As he reaches the top of the hill, Dinenor glances down to the dell in front of him, smiling happily. ‚Arnor. For far too long have I been gone. But now I am back, beloved home.‘ The ranger looks up to the sky where the sun stands low far in the west; darkness is falling, tarnishing the silhouette of Emyn Uial in the distant south. He puts his gear and weapons down and glances around. A few moments later, he lifts his stuff up and makes his way to a small valley fitting his needs just excellent – shelter from wind and unwelcome observers.
The ranger quickly pitches up a camp, gathers brand for the night and lits a fire. He starts to prepare his meagre meal – some roasted meat and a slice of bread – and takes a waterskin out of his bundle. Dinenor takes a sip and smiles while looking down at the dell. He takes another one and bites a piece off the meat. ‚How long ago did I leave? Months…? No… at least one year, I guess…‘
He shakes his head and continues to finish his meal. In the meantime night has fallen, and the ranger looks down into the Dell once more. Something seems to catch his attention at the foot of the hill, maybe four or five hundred meters below. Down there, the flickering of a camp fire can be seen. The Dunadan harkens for a few moments, but not a single sound disturbs the silence of night.
Nonetheless he quickly decamps and buckles on his gear; soft-footed, but yet at a brisk pace he advances the other camp. As he cautiously chops his way trough the undergrowth around the camp, the ranger catches a glimpse at its resident – and he breathes a sigh. ‚Deluon… What are you doing here?!‘ he whispers to himself as he emerges out of the shadows. The young ranger wheels around, but he smiles hesitantly as he recognizes Dinenor.
‚At last, I have found you! I have been looking for you everywhere, friend! What brings you here, to the borders of our home?‘ – ‚The best decisions are made alone, Deluon. I made many of them while I wandered brumal lands in the north. But what are you doing here?‘ the ranger answers with a dead voice. He glances grimly at his kinsman. ‚I remember you making a promise to me.‘ – ‚Yes, friend. I did what you expected, I had a wary eye on them. But then I got the order to find you. I only heard rumors that you went north, so I travelled along the border…‘ – ‚Why would someone want to find me so heavily? I do not have many friends, not even among our people. You know that. Who gave that order?‘ – ‚Halbarad.‘
Dinenor glances doubtingly at his young collocutor and perks his eyebrows up. ‚Why should Halbarad send someone to find me? Our last encounter was… untoward.‘ – ‚Yes, yes… But he wants you to travel south with him – or wanted, I should say. They left a week ago. It is good to see you again, Dinenor.‘ – ‚Southwards...? Tell me everything. Get straight to the heart of it!‘
A few sentences later the situation is told and Dinenor seems enraged. ‚They have left? All of them? Arnor is unprotected? You mean to say that?!‘ – ‚Yes… No! Some remained. And I… I really wanted to go. I‘ve sworn the oath to go, haven’t I? That I would follow our chieftain to each and any end. But I had the task to find you. It is done now, but the Grey Company has left. And I was left behind…‘
Dinenor glances at Deluon and then claps his opposite’s shoulder, receipted with a incredulous glimpse. ‚You should hurry now. You were always light on your feet, but they have a lead of a few days.‘ – ‚Thank you, friend!‘
Deluon smiles, but then seems taken aback. ‚But… What about you? You are coming with me… with us, are you?‘ – ‚No. My task is to protect the north. Someone has to ward Arnor, and I favour doing this myself. Farewell, Deluon. Don’t try to explain this to Halbarad; for he would not understand my reasons. Tell him, you were not able to find me.‘
Little more than half an hour later, Dinenor is alone at the camp. Smoking a pipe, he stares into the fire, deeply in thought. Every now and then he mumbles a few words. ‚Have to find others… Fighting alone will be hopeless… I should head to Bree.‘
At break of dawn, Dinenor has left the camp. Shortly he looks inward and starts to mumble ‚Folks used to call me the lonesome wanderer; I have returned to Arnor, and to protect it I shall die, if it is required. Mind my words, foes of the north! The wrath of the Dunedain shall shatter you!‘ At a hurried pace the ranger vanishes into the wilds.
