Wandering Purposefully - Chapter 1

The man wandered on, watching the roads from a fair distance as not to be spotted. He walks purposefully without hesitation. Hooded, concealed and mysterious. He is clad in Olive. Except his tall, rough and worn boots, fastened accordingly. The bow upon his back, well-kempt and frequently used. Like the sword, hanging readily from his hip. The knife, awaiting its uses on his belt. He strides swiftly, covering much ground as he walks, unseen by many. But watching. He pulls the hood down over his eyes to keep his identity hidden as he aproaches the Ruins of Ost Barandor. He reaches up, absent mindedly to the brooch fastening his cloak below his chin, he whispers comfortingly to himself in a soft but foreign tongue. He clambers religously up the many steps, ignoring the boars and bears as he approaches the edge of the ruin. He gazes out, scanning the valley with keen eyes. Searching for something that should not be. He pricks his ears. Seemingly listening as he hears a soft shuffle of curious and afraid footsteps. The sound stops and he returns to watching the horizon. His eyes slowly darting between the Brandywine Bridge and The Greenway. His studying gaze then drops to the floor. Where he crouches studying the tracks left where he was stood, not a few inches before his own. They are small, and fresh. He runs his hand over them, in an attempt to determine whose, or what tracks they are. Again, another shuffle, his hand moves slowly to the hilt of his sword as he stands, pressing his back silently against the pillar as he slides around it. There before him, a small, skeletal woman without purpose it seems. Hooded also, a blunt dagger on her belt. She shakes gently with obvious fear. The man removes his hand cautiously from his swords hilt. "Hmm, I have seen you before, have I not?" the Ranger says as he recognises the fraile woman as the one who had been watching him from behind the barrels. "M-Maybe" The woman Wimpers. The conversation continued, slowly and abruptly. Few words shared. The womans fear of the man remaining obvious. The awkwardness of his prescene shown in her uncomfortable movements. The Ranger gazes out and over the fields as he speaks softly, giving his word that he means her no harm. She does not believe him and aks his purpose. Obviously, The Ranger says nothing. After a time, he must leave and bows his head, learning of her troubles, deeply and strangely concerned for the withering lady. He sets off again. Watching the roads as he makes his way carefully and purosefully towards the border of his homeland. Finding nothing of interest or to be worried of. Except what he had learnt from the woman, not hours ago. It sits in his mind, curiously eating away at him as he ponders her words. He stops, resting as he lays beneath a tree, out of sight, but where he can see what is happening upon the Borders of Evendim and The Shire. He drifts into a silent, uneasy sleep, ready to be awoken if need be.