The weather was not my friend during my journey back home. The snow didn't stack deep, nor was the cold that bitter, but the blowing winds made it impossible to see very far. Under normal circumstances I would have pressed on (for I know these lands as well as anyone can, and what few threats would be along the roads would be just as snow-blind as me). But limping on a healing leg seems a bad time to stumble and suffer missteps that would hinder my healing and slow my progress.
A day passed, then another, and I wondered which would force me to press on first: hunger (for I had brought only a little food; if the only food you can bring for a journey is that sold by Anlaf, you take as little as you can), or boredom (for in a blinding snowstorm, my lute stays in my dry pack, as do my journals).
Last night I resolved to set out this morning regardless of weather, but luckily, the sky was clear. Cold had crept in, making my leg throb, but the way home was open. I built the fire up and got out one of my last pieces of hard-tack, finding it so covered in frost I had to thaw it over the fire. I was counting out how far I might reach (for I didn't think I could make it to Ost Guruth in a day), and choosing a destination (perhaps the dwarf-cave in the south, a bit out of the way, but about the right distance, and better shelter for the night), when I heard footsteps and the creaking of armor from the ridge above me.
The man I found there turned out to be a very helpful, but utterly baffling, man named Trevadir, who claimed to be a former Ranger. I'm not sure if I believe that. I've never heard of one leaving, let alone leaving for the reason he gave, that he was unable to do as much good as he wished with them, and thought he could do more without them. This is hardly the only strange thing about this Ranger. Before half the day had passed he had, for all intents and purposes, proposed marriage to me. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Most generously he shared his breakfast, fresher bread with dried meat, and I in turn shared some of my new pipe-weed, which I'd been told came from far to the west, in the Shire. He offered, no, insisted, on accompanying me, as he was making for Ost Guruth as well, and was of great assistance. Kindly deferential to the needs of my mending leg, following my pace, and helping blaze the trail and make the hours pass. His encouragement helped me push on all the way home, though I am paying for it now, sore and aching through my whole body, and almost too weary to write this.
The real oddness began when I asked him what he did when he wasn't serving as a guide. I was almost expecting his answer: all he did was prepare for his next journey. Gently teasing, I suggested he could become an Eglain scout, since he sounded just like all of them, save myself. Teasing him, and also teasing all my brothers and sisters. He never realized it was a jape; either that, or this played into whatever his true, secret intention was in the Lone-Lands. For his reaction was to ask, in all earnestness, how he might become an Eglain scout.
I humored the question. The only answer I knew was marrying into the tribe. And that's how he came to, effectively, propose to me. Now, I've been propositioned before by men who I've only just met, and when the opportunity allows, I've said yes to some; but I've never been proposed to. It was easy to laugh off, asking if he was just taking the most roundabout path to sharing my bed, and while he certainly was interested in the latter, he never set aside the former. Even when we arrived in Ost Guruth, and when Strangsig (after changing my bandages) ruled out the idea of any sharing of beds, he did not abandon his efforts to speak to Frideric about the possibility of becoming Eglain. Adding to the mystery, he never came up with any answer to what his business in Ost Guruth was, save scouting it to see what aid he could offer, and thus, becoming Eglain and a scout.
All very suspicious, but these are the sorts of things the Elder determines, not me. So far, apart from this bafflingly sudden eagerness, and the mystery of his leaving the Rangers, he acts trustworthy. Frideric will put him through many tests and demand many proofs of intent and loyalty, and will, if it comes to that, determine the proper method by which he could join us (for a mock marriage for the sake of it seems too much to ask of anyone, and I'm pretty sure he doesn’t truly mean to wed me; and even if he did, I am not the marrying kind). (Though I don't doubt that if it came to that, he could find someone amongst the Eglain who might feel otherwise; he is pleasant to look at, seemingly capable, and adequately dour and hard, so I'm sure he could charm his way into someone's wedding tent. I don't yet know how good a lover he is, but not all the girls would be that concerned about that. Girls only; he mentioned having no interest in the boys.)
For now, it's good to have someone new around. As glad as I am to see my tribe, I also welcome a new voice that stirs up new conversations. He also plays some very odd tunes on the lute; interesting, perhaps eerie, neither good nor bad, but definitely different. Hallam is fascinated by the idea of learning new chords. And, to his credit, while Trevadir does not dance (of course!) he's willing to learn. I don't know what to expect from him being here, and pursuing becoming Eglain, but I do know that it will be amusing to watch it play out, however it goes.
That is, unless I wake tomorrow to find he's slipped off in the night, and this was all some strange prank, an odd attempt at spying, a clumsy theft, or the most bizarrely baroque attempt to get into my bed ever. (I told him he didn't need to go to such lengths.) What a disappointment that will be, if he's gone with sunrise. I feel sure it will happen eventually, as he left the Rangers (or whoever he was actually amongst, if that's a lie); I just hope we get a few days of entertainment out of him, at the least.
