The smell of blood, and the sounds of battle stirred the Rohirrim from his sleep. His damaged armor held dents and cuts from when his home was destroyed. It was still hard for him to get over, but now wasn't the time for self pity. It was time for action, and luckily a chance at revenge for his families deaths.
Looking out of his cell, he could see a ranger. His cloak hiding most of him as the flash of steel showed the skill of the man. The young Rohirrim didn't waste time asking for help. He saw the key-ring on a nearby dead bandit. It's chest hosting a deep and mortal wound. He reached, thanking whatever god was listening for this chance.
Growling in pain as his hand was stepped on by the bandit that was fighting the ranger, The young Rohirrim grabbed his ankle with his free hand. Pulling it towards him causing the bandit to fall. Hitting his head on the edge of the rangers sword. With his hand free, he worked to unlock the gate. Rubbing the stepped on hand as he grabbed a sword.
"Thank you. Where am I?" where the first words the young man spoke. The cloaked ranger had a mask on, so only his eyes showed under the dark hood. "You're in Bree-lands. From your armor I would say you were from Rohan. I could use your aid as payment for your release."
The Rohirrim shrugged his shoulders as he sighs. " I'm Ramyr Havenwolf, of Rohan. May as well get the dept paid off now. What will you have me do?" He discarded the damaged armor and picked up a shield. The broken plates of metal serving to only bite into his skin.
"I came looking for hobbits that was taken a fortnight ago. I fear the worst and I can't cover this entire camp. Help me find them and escort them to safety and we can consider your dept paid. They would looks naught but children to your eyes."
Sounds simple enough, Ramyr thought, pushing some hair out of his face. "Alright. We'll meet at the main gate." With that they went in different directions. The ranger going out the way he came and Ramyr heading out the only other door. His eyes looking for them amongst the dead, or those he helped free from their cells.
It wasn't long before Ramyr found what he was searching for. The pair of hobbits helping a wounded ranger to the exit of the main gate. He rushed over and slid the sword carefully under his belt. "I'm not here to hurt you. I am Ramyr of Rohan. What happened?"
As if to answer his question, he heard a screech behind him. Hollow and horrid as dread came over him. Causing him to freeze as he heard the hollowed words, but not understanding the language it was spoken in.
It wasn't until the ranger that saved him earlier came with a bright torch brought him out of his stupor. Chasing the Ring-Wraith away as he looked to the group. "We can tend to him in the town near by. But we must hurry." Ramyr helped the ranger of the north carry the man to the town. Traveling for a night before finally catching his first breath of freedom when they reached the town.
"Now isn't the time to rest. We have much to do, but first, go get armor and let me know when you're ready to get started." The ranger reminded the black haired warrior. With a simple nod, Ramyr started to go to the market place.
