The Black Steel

 A somewhat strong, but chilly, gust of wind blew straight into his face, messing his hair and making him turn his head to the side, to avoid it passing by his ears. It always irritated Grimhaleth, the cold wind in his ears. It was late in the morning and he was walking for the most of it, the long plains of Rohan seem even longer if one tries to walk them.

And we are going on and on Southwards. We are in the heart of Rohan according to the maps. Saw the Horse-lords firsthand, the moving trees that attack, the orcs and their wargs and even more, mounted orcs that fight fiercely. I saw how divided the Horse-lords are and what makes them leave their home, to come to Bree, Ha!.

They had made it to Gaeded’s home town of Stoke under the worst of conditions. It became apparent that the Eorling was finding that her home was changed since she last returned. The building stress was making Lieta nervous about staying, but the Eorling wanted to continue their journey from Bree. It also wasn’t helping that Athlenah was getting homesick after she and three others of the company were captured and beaten in Dunland.

He approached the inn and before reaching the door he stopped and looked around, the helmet on his head was covering most of his face, making it hard to see his face. He took advantage of that and pretended to stretch while looking around. He wanted to see if anyone was watching him, maybe no one in particular, maybe someone in particular. It was two or three days that he received the letter, so he was certain that Anriett would be around.

It had taken him three years to earn how to be quiet and manage to scout, not that decently, since he never was one to stay out of sight and hide and watch, but he decided he had to, not he had to. Fiontann stood on a small hill among some trees in the middle of an uknown land, one that he has only seen in maps and has heard of by an old friend, Pren.

After a hard day's work the evening found Fiontann laying his hammock and contemplating, in his right hand he had his pipe, a thick cloud of smoke was around him and on the ground a big jar of ale. Every now and then he'd reach for the jar to take a sip before laying back again to smoke, it was a clear sky, but slightly cold, autumn is close and it starts to show. Fion laid there enjoying the quiet and his drink, looking at the stars and hearing the neekerbreekers' noises from the other side of Chetwood. A good night, pleasant.

Dear Gaeded,

I have read your letter and I have contemplated over the matter despite knowing what the answer will be write away.

The man finally reached Esteldin on foot, he lost about five hours playing hide and seek with the orcs and the men that were after him. Now he was covered in blood and exhausted, yet, he reached the settlement. He had to be cunning and take them out before they'd return and report him bearing these news, they would expect the Rangers and all would be lost. He held the reins of his loyal steed as he entered the ruined gate of the settlement and kept going on. The two men on watch noticed that he was panting and approached him at once, one took the reins and the other spoke.