The road down into the Ranger camp was short; she did not even need to watch her step as she followed the nearly dried-out riverbed down into the gully. Her heart was pounding in her chest with every step she came closer to the camp. She felt strangely annoyed at that. She was trying to make a good impression, after all! Giving herself a push to walk straighter, she set her eye firmly on the end of the road, where she expected the camp to come into view soon.
"And where do you think you're going?"
She nearly jumped out of her clothes.
There was a man - no, she corrected herself, a youth perhaps five years older than her sitting in the shadows under a large boulder near the road, his face and body hidden under a large grey cloak making him almost invisible. She had not noticed him. He had been so silent!
Scrambling to gather her wits, she looked at him, hoping he would take her confused stare for a self-confident gaze. "I am going to the Ranger camp. To sign up."
She tried to focus on him, to keep her gaze steady and calm despite her rushing pulse. "I have a letter of recommendation, for Captain Berengil."
The young man nodded, standing up and holding out a hand expectantly. "Give it to me."
"No." She knew how this was going. "I will give it to the captain."
She pulled the letter away from him, shaking her head.
He did not react, his hand still open. "The captain is busy. I will see that it reaches him."
"You will bring me to him." She was decided to stand her ground, as she was instructed to.
"Don't be silly, lad. Do you think the captain has nothing better to do than be interrupted by noble brats who believe they can be Rangers? He'll get your letter, I can promise you that. You can wait here."
"My name is Idhrial. And I will speak to the captain, please." She shook her head again, carefully keeping her voice level.
"You will give that letter to me or no-one, lad."
"I will give it to the captain or no-one."
He stared at her, frowning. Then he broke eye contact, looking away disinterestedly.
"The captain is busy."
This was also expected. She waited calmly, not giving in, standing where he had stopped her. She counted the seconds, spending the time looking over the Ranger.
He was perhaps five years her senior, she guessed, his body was strong and sinewy from living in the wilderness. Something in his eyes and wild gaze reminded her of her father.
That thought made her relax a little. She had nothing to fear from these men, she reminded herself.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he turned back to her and nodded.
"Fine. Follow me then." He looked up into the trees and whistled a signal.
A rustle in the trees, followed by a repeat signal, answered him.
She looked up, surprised.
"Jay, hold the post for me, will you?"
The Ranger in the trees nodded and vanished into the foliage.
The guard started walking, without waiting for his guest, striding down the path with long steps. She hurried to follow.
Idhrial looked around stealthily as they walked through the camp. It felt smaller and less proud than she had expected, barely a scattering of grey-cloth tents crouching under a protected overhang situated slightly uphill from the bottom of the gorge. There were no palisades, no flags flying proudly in the wind, nor in fact any sign that these were the fabled King's men. She could not help a slight feeling of disappointment looking at the weathered tents, the seemingly haphazard arrangement of the camp, the muddy colours of everything surrounding her.
Throughout the camp men were gathered in small groups, working, cooking, chopping wood or tending to fires and tents. Most seemed to be barely older than her - she realised her guide must in fact be one of the older Rangers, if Rangers they were. None seemed to pay them any particular attention; in fact most of them seemed extremely caught up in their tasks, as if they feared being found slacking.
They were not challenged until they had almost reached the center of the camp. A man sat guard at a small brazier next to the entrance of a larger tent. He seemed ragged even by the general standard of the camp, snow-white hair spilling from his head onto the grey cloak around his shoulders. The cloak, however, was clasped with a silver star - a star matching the one Idhrial herself carried hidden under her shirt. He looked up from the fire he was poking with a charred stick at the pair approaching him with a surprisingly dark eyes.
The young Ranger saluted, then indicated Idhrial. "Says he has a letter for the captain."
The man nodded, got up without a word and vanished into the tent behind him. The Ranger turned to her and pushed her forward. "In you go, lad."
She turned, head held high, and entered into the darkness of the tent.
Inside the tent, looking towards her, a tall man with the fine features of a Gondorian nobleman above an impressive beer belly sat behind a low table. On the table she could spot rolls of maps, a closed inkwell and some quills. Nothing of those things gave her particularly much of an insight in the mind of the man, she decided. The ragged man who had entered the tent before her was taking up post next to the tent entrance, apparently standing guard.
"Well?" the man behind the table demanded.
"Got another prospective, it seems," the ragged man croaked.
The man behind the desk looked her over from head to toe without moving. Only when he had finished did he cross his arms and straighten his back.
"No. Absolutely not."
She looked at him, waiting until her voice was steady until she spoke.
"I will only speak to the commander."
"You are speaking to him."
She allowed herself a small smile, to herself.
"You are not the commander. He is."
She pointed to the ragged man in the corner.
Both men frowned at her, affronted. "What makes you say such a thing?"
"Well..."
She shrugged, giving up on the script she had prepared.
"In fact, because my father told me you would do that. But you are Commander Berengil." She nodded, looking back and forth between the ragged man in the corner and the one behind the desk. "He told me to look at what I see, not what I think I see. The commander is older than my father, and he -" indicating the man at the table - "is not. Your cloak is of too good quality to be standard issue. And he glanced at you for approval as I entered the tent."
They kept their cold stare, not speaking. She felt her heart pounding into her throat, but forced herself again to stand and wait.
Finally she wavered, not able to hold their gaze any more. She turned away with a shudder.
