The man stole in the shadows, minutes before the dawn. He moved carefully and aware of every step that he took in the forest. His purpose was fixed on his target. One that he was following for some days now. He stopped behind two trees that were close enough to each other to cover him and looked ahead. He took all the necessary precautions to remain hidden from his trained enemy. One of the Dunedain, one of those that stayed in the North. He looked between the trees, his face hidden due to the mud that he scraped on it to avoid the paleness of his skin betraying him. The Ranger was not alone. It was two of them. He finally found him and it was two of them. The man had to retreat and wait or strike now and risk his life. There was no turning back for the Ranger Hunter.
He let his weight fall on the trees and watched the two men. They were talking quietly and he couldn’t hear a word. Typical of Rangers. Always staying quiet, even when it’s just them. Though they gestured vividly, almost like his own kin. It wasn’t long before the smell of freshly cooked fish started flying in the air and it reached his nostrils. They were about to eat. The man waited patiently. He pulled the hood on his head to cover it from the cold and his hands checked his weapons. The two swords at his hips, the two daggers in the belt on his back, the other pair of daggers at his chest and the third pair at his boots. He had his bow on his back along with a bundle with arrows in it. He amused himself with ways of killing them. The safest one would be to shoot at the Ranger he didn’t expect and engage the other head on, that was the best solution. He couldn’t wait for them to sleep. One would stand watch and that’s when they would be dangerous and ready. When standing watch, ready for everything.
The man pulled his bow ever so gently and nocked an arrow. He pulled it back in an even gentler manner and took aim. He drew a deep breath and held it in. He fixed his eyes on the Ranger whose back was turned to him and let his feelings take over. He felt the breeze in his face and hands, he felt the arrow’s weight and adjusted it according to the wind. He aimed a little higher than the Ranger’s head and froze. He felt his heart beat, three beats per inhale and three per exhale. His right thumb barely touching his face, a harmony as he stood motionless, he let the arrow become an extension of his right arm and the bow of his left. He felt every single vibration. He held his breath for more than three beats. The Ranger across him raised his head and and puffed his chest. The man released the arrow on the sixth beat. It flew at an angle and pierced the Ranger’s neck from behind and came out from the front. The Ranger fell forward unable to breathe and choked on his own blood. His companion jumped up and grabbed his spear. The man let the bow drop and started walking towards the Ranger while drawing his swords.
The Ranger ran for cover towards the trees at the man’s right avoiding the part where the arrow came from. The man turned right and walked that way staying covered by the trees, he wasn’t yet seen and he could use the element of surprise for a second time maybe. Soon he saw the gleam of the Ranger’s spearhead, he held his own swords vertically and behind his legs to avoid being seen as much as possible. He walked towards the Ranger without any hurries, but the Dunadan was waiting. His senses were sharp as ever and he stepped out his hiding place in order to confront the man in the dark brown cloak and the leather armour. The only thing that the Ranger could make under the hood of the man was the white of his eyes. Those two slits were burning with hatred and at once the Dunadan realised who it was. An Angmarim. One of the Dark Men.
The Ranger took up a defensive position and studied the man’s way of moving searching for a weakness. He saw none. The man got close and tried to stab the Ranger with his right sword. The Ranger parried with the tip and the Angmarim attempted to slash at his right side with the left sword. The Ranger parried with the butt of the spear. The Angmarim attempted a third attack by trying to stab again with the right sword. The Dunedain used the long reach of his weapon and went on the offensive as well. While the Angmarim tried to stab, the Ranger swung the butt of the spear hitting his right hand sending it inwards and at once he tried to hit the man on the head. The Angmarim ducked and the Ranger tried to slash at his face, this time with the proper end of the spear. The Dark Man brought his left hand up holding his sword vertically and put the other sword horizontally behind it blocking the spear and in a swift motion he managed to bring it between his arm and his torso, now having his back at the Ranger. The Dunadan kicked him and pulled the spear. The Angmarim stepped forward from the kick and turned and stood still letting the spear stab the air in front of his face. The Ranger spun right on his heels and swung fiercely at the man’s legs, the Angmarim blocked, the Ranger spun left and tried to swing at the man’s face. The Angmarim blocked again and this time he kicked the Ranger who took a step back, then a second and a third and some more and hurled the spear at the Dark Man. The Angmarim turned sideways once more, giving as little target as possible. The spearhead pierced the ground some distance behind him and the Ranger pulled out his sword and charged. The Angmarim charged too. Their weapons clashed. After the initial collision and while they remained clasped against each other the Dark Man let his left swords drop and grabbed the Ranger’s sword wrist, with a quick motion that surprised the Dunadan he spun him around. Now he held the Ranger against his chest with his sword parallel to his arm rendering it useless. The Dunadan had no chance of reaction. The red sun appeared on the horizon as the Angmarim’s dagger slit the Ranger’s throat. He let the dead body fall to the ground and collected his swords, he cleaned them with the dead Ranger’s clothes before stabbing him through the neck with his own sword and leaving it there as a marker.
The Dark Man collected his adversary’s spear and went to the campsite to make sure that the other Ranger was dead. Feeling satisfied he made to leave, but the caw of a raven made him stop and turn his head North. The corvid landed on the ground and cawed again lifting a leg. The man leaned closer and saw a small tube tied to it, as soon as he untied it the raven flew away. The Angmarim read the letter and smiled, that smile broke his dry lips, but he didn’t care. This was a good day.
