Dawn, somewhere in Breeland. The more he rode onward, the more he lost track of the days. The Greenway was a path he had tread a great deal of times in his travels, though every time he repeated the feat, it just seemed to grow all the more dull. As the sun rises high above the mountainside, the rays of dawn struggle to penetrate through the thick branches and leaves of the haunted forest whose shade he enjoyed so much. The first songbirds fluttered their wings and nimbly spun in air, circling and chasing each other playfully like young lovers on the meadow. Animals woke from their deep slumber and small critters crawled from their hiding places after having successfully survived another spring night of hunt from predators. The warbling song of birds provided much-needed company on the road for many travelers, breaking the monotony of hooves clattering against the old, mossy cobble road -- for the Greenway itself was old.. much older than some of the Bree-folk would give it credit for -- and had thus gradually fallen more and more into a state of decay and disrepair. Despite this, it had proven that it could hold its namesake proudly; nature had slowly started to reclaim it. Dirt-covered once thrice-trodden cobble slabs, plants had found ways to sprout their seed from between its wide cracks, sprawling in overgrowth. But this apparent state of misery did not bother the traveling man either. He pressed on with great haste - for he had already made his obligation wait for long enough. His dog rode with him atop a black and white spotted steed at great pace, held tightly by its master, though seemingly enjoying the ride thoroughly. Perhaps it had been used to this.
Once the shade of the Old Forest no longer provided them comfort but a reason for concern, the traveling trio took a detour eastwards, through the shapely green hills and the comely lush flowerbeds. They raced through the bushes and the yellow fields of wheat, through abandoned farms and former campsites whose hearths had long been quenched by torrents of falling rain, ruins so old that they were neglected even by the scholarly folk of Bree - until they finally beat the onset of the mid-day heat and arrived close to the vast forest of Chetwood.
Then, after a short trek up some hills, they happened upon a small waterfall.. and it was there that they stopped. Beyond the stream lays an acre of land, somewhat neglected by its owner. The wooden fence had collapsed in part, the flowers and flora spread uncontrollably - and even the old fig tree, whose branches were once religiously cut with every swing of the season, now rose to dominate over the courtyard. The only thing that seemed to hold up in the test of time was the old well, nestled in the corner, with moss being its only show of wear.. and perhaps a small storehouse close to the house itself. Ned's steed gently parted the waters as it tread across carefully, and the splashes of its hooves echoed through the quiet forest.
The home was modest in stature and size; enough to accommodate what one would think was a small family. The weary traveller had finally reached the end of his long and hard journey. With a click of his tongue, his hound sprang from atop the steed and onto the ground.. for its age and despite its deteriorating eyesight, it still seemed as athletic and capable as its master, who followed suit in disembarking from the tired horse. He let it by the reins closer to the house and eventually let go of them, leaving the steed and its friend to roam freely around the yard without care or worry.
Before he could finish ascending the steps, the door swung open. From it rushed a small child, probably around six to seven winters old. "Uncle Ned!" she cried loudly and with great glee flung herself to wrap around the tall wanderer's leg. With a deep chuckle, he grinned wide and gently pried the girl away, only to kneel and give her a more meaningful embrace.
Before he could utter anything, the girl's eyelids fluttered open and focused on the dark brown hound, resting in the shade closeby its equine friend. Her heartbeat paced out of her chest and her smile grew wider than the Anduin itself, and with a strong call, she pushed herself from the embrace and skipped down the steps of the home, sprinting towards the dog. "Barkus, Barkus!" she cried out until she no longer had a voice to cry out with. The dog happily accepted the affection; for even in its advanced age, the love of something so pure could not do anything else but force it to do so. With a small smile and a shake of his head, he turns back to face the door. There he is met with another figure standing before it, a younger teen amidst his adolescence, around seventeen or so winters on his back.
He is much more silent, his reaction differing quite a bit from his sibling. With a small, weary smile he extends a hand - and as he does, the smile grows even wider. "We were starting to think you'd never come.." he admits in a small murmur. The older man opposite tilts his head with an almost apologetic smile crawling on his lips. "I have had quite a few things happen as of late.." he explains, gripping the hand tightly and giving it a firm shake, before dragging it suddenly into an embrace. He laughs, giving the tall boy a few firm pats on the back. Eventually, he pulls back and looks at him with a more serious expression, his tone matching it; "How is your mother?"
--
The pair soon wandered into the home. It had seen better days, that much is for certain, as not many of the objects around them were organized with aesthetics In mind; rather than pure practicality or simply conceded to utter chaos. Eventually, they reach a small bedroom, and Ned stops by the side of the door's frame, peering inside with pursed lips and furrowed brows. If one had to try and read his emotions at that moment fully, not much else was clear other than one; concern. The woman that rested on the soft bed seemed to be in her mid to late forties, her beauty still apparent to the bare eye even in her current sorry state. Her once beautiful creamy skin had shifted to a sickly pale white, her raven black hair spotted with strands of white and gray. She had grown ever-slimmer, disease gnawing away at what little energy reserves she had left. Ned scrunched his nose, his cheekbone twitching ever-so-slightly. "Wait here." he instructed Carsten -- and soon returned with a small brown bag retrieved from his own personal possessions. "Brew this, dip it into tea, and give it to your mother.". Ned then departed for the courtyard again, much weighing his mind.
He had a small look around. Indeed, there was much work to be done still, and the scorching sun was upon them. But time pressed him hard and he needed to act as fast and efficiently as he could.
First came the turn of the torn-down fence, with the Ranger determined to restore it to its former glory. Ned picked up the tools and headed towards the outskirts of the property. They were old, yet they bore memories. The heat of the impending summer set in the closer they got to mid-day, but that did not hold back Ned from continuing to work. The sun climbed ever higher in the sky as Ned worked, sweat trickling down his brow. He reached the point where his shirt became somewhat of a chafing burden on his chest, and so he hung it on the fence by his side and simply pressed on with the task at hand. As the hours passed, he had soon laid new foundations dug in to the earth for the fence posts to neatly nestle in to. This was by no means easy labour; however, Ned himself had trained his body throughout the years not by any conventional means, but by exactly performing this type of labour.
His muscles had a balanced and toned physique, well-defined but not overly large, giving the image of strength and agility without the heaviness. His firm and sculpted chest heaved up and down as hours of tiring work finally settled in and took their toll, a small silver amulet-like pendant hanging straight down the middle of his thorax, looped around a crudely hand-woven rope. Every once in a while he took small breaks to admire his work but did not stay and rest for too long.
As the old hound was chased around by an overenthusiastic girl, Ned and [eventually] Carsten worked tirelessly to set the fence upright again. As the hours passed, close to late afternoon, the fence stood sturdy once more. Ned took a step back to admire his handiwork before resting - his work having been done for the day. The next day, early before the crack of dawn, he started to trim and chop away at some of the smaller trees, bushes, and other floral pests, clearing the garden by the start of breakfast, though he could never have done it without the aid of the little girl; who rose with him at that early hour and chipped in by bringing him food, coffee and other delicacies during his work.
"How long do you plan to stay, uncle Ned?" She asked with a smile.
"A few days, at most." the man replied as he swung the hatchet at some branches he felled earlier.
"Are you taking Barkus with you when you leave?"
"Of course I will, young Rose." he muttered as he continued to work, trying his best to answer with the fewest possible words, maintaining his focus on yard-work.. if one could call such a gigantic work load that.
"But -- why can we not keep him here? We have a big yard, food-.. and mother will take good care of him, when she gets better. I promise!"
"Barkus is an old dog. He grew up roaming the forests and the wild. I would dare say that he seldom likes change. Besides, would you truly dare separate him from his horse-friend? They oft never leave each other's sides."
"We can keep the horse too! We have space!" she nods, confirming this thought in her mind as the best possible outcomes for all parties involved. Ned chuckles and stands, giving the girl's hair a small ruffle. "When you grow old, you will better understand the gift of companionship that these animals give -- and you will find and rescue your own, giving them a place to call home."
He gives her one last pat on the head before turning to whistle at the younger man, who had undertaken a great deal of the work that Ned had not yet picked up. He beckons him over. "Come, let me show you something!" he exclaims with a small cough, scrunching his nose. And so they talked - and the man imparted all the knowledge he could upon the boy for yet another time, for it was no easy task maintaining a property of that size without being overburdened, especially when one is as young as he. "Patience, a virtue that your father never possessed, yet he bid me to teach it to you." he used to jest. And so the second day passed, and the third pushed on until it had passed also -- and when the fourth had arrived, much of the work had already been done, and the time had come to bid farewell. Ned straddled his horse after he had helped Barkus on to the neck of the steed, looking over his shoulder at the family. "Uncle Ned -- when will you come back?" The girl asked with great sadness in her voice. "Soon, little one. Listen to your brother and take good care of your mother. And remember all that I taught you." he assures the both of them with a wide smile. He handed down a small bag akin to that he had delivered at the start of his visit to Carsten. "Give this to your mother until she feels better. Brew it 'neath the flame and pour it into cups of tea, thrice a week." he instructed.
When he is satisfied, Ned spurred onwards and out of the courtyard - much prettier and tidier than when he had found it. His path took him up the hill, scaling the waterfall that overlooked the home. When he arrived he rode upon a small mound of stones stacked together, a mysterious symbol etched on to the water-beaten rock surface behind them. He smiled. His chest rose to suck in what he felt was all the air around him before falling down to lead it out through his nostrils.
"I am late, old friend." He murmurs under his breath, reaching for the amulet hung over his chest. He gently pries it from the rope with a small tug, snapping the loop that held it around his neck. Ned tosses it at the foot on the stone mound, where many more similar signets were found, some rusty, others buried in the dirt, others having been exposed by the shifting winds. He purses his lips and mutters a small prayer 'neath his lips.
His promise had been upheld.
How many friends, comrades, and relatives had he buried?
Only he remained to help those they left behind.
His path takes him to Cardolan, his home. He has another grave to tend to there.