I've screwed it up, she thought.
Then the ragged man spoke. "Your father, hm? And who would that be?"
She looked up again, surprised to see a not unfriendly twinkle in his eye.
"He was called Grimm, when he was wearing the Grey... mylord," she added, convinced now that she had been right. "He taught me of your customs."
"Don't know a Grimm. Do you, Glav?" The man looked over to the other, who shook his head.
She swallowed. "I am Idhrial of Thelion." She paused, and then, because it felt like it was expected of her, she added: "I want to join the Rangers."
"Thelion, huh?" Commander Berengil looked at her, judging her up.
"I don't care," the man behind the table threw in with a dismissive gesture. "This lad's never of age. Not a speck of beard on him. No way he's old Ardagane's son."
"Look again." The commander grinned, walking to the table. "That might have a different reason than you think. Isn't it, lass?"
The young ranger who had brought her in did a double-take at her and gasped. He caught himself before barging in on their conversation, but the older Ranger's bushy eyebrows pulled together even deeper than before. "Then it is twice no. Get out of here, lass. Go home. We have no need for washerwomen in this camp, nor for - others."
She looked at the men calmly, or tried to, but her heart raced still. She did not wish to sound like she was begging, not now. But her voice would bare come out as a whisper, however much she tried. "Ardagane had a daughter, who also bore the star for many years and without dishonor. I am her daughter."
"You don't say." The commander gave her a mirthless smile, showing many bad and missing teeth. "How is the old bastard, then?"
"I don't know. I never met him." She bit her lip, waiting to be questioned. "He fell before the Black Gate, ere I was born."
"At least she is honest." He turned to the other Ranger. "Honest, eh? What do you say to that, Glav? More than you can say of most of your other recruits."
"You can't be serious." Glav turned away, pretending to study a map on his desk.
The commander ignored him. "So, Thelion. That would make your mother the last of her line, not you. Your father's a commoner, then?"
"No." She met his gaze, attempting to make hers as calm and steely as his own. "They were both Rangers."
"Hah!"
Idhrial was starting to feel like her opponent was enjoying the conversation, that this was all part of a test, scrutinising her. She was not entirely sure she had passed it yet.
"And are they making you join the Rangers now? Or are you doing it to annoy them?"
"Neither... mylord."
He looked at her, his eyes glittering under his dark eyebrows. "Why, then?"
She smirked and gave a little shrug, holding his gaze, her head held high.
He held himself for a while, his gaze boring into hers. Then he smiled again.
"Hah! All right. If you can stand up to Glav like that as well, you might almost make a Ranger in time."
"Are you insane?" The man looked up from the map again, now openly furious. He put his feet down and stood up, his dark hair nearly brushing the top of the tent when he stood. "Gil, I am putting up with a lot here, but enough is enough." He leaned heavily onto the table, making it creak in protest. "It is bad enough that I have to baby princelings and noble lads who have never seen a boar in their lives if it wasn't chopped and prepared by a servant. The last litter sent from Gondor are still wetting their breeches at the thought of doing their own laundry. And now -" he grumbled, shooting another glare at her - "this. Do you want us to be the laughing stock of the kingdom? Does the King want us to be? Whatever happened to the memory of those who gave their lives in the war?"
The outburst seemed to hang and echo in the air between them for a while. Then the old man spoke once more, his voice softer than Idhrial had expected.
"I am sure you will do them right, Glav."
"Darn right I will." The man sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I have managed so far. But Gil - a woman, really?"
"We took in a Dwarf the other moon, did we not? The King says we must honour all who desire honour." The commander shrugged. "Now, lass. A word, between the two of us? I will let you know what I decide when I do, Glav."
"Seems to me you have already decided." The man sighed and sat back down.
Commander Berengil winked and put a large, hairy hand on Idhrial's shoulder, leading her to the side.
Then he bowed down to her conspiratorially. "You do realise this company is mostly men, do you?" he muttered, silently so the other two couldn't hear.
She nodded defiantly. She had known this was coming, at least. "Yes, Sir."
He did not stop his gaze. "And do you realise what that means, really?"
She pushed her lower lip forward, setting her jaw and answering his gaze proudly. "Yes, Sir. It means I will have to work harder than everyone else and be better than everyone else, all the time, to be considered half as good. My mother told me well enough of that."
"Did she, really?" The large man chuckled, and Idhrial felt like she had passed some kind of test, another one in too short a time. Then he fell into his serious mood again.
"She was only half right though. What you said I expect of every recruit, and so does Glav. You will see. Do what he says and you'll find you haven't had a better friend in your life... or a better teacher." He grinned and winked once more, lowering his voice another tick. "Of course, you will hate the conceited bastard every day before that, don't worry."
He caught her gaze again, his voice turning back to dead serious. "Work hard and you will find yourself treated like a Ranger, when you deserve it. Expect special treatment and you will be disappointed. Did I make myself understood?"
She nodded again. "Thank you, Sir. I will remember that."
"Good. I will not let you forget it."
She realised she was still holding the letter. "Sir?"
He took the letter and put it in his pocket without looking at it, waving at the guard. "Get our recruit fitted out, Val. Glav will put her under his wings all right, I know that. And if not... remind him that it's still me, and not him, who's in charge over who gets recruited and who doesn't, all right?"
The man nodded and saluted. "Yes, Sir."
He clapped her on the shoulder. "Now go."
