The had traveled for nearly a day now, going at a brisk pace set by Caledorn. They only stopped to refill their water pouches once the whole time. They had gone through the forest, and were now running on a flat plain, making their way steadily northeast.
   Gerithor and Eldahir were used to such journeys. Being a ranger wasn't an easy life and they were well acquainted with having to travel long distances without much rest. Sarina, on the other hand, was getting tired. While she was quite fit for a Bree woman, she hadn't had as difficult of a life as her three companions. She stumbled occasionally, and Eldahir ran behind her to encourage her. Gerithor ran beside Caledorn. The elf seemed to barely be breaking a sweat, and was breathing regularly. It was strange to see the elf's entire face, Gerithor thought to himself. He was used to seeing the masked, mysterious Caledorn, not the young noble looking one. Caledorn wore a look of determination, and his eyes scanned ahead to find the best path.
   They were now nearing the top of a large hill. When they reached the summit Caledorn raised his hand, signaling the group to stop.
   Gerithor looked out over the land. He could make out the Ettenmoors on the horizon, their dark gloomy rocks and bare soil making the place stand out from the grassy landscape around it.
   "Are we traveling through the Ettenmoors?" Gerithor looked over at Caledorn.
   "You are. I will be leaving you before we reach them. But we will camp at the bottom of this hill tonight and I will stay with you until tomorrow." Caledorn gazed into the horizon.
   Gerithor turned to Eldahir and Sarina. Sarina was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily. Eldahir was taking a swig from his water pouch. They needed to rest, it was clear. But the bottom of the hill wasn't far off.
   Sarina, Eldahir! We're moving again," Gerithor said as he saw Caledorn take off. He followed and looked over his shoulder to see Eldahir helping Sarina up. They were soon following again and they made it to the foot of the hill by nightfall.
   They all agreed it would be unwise to build a fire in the open, so they sat in a circle and ate waybread in silence. When he was finished Gerithor went away from the group and sat alone, looking out into the night. He halfheartedly listened to the hushed conversation of his three companions.
   "We made excellent time for one day! I expected it to take at least two to reach the Ettenmoors." Eldahir said through a mouthful of bread.
   "It'll take until midday tomorrow to reach them as it is. They're further away than they appear," Caