Rangers

After stopping the envoy from reaching their destination we returned to Ost Guruth and there we happened upon more we have now named companions, Estenthel and Vaedairon have taken to aiding us. Both of whom we found within the keep of the Eglains.

The road was long and his pace slow as he was passing around the mountains, between which the orcs had their camps and Fiontann walked around them quietly, he had left Hedinn in Trestlebridge and made his way on foot so that he would leave less tracks behind him. Now the way back seemed longer than it was when he traveled towards Kingstead. The river was cold but luckily for him he found some shallow spots to avoid being too long in it and as soon as he reached the other side he made a small camp to dry out before setting off again, even a small cold could mean death out there.

Bill Ferny and the Squint-Eyed Southerner.

These are names that I have heard in passing as I venture the markets here in Bree, neither spoken kindly of.

It has become more frequent again.
Half-blood Dunedain seem to be popping out of the ground like cabbages on a farm. 
It saddens me to see that we need to relay on these ''impure'' Dunedain for survival but it is what Halbarad wants. 
I can not blame him..... Our ranks are thinning out so quickly that becoming extinct is now a real threat. 

Amdarath and Galrondor were standing near the bridge in Meluinen, looking at the map, making notes and routes on it.

-We will get here and raid them, their force doesnt''seem too strong but looks can be deceiving. said the Ranger to the Elf, Galrondor replied and drew two lines left and right of their destination.

His silent steps took him close to an abandoned farm and he stood next to the wooden wall of the house, motionless, listening to the wind which was blowing softly into Kingsfell, the sun was setting and the sound of a cow was heard from afar. The Elf lifted his head a little to listen even more carefully and then suddenly and with three quick steps he grabbed the ledge of the roof of the house with his right hand and leaped up, landing on the roof and kneeling on it, that moment a group of men passed near the house.

The brass tool poked the logs into the fire to allow it to breathe and become stronger into the freplace, the fire crackeda s if satisfied and burned stronger. The satisfied Hobbit then hanged the poker on the nail that protrudes from the fireplace and turned around victoriously to face his wife, as if he did something hard.

So here I am, Tinnudir after all those years. This place means much to me as this is the only place I really call home. It might be weird for a traveller like me to call 'a town' home but I was born here. Many years passed since I last have seen the Nenuial Lake and walked these paths. Yet I have no time to enjoy it all. We will leave this town in the morning and sail towards the ancient city of Annuminas. So many things to do and not enough time for anything. It makes me sad but I know that someday I will return and settle down in these lands.