Hellrien loaded her things on Half Pint's back, loosened the headstall and walked the horse across the dark, empty yard towards the eastern end of the inn. Crossing the road she stopped for a second. The door of the inn opened and a square strip of light encroached upon the ground. She threw herself on the saddle. The stallion rushed forth, hooves thumping. Hellrien could hear shouts from behind her. Her steed reached the corner of the inn, then rode past the eastern end and kept galloping towards north. The Forsaken Inn fell behind, in front of them spread the wilderness like a churning, black sea.
Hellrien trusted Half Pint's insticts and allowed the animal to gallop freely, reins loose. The sand beneath them was hard, the terrain wold. She couldn't hear anything that indicated they were being followed, but didn't want to take any risks either, so she allowed Half Pint to run north until the darkness started to fade. Only then she allowed Half Pint to slow down to easy trot. The sky was slowly turning pale in the east. It was as if the high ridges were deterring the sun from rising. She could hear the sound of rushing river ahead. It had to be the Midgewater Pass. The river streamed in the bottom of a deep gorge and it took Hellrien a while to find a safe route down there. The edges of the river had dried up, and the bottom was filled with round stones and sand. She steered Half Pint through where the bottom was as hard as possible so they wouldn't leave any tracks.
After a while she rode up again and begun reining Half Pint eastwards. She rode across three ridges when she saw a big camp in the bottom of a valley below. She recognized the style of the tents from the pictures she had seen in the Stronghold. Orcs. She had to get around them somehow, over that ridge to the east. That high peak behind it had to be the Weathertop.
But the ridge was too steep to climb from this side, especially if she didn't want to abandon Half Pint. The only way she could think of lead through the valley, where they were in a big risk to be spotted by the orcs. She pondered the problem for a while. She couldn't continue farther north, the terrain there was much too difficult for a horse. She couldn't go back either. West was out of the question - she needed to get to Ost Guruth somehow.
Finally she decided to take the risk - take her chances with the orcs. She reined Half Pint diagonally down the slope, staying as far from the camp as she possibly could. The coarse, grating voices from the orc encampment made her skin crawl.
It felt like the longest journey she had ever made, but finally she found a path across the ridge and the orc camp fell behind the back of the ridge. She had barely managed to pull in a deep breath of relief, when her muscles tensed again. She smelled smoke. Quickly she jumped off her horse, crouched down and peered down the edge of a precipice to her right. There was another camp there. Hellrien clenched her bow, squinting her eyes to see better. There was a campfire, and a horse - only one horse. And a man - only one man. Servant of Angmar or the White Hand? Perhaps - but something made her doubt it. Servants of darkness would not be here alone. Something about the man's earth-toned cloak and hood made her think of the Rangers. The site was perfect for someone who wanted to stay out of sight. It was deep, covered by a thicket from north and east and a sheltering rock face to the south.
She decided to take the risk. She mounted Half Pint and carried on a slow, steady pace down the winding path - ready to jump off as the path circled over a sheltering knot and the camp came into view.
The man jumped up, kicked earth on the fire to put it off and took cover behind a large rock.
”Who goes there?” A nervous, alert voice.
Hellrien halted Half Pint and said in a calm, soothing, quiet tone:
”Easy! I'm a friend.”
The man peered over the rock suspiciously. ”Get off the horse. Walk it over here... slowly! No sudden movements.”
Hellrien did as she was told. When she stood next the rock the man motioned her to stop.
”Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
Hellrien took another risk. If he was a Ranger, chances were he had heard of the Sworn Brotherhood.
”My name's Hellrien. I'm from the Sworn Brotherhood. Have you heard of Dorvairse Ordthain? Burwod?”
The man looked at her from head to toe and seemed to relax just a little bit. He still seemed a bit fidgety, but Hellrien started to think it was the default state for this man. Staying too long here, in the midst of goblins and orcs, would do that to anyone.
”I have heard of them”, the man admitted. ”I am Candaith, a Ranger. What brings you to the foot of Weathertop?”
”I have a mission from the Brotherhood. Dorvairse has gone missing, but may have left a clue of his whereabouts in Ost Guruth.” She didn't see the point of getting too much into detail with this man.
”Ost Guruth? You must be lost then. Ost Guruth is a day's ride to east, along the Great East Road to the south. It's the fastest, safest route.”
Hellrien hesitated. She didn't feel safe enough to try and explain what had happened in the Forsaken Inn. ”Let's just say that I have my reasons to want to avoid the Great East Road for now.”
Candaith shrugged, seemingly content to let the matter drop. ”You are choosing a dangerous route, then. You will find your way to Ost Guruth by following the mountain range too. Avoid the fortress of Naerost and the hills of Amon Ros. You are welcome to stay here with me if you or your horse need to rest. Can you keep watch for a few hours? I have not slept in a while.”
Hellrien looked over her shoulder. The sky was grey with heavy clouds. It started raining - surely a rare occurrence in the Lone-Lands. She sat on the stone next to Candaith.
”Sure.”
