Rangers

The three friends and the dozens of other Warriors might have just encountered Shelob but the joy and glory of having no casualties did not last lore. Almost immediately after they left Shelob's Lair they found themselves in the unending darkness of Mordor once again. And their next step would be Agarnaith. As they moved through Dor Amarth, they met with two other groups and raided not only the orc encampment of Fushaum Tum but several more other encampments of the minions of the Enemy.

Elveaner, Tyelcie and Yonas returned to the Ironspan and made a full investigation, discoveries of great importance were made. These had ramifications far beyond the region, so it seemed prudent to commit the findings to writing immediately. The intention was to deposit one copy with Yrjana back in Suri Kyla and another with a Ranger if any could be found in the region.

Torchanar paused in his stride, sniffing the crisp winter air. It was faint, so very faint that he thought it might be a trick of his senses. Parting his lips, he inhaled deeply, using the trick to increase the sensitivity of smell. There it was. A trace of the odor of burning. It might have been missed by orc or ordinary men, but Torchanar was Dunedain and his senses well tuned to the natural world.

The sun had traveled past its noon mark when Lhachiel passed the first stones of the ruins. Her arrival had hailed some isolated warm greetings, yet predominantly raised eyebrows, the latter among those who had only heard, not ever crossed path with her. The sight of a woman bearing arms as readily as the men congregated within these ruins, was an unusual one, and Lhachiel was all too aware of this while trying not to show any signs of unease.

A pair of dark grey eyes peered through the hood and mask, muffled steam rising with each breath as he broke a trail through the snow that gathered on the banks of the half frozen creek. It was quiet, the world crisp and white though he spotted a set of deer tracks that lead to and from the water’s edge. After refilling his waterskin, he made his way back up to higher ground, where the snow thinned, blown by the howling winds that brought the breath of ice down from Forochel.

It has been some time since I set quill to this old journal. Whether out of laziness or just not wanting to read my own thoughts, I can't tell. I have time now, laying in bed so here it goes.