Orcs. After the nasty lashing the one had given her only a bit ago, she decided to risk it with the man. Again, he tried to explain why he was where he had been just at the right time and Rowen shrugged, feeling the familiar swaying motion of the horse below her. The horse below them was steadfast and moved in a swift, comfortable gait, which Rowena was exceptionally glad for riding double.

They travelled for a while, mostly in silence. Rowena watched the world pass by them. It all seemed exactly like it would have back at her family farm: grass, trees, beautiful rolling hills speckled with grains and wildflowers, yet it was all so unfamiliar. There weren't her usual paths or the knotted Oaks she remembered. All the while, something was brewing beneath the surface of her expression. She seemed troubled. A frown was knitted on her expression and the swelling along her cheek had twisted with purple and blue bruising, deepening the seriousness of her face.

She was scared, yes. She could feel the rapid thumping of her heart as they bounced along. She had never traveled so far from home before. She never had a reason to. Occasionally, she glanced back at the cottage. It crouched low into the grassy embankment, as though it was there to hide, but the misshapen slate roof was too large to go unnoticed. She watched it until it disappeared into the horizon. "Me?" she jolted, surprised to hear him speak again.

"Oh, I'm twenty-two," she answered, "Why do you ask?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, though she was curious as to the reason for his inquisition—perhaps it was just curiosity, perhaps it mattered for these… Rangers. "Mm, so, we're heading to a hideout? How do you remember where it is without a map or anything? Do you just have all these lands memorized? That's quite impressive." There were days Rowena felt she could barely remember her way to the barn from her cottage, which was sadly no more.

 

[Artorias]

He could hear it in her voice, the fear that he was a good man doing a good thing. While he could not see her face to see the worry or fear, he could hear it laced in her voice but he didn't stop moving to address her fears. He continued to move onward, towards the destination before they would stop for the night and get some rest. "You never mentioned your Mother...just your Father. I was curious on your age is all." The issue of the map was an easy one to answer, but once again she was questioning his motives since he wasn't looking bewildered at a map for where he was or what he was doing. Rarely has he had a travelling partner, and especially one of this nature that was so feminine. He was simply trying to make conversation, but it appeared it only made him appear shadier to Rowena.

"No. I have not memorized these lands. I passed through the hideout a day ago, when I was tracking the Orcs. I simply follow the same direction and look for the signs of where the hideout is." He responded back to her. His eyes scanning the fields before them, though it was tough without the aid of the sunlight and he wouldn't light a lantern or torch. It would simply paint a target on their back to be ambushed and attacked.

He was ready to ask another question, but kept silent. Thinking it was best this way not to speak to her until she trusted him enough to stop worrying about possibly bolting for the hills. Though he couldn't blame her for possibly thinking that way. He was new to her, and it was evident she rarely met anyone that wasn't family. He couldn't just expect her to act like people from the city would, where it is common to meet new people everyday and be kind to one another.

"We can stop here. Get some rest, but no fire." A fire would attract unwanted attention, and the cloaks and blanket he had would keep them or her warm. They came to a stop in all the tall grass, where the grass wasn't as tall because it was clearly trampled down into the ground. Dismounting from Roach, he helped Rowena down from the horse and pulled out the thick, brown blanket from the saddlebag that held his clothing and other supplies. He only had one, and handed it over to her.

Reaching into a small pocket on the saddlebag, he pulled out a slender pipe. Packing the pipe, he made a small fire with a firestarter kit that all the Rangers had and lit the pipe-weed that were inside the bowl of the pipe. Covering the bowl with his hand, he gave a few puffs before releasing the bowl and smoke bellowing out of his nostrils and corners of his mouth. "Care for some? It will keep you warm." He asked her before placing the tip of the pipe back into his mouth and inhaling another puff. Old Toby as it was called, wasn't harmful and had a sweet smell to it.

 

[Nav]

Rowena's black hair bounced, glossy and very nearly a shade of white in the moonlight. An autumn breeze was creeping up her skin, causing goosebumps to rise up her arms and spine. "My mother passed away when I was very young," she clarified, her voice a bit softer than it had been before. She didn't trust the man, not as far as she could throw him (could she even lift him?), but perhaps she had been too defensive against his questions. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how to understand his kindness. The people of the nearest village were nice, but not friendly and certainly not helpful. They would have watched her bleed out in the streets before they extended a hand. It was only natural for her to assume all men were the same.

After all, she had only really interacted with her father and the people of the village. The only man who had ever shown her any shred of genuine kindness had been a young gentleman from the village who wished to attain her hand in marriage, but those were different circumstances. This Cullen was a complete stranger, and surely if he wished to have taken advantage of her, he would have done so already. Finally, several hours into their ride, she had begun to relax. She let her eyes wander, and her mind, too. They had interacted a few times, but mostly they both remained quiet with only the sound of the horse's footsteps falling between them.

When Cullen broke the silence again, Rowena had to blink a few times to stir herself from her thoughts. "Hmm?" she murmured, as she wasn't paying attention. "Oh, of course." When he pulled the horse to a stop, Rowena slid off the side and dusted herself off. It was still warm enough in mid-Autumn that they wouldn't freeze without a fire, but she could definitely feel a dangerous nip in the wind. In haste, she pulled the cloak tighter around herself and snuggled deeper into its folds. Settling into the grass, Rowena stretched out her legs and laid back. Above her, sequin-silver stars like the scattered embers of a dying fire winked down at her, illuminating the atramentous curtain of sky.

Her belly was still plenty full from the bread, but the sweet smell of the tobacco and Cullen's words caused her to tilt her head back and look back at him. "No," she smiled, "Thank you, but I think I'm alright for now." She was tired though, she could feel the weight of gravity pulling her bones closer to the grass. Her lids felt as though they had been tied down with anvils and before she could even continue to fight the sleeping washing over her, she had dozed off.

 

[Artorias]

Cullen shrugged and kept the pipe to himself, looking over the waves of grass that gently swayed in the breeze. The pipe between his teeth as he bellowed more smoke from the corners of his mouth and nostrils. Some time passed before he turned to look back at Rowena, who had already fallen asleep. Picking up the thick brown blanket he had given her, he readjusted it over her so it was covering her better against the elements. He himself walked a good distance away from where she laid and found himself a spot in the grass before laying down. He didn't need her waking up to the wrong idea.

Just like most nights, he would sleep restless and as the sun barely began to peek over the horizon Cullen was already awake and gathering his pipe and fixing himself. Pulling a chunk of Lembas bread out, he ate the bite and swallowed it before grabbing his canteen of water and washing it down. "Time to get moving Rowena." the aging man nudged the young beauty with his foot, trying to stir her to arise for the day. "We should make it by nightfall if we don't take too many breaks or run into any trouble." The only possible trouble they may have would be some wolves which was easy to deal with, and the threat of a roaming Orc party. Orcs were still plenty in Middle-Earth, but they weren't as organized with Sauron defeated. They were scattered across the lands and mainly hid to avoid eradication.

Pulling the blanket from her, he rolled it back up and back into the saddlebag it went. Waiting for her was a smaller bite of Lembas bread (for breakfast) and the canteen of water to wash it down and just to have fluids and not dehydrate. "After you are equipped and ready, your training will began. We will be staying at the hideout for a few days. They have target dummies, and a few books on survival. Basics really." Sometimes the basics of survival were the most important part.

Nodding his head back to Roach, he saddled up and helped her up behind him once more. She would also be getting her own horse when they arrived, because it wasn't wise to go hunting Orcs on one horse.

 

[Nav]

Rowena stirred to the sound of her name, her eyelids fluttering open. As she roused from a heavy slumber, she was first aware of the coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance. The ground was lumpy as if she were on a bed of earth and rocks. A few times she rolled around, trying to straighten out her mattress when her eyes finally went into focus. She didn't see her bedroom walls… her pillows… her bed. Sitting up, she was surprised to see herself circled in grass, but it took a moment for her memories to sort themselves. The fire, the man, the horse… she reached out and sleepily wiped a hand over her face, only to yelp when her hand connected with the angrily swollen gash on her cheek. Right, she had forgotten about that, too.

The morning on the horizon wasn't grey, but soothing lavender and brilliant amber. The colors merged into neon pink and peach, giving everything a yellow tint, but providing enough light to get up and move about without fear of tripping over an unseen root or rock. "Okay, okay—" she breathed out in a slurred voice, still dipped in sleepiness. "I'm up," she cleared her throat, taking a moment to just articulate every joint in her body. They'd make it by nightfall… where were they going again? Right, the hideout. She sighed tiredly and looked to her new companion, eyeing him over once before looking away and going to straighten out her hair by bringing her fingers through the locks. Again, he provided her with a bite of that strange bread and some water, both of which she took.

She was glad for them, too, because her belly was full and comfortable and her throat moistened.

