Ranger

It seems to me the exiles of the Riddermark might feel it in themselves to take up the burden of defending lands that are not their own.
If you have men whose sword you will trust in, meet me at dusk at the large boulder in the dried-out riverbed. We shall talk there and then.

On sprinted the Noldo-maiden toward the Camp of Ruidhriel. Her true intent known to none but herself, she smiled in the rising light. Dawn broke freshly over the threshold of the red-coloured stones of Sirannon, the rocky hills and tall gargantuan boulders towering over the small, slender, yet rather broad-shouldered figure who was sprinting at her own balanced pace towards the discoloured and worn tent of Ruinedhriel. She could see the smoke from the campfire wafting over the red sky of Hollin, and finally her feet came to a stop before Ruidhriel.

Minyelaire's hand reached into the grey fur of Radbug. What a good companion he was. His nose had led her right where she wanted to go. Her blood-red lips set a slight kiss on the beasts snout, whose tail swings from one side to the other. The Avar can make out Daerundros, to her surprise Nimlith... but where is the ranger?

In slow motion, Daerundros beheld the chaos-of-an-argument happening before her. Her eyes flicked towards her counterpart Minyelaírë as her left hand shot up to the small and readied hand crossbow on her side. With a swift movement, less than a second, she had fired it. Amlarad staggered as the bolt cleanly penetrated his thigh. He grimaced in severe pain and doubled over, helpless on the snow.

Anger. Anger and Fury. The Woman looked at the lake once more and cursed to herself in Sindarin. Her worthless band had failed to show up consecutively now, and their absence drove her mad with fury and longing for companionship. Her friendship with Furlaf had faded, and even her relationship with Boen was going downhill. Only Cyneburga was her only friend.

Third Age 2998, The Sunken City of Annúminas

The rain fell heavily on the broken stone of the old ruins, a section of fallen roof and rubble had made a small man-made cave in which I crouched beside the small fire. The fire was small enough not to produce too much smoke or light and it had been built within a convenient alcove in a broken section of wall, a slab of marble had been pulled over to block any of it’s light being visible from the outside. It was essential that I remained hidden and that my hiding place was not compromised.