Entry Twenty One: Distance Travelled
Long has it been since these pages had been parted. One remembers… all too well, that last fateful night that they did so. He injured a friend, almost jeopardized an innocent’s life… Branding himself, no better than what those within Bree, hanging posters baring his image. Wanted by the lawmen for a crime which truly was not…
One would dwell on such actions longer, yet fair distance has passed between himself and Bree. On leaving his domicile, one was approached by the daughter of Halbrandth. Known to those as Greywolf, she spoke of rumour of her father’s whereabouts. Not knowing of his fate and the oath one swore to him long ago, he agreed to travel with said “Ranger” to find an old friend.
Trust has never been one’s strong suites nor was it in the case of Greywolf. Admittedly, she held strong resemblance of her mother but not so much to gain such. After all… She claimed to be that of the bloodline… That which led to one’s greatest loss…
Taking the long path, along the Cliffside of Nen Harn we would cross into the realm of the North Downs. Growing weary and restless of the events which took place prior, one would lead Greywolf to the small settlement of Lin Giliath. The residing elves within would ask for aide, ridding the surrounding lands and waters of what few orcs remained. A group of men had arrived previously, taking the forefront of the assault.
Greywolf agreed to do so, which one aided in for a while. There was not many left worth the trouble, so leaving her early one would return back. Though yet to trust her, he would keep his word and aide in finding her father. On return to Lin Giliath, the group of men previously mentioned would be resting, licking their wounds. One was pleased to see who was leading them.
A man one holds close to heart as if a brother, Fiontann would lead the charge of these men and women. Though brief, it was time to share words with someone truly trustworthy in his eyes. As morning would break, the fires settled, it was time to move onward. Crossing the plains and fields of the North Downs, reminded one of a time spent with her…
It would be then he and Greywolf would hear the calling of a nearby farmer. Gatson was his name and he claimed that Orcs where infesting his fields, destroying his crops and feasting upon the flesh of his livestock. Gentle at heart, it would appear Greywolf would be. She wished to aide in the matter swiftly, rushing ahead. Foolish in youth? Or has one finally begun to slow in pace?
Spending a few weeks upon the farm lands, which one could not complain about as the pay for such services was fair though not necessary. One learned to trust that of Greywolf a little by day. Her heart would seem in the correct place, but the blood that would run through her veins was still that of a warning. A warning one doubts he would forget. Though an oath had been sworn, to Halbrandth which one would honour.
Amidst a cold and windy night, one would leave a note upon the side table to where Greywolf would sleep. Thoughts towards Esteldin and finding her father. Without hesitation nor looking back, one would mount Illith and snap her reigns.
Distance travelled had separated one from those in search for the bounty on his head… Yet those who would await in Esteldin, where just about as trustworthy…