He didn't give her much of an opportunity to do anything before he coaxed her back up on to the horse, but she couldn't complain. "Another day before we arrive? Mmm," but it seemed as least they'd arrive by nightfall, so perhaps they wouldn't have to spend another night on grass and first. The idea of training caught her off guard, but she tried not to think of it for the time being. For now, she just needed to concentrate on getting to the hideout, or whatever it was.

 

[Artorias]

Cullen gave Roach a kick before he started off at a trot and then a run as they continued onwards in the same direction they had been going yesterday. Cullen was wide awake, though the slight bags under his eyes would suggest otherwise that he was tired. He hadn't been sleeping right in awhile now, something that he needed to fix but was too occupied to actually do at the moment. "There may or may not be Rangers at the hideout. Usually we come and go, not needing anyone to watch over the place because it watches over itself." The hideout would be hidden well and required no guards. If some lucky sucker found the hideout without knowing the ways to find it and open it, then well they were out of luck. The chances of that happening were extremely low, to none at all.

Taking both hands off the reigns, he began to rummage through one of the many sacks on the saddlebag, looking for something by obvious deduction. He rummaged before pulling out a bag within the bags, but this one smelled of spices and herbs and was wrapped in a different kind of leather. Handing the bag behind him to Rowena. "Dressing your own wounds is important when you are out here alone. You were raised on a farm, I'm sure you were taught what you need for wounds like the one on your cheek." He actually didn't know if he had the proper herbs for her wound or not. It had been awhile since he was last rummaging around in that bag to help a wound.

They would be travelling for the entire day, may as well grow acquainted with one another. She could leave at any time, but before he left her he was going to make sure she was well trained and properly suited and could actually fend on her own. That might take months, maybe even a year or longer. It depended on how quickly she adapted and took in his training.

 

[Nav]

How quickly her life had changed, though she wasn't entirely sure it was for the better.

A day ago, she had a beautiful home. Sure, she might have lacked family and friends, but she made up for it with her independence. She could sustain herself. She could plant a small garden and the land fed her well, the woods kept her warm in winter, and the walls kept out the wind where the roof kept away the rain and snow. It was not a glamorous life, not like those of the elven cities she had read about, but it was a good life all the same. Suddenly, she had sommersalted into a world of hideouts, Rangers, and Orcs, and while she could feel excitement palpitating in her heart in a way she had never experienced before, there were still a great deal of her parts which missed the ordinariness.

It was hard to grieve when there wasn't much to grieve. She hadn't lost anyone new that hadn't already been lost some months before and she couldn't justify crying over a home. It was a nice home, but it was nothing sentient. It was rocks and dirt and mud and cement.

"Yes," she replied whimsically, though her thoughts were elsewhere, "I know at least basic medics." At least she knew of local herbs and remedies, as she could only readily acquire that which grew within a square kilometer of her house. The village sometimes had other items from elsewhere, but she couldn't bank on them… and she couldn't usually afford them, anyhow. The leather satchel was thrusted out to her and she leaned back on the horse's rump a ways to set the bag down between her legs so she could rummage through it. Most of what was inside she could identify, but there were still a number of question mark items.

Most of the herbs required to be ground down, at least to some extent to produce any effect, and would need to be activated with water to produce a paste. None of which she could reasonably do on horseback. "I'll care for it when we arrive… where ever it is we are to arrive to," she explained. The cheek was tender and raw, bound to get infected if she just left it as it was, but a few more hours on the horse without treatment wouldn't make a difference of life and death. " Tying the leather satchel back down, she held on to it for the time being, as she knew she'd need it later.

"How many Rangers are there, anyways? What are the purpose of the Rangers? Do you have a king?"

 

[Artorias]

Cullen merely glanced behind him for a minute when she asked about the Rangers. Now she was being the inquisitive one, striking up the conversation instead of him for once. A nice change of pace, but an odd question. She lived out in the middle of nowhere, yes, but everyone has heard stories of Sauron and the forces that defeated him. The Rangers shared a large portion during the war, though they may not be the heroes of the story they did the dirty work that helped Minas Tirith survive for as long as it did. Without them who knows what may have happened. "Unsure on the number. Hard to keep track of our numbers since we are always travelling. Like right now." If he had to guess on a number, maybe a hundred? Maybe more or less, it was hard to tell. The numbers have risen since the war, that was for sure.

