Glorsirel wearily approached the campfire at dusk. She had spent the whole day travelling, bringing messages to rangers far and wide, and she was exhausted. Trastoron hailed her and demanded her business, which she gave quickly. She had a summons to him from Aranarion. Trastoron quickly read the message explained to his companion Díneniel the contents and then invited her to share their camp for the night.
“Come have a seat, I am sure a messenger such as yourself is quite unfit to be on your own in the wilds.” he said mockingly.
“On the contrary, I have made many camps alone.”
“Bah, you’re not a real ranger. You don’t know half of what you are doing. You’ll never be a real ranger, you are completely unfit for such a life as this.”
Glorsirel glared at him but remained silent. In a few things he was correct, she did not relish the idea of camping in the area on her own. There were rumours of ghosts too numerous to be completely discounted. Something might well prowl in the wilds and there is safety in numbers.
“You carry ranger weapons, but you have to actually be able to use them for that to be any use.” He continued “We real rangers do the important work protecting the local peasants and those who cannot protect themselves. You will never amount to anything more than a messenger.”
“One day I will finish my training and become a full ranger, but for now, I am most needed as a messenger.” Glorsirel desperately tried to believe the words, but it had been several years since her training had halted, no one had stepped up to continue it.
“Oh, I’m sure they tell you that the messenger is a noble calling.” Trastoron sneered. “It is needed, so I suppose they might as well put you to it. We should not truly expect you to be a full ranger, you will never manage that.”
“I could manage it, and I will.” Glorsirel snapped her face turning vibrant red. “It is not my fault that circumstances were such that my training came to an abrupt end before I had learned all that is necessary.”
“Oh yes, an end that is probably permanent. I suggest you stop trying to be a ranger. Some people are better suited to lesser callings, such as that of a messenger, farmer or tailor.”
Glorsirel stalked over to the fire greeting Díniel who merely grunted in response. Every attempt at speaking with her only resulted in single word responses, and eventually on this too Glorsirel gave up.
“The life of a messenger is not so bad I suppose. Warm fires you did not make, food you did not hunt and nice hikes every day.” Trastoron said.
“If you think it is easy, perhaps you ought to try it.” Glorsirel responded. Why was he being this aggravating? Did he truly not know the dangers and difficulties messengers faced?
“Oh sure, sure. A good useful ranger like me would be wasted on messenger duty.” he laughed and pulled a few letters from his pack “Perhaps when you have finished this errand you could deliver a few letters for me.”
Glorsirel sighed and took the papers, she could not really decline, he was, unfortunately, her superior and they both knew it.
“Well, I think Díniel will take first watch and I will take third, which leaves second watch to you. If you hear anything or get scared in the night be sure to wake one of us though.” He said patronizingly.
Glorsirel debated for a long moment what to do. “I thank you for the kind offer.” She began sarcastically “However, I will be spending the night alone I think.”
He looked at her in surprise “Really? You think you can survive out there on your own? You will never amount to anything. The world out there is scary if you do not have someone to protect you.”
Glorsirel sighed and packed up her belongings. She could not stomach spending the night with the silent Díniel and taunting Trastoron so face the barrow wights and other dangers was her lot.
She set out quickly and purposely ignoring Trastoron’s parting taunts “Come back here when you get scared of the barrow wights, we can protect you.” And “I suppose you are not really to be blamed for your incompetence; just be grateful we have given you any job.”
She set out east, towards the next ranger she was to deliver the message to. She walked for an hour or so before setting about trying to light a fire. The wood was wet and would not light, which bothered her more than it ought to have. Fire would have been a welcome comfort, the wind sighed, and small animals scuttled about. She fought with the fire for a time, but it was a fruitless endeavor she finally gave up on. She settled her bedroll and prepared herself to sleep.
The ground she was on was uncomfortable, the shapes in the dark leered at her the shadows shifting and changing. She jumped at every sound and began to hear, or believe she heard voices in the wind. She tried to convince herself she was being foolish, no evil dwelt within these tombs everything was rumour. She dozed fitfully throughout the night, one hand on her sword. Two hours before dawn she roused fully and looked around realising what had woken her, two wolves sat nearby staring at her. She stood up and reached for her bow. As she stood the wolves howled and trotted off but still she knew she could sleep no more that night. She hoisted her pack and continued to the east. Exhaustion clung to her as she fought the nagging doubt that something was following her. A branch snapped, surely it was just a rabbit? She stumbled over a tomb twisting her ankle, and she gasped in pain. She stopped, took a deep breath and forced herself to look around. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, she stood listening for a moment and heard nothing but the wind howling. For comfort she began to recite an old poem to herself quietly.
Upon the heights and in the depths
We ever singing shall endure
Roaming far with stalwart steps
Until our homeland is secure.
Steadied a little she kept walking. At last the sun rose, strengthened she strode on through the day, leaving the tombs behind, hopefully forever.