"Our King, like you. Is Aragorn." Aragorn was a Dunedain and was still alive in this world, leading from Gondor to bring the realm of Middle-Earth back to peace. The Dwarves mainly kept to themselves now, along with the Hobbits in The Shire. Everything was almost too peaceful, and something will eventually disrupt that. Be it a war between the races, or a new Orc uprising. Change was coming, but how long?

"The purpose of the Rangers before the war was to fight off the hordes of Sauron. The rangers were few in number, but slaughtered platoons of Orcs with a deadly purpose. We killed so many damn Orcs that they were actually afraid of us, if you could believe that. Orcs, being afraid." Cullen gave a small, hearty laugh just thinking about how the brutish monster known as an Orc could fear a human.

"Now we hunt the Orcs. Trying to destroy their tribes and patrols. Anything to lessen the threat that still looms over the realm." He was half-waiting for her to ask who the hell Sauron and Aragorn were. If she asked that question, he would probably respond with her living under a rock. Her Father and Mother would of known, anyone in town and taverns would know and speak the words and tales of the Fellowship.

 

[Nav]

Once upon a time, Rowena had heard the stories, of course. Her father had told them to her, but they had never really stuck with her. Perhaps because she was so far removed from it all. Living out so deeply in the countryside and only but a child during any part of those stories, she felt detached from them. Plus, her father always very much embellished his stories, so she always took everything that he said with a grain of salt. Meeting a Ranger though, hearing him tell what he was willing, made her reconsider just how overstated her father's story truly were. Perhaps there really was some truth to that complicated, heroic narratives he used to whisper to her as she dozed off at night.

"Mmhm, mmhm," Rowena made soft purring noises as she listened, occasionally nodding her head or humming to inform him that she was acknowledging his words. "That is very interesting, Cullen. Then how did you become a Ranger?" Her curiosity was not abnormal, though after her defensive grumblings towards Cullen earlier, it probably came off as a bit unusual. She was quite snooping by nature; she used to drive her father nuts with all of her questions. You ask too much he used to say, wagging a finger at her disappointingly, You should ask less and spend more time finding a suitable husband. The ever-elusive husband, Rowena inwardly sighed as the memory appeared out of nowhere at the front of her mind.

"I've only ever seen an Orc… twice… yes, twice before yesterday," she admitted, "I've lived quite a charmed life, I suppose. I never realized how grim the world away from my little cottage truly could be. Do you really spend all of your time tracking Orcs to destroy them? Does that not get lonely? Boring?" Not that she had any room to talk. Her life wasn't exactly anything but boring and lonely, either, but at least she wasn't constantly tracking things to kill—things that very much wished her to die.

"Did you say a threat? Mm," she hummed again, digesting what it meant to her. "Is there some kind of danger then? Is there not any kind of danger? Mm, you think creatures would just learn to relax." She had such a lackadaisical outlook on like. To her, it seemed so easy—just stop killing and they'd stop trying to kill you. It seemed so simple in her head, though she knew it was a great deal more complicated than she was making it out to be.

 

[Artorias]

Cullen couldn't tell if she was actually paying attention with the hums she gave, which to him was usually a sign of boredom and someone not actually paying attention. She responded with questions that showed she indeed listened to what he had to say and wondered about his origins of how he became a Ranger. "What do you mean? I've been a Ranger before the War even ended. I was born in Ithilien, like most others. It is just something that happened, years ago." Cullen shrugged. He was a descendant of the Ithilien bloodline before it fell to Gondor, just like every other Ranger. She wouldn't be a 'true' Ranger like him and the others, but times were changing and they were allowing more into their ranks. Anyone willing to learn and hunt down Orcs.

"Of course we don't spend all our time hunting. Many have families, farms to tend to and a life to live... Some others have nothing to return to and find solace in their work." He spoke the second half quieter, and without as much emotion behind his voice because it had applied to him. He was always tracking, hunting Orcs down because he had nothing to go back to. Nothing he wanted to go back to really.

"There is no present danger, but that doesn't mean there won't ever be and the Orcs will never stop. Do you not know the origins of the Orcs? Melkor, something darker than Sauron, captured elves and tortured them. Orcs are twisted, perverse versions of the Elves you may have heard in stories.They have dark hearts and war is all they know..." Cullen explained to her. He would make sure she understood that she should never trust an Orc, no matter what. They will kill anything that isn't one of them because that is what they are now bred to do. The original Orcs were tortured Elves, now the current Orcs and Uruk-Hai were bred in some breeding thing they had that Cullen didn't understand and didn't want to understand.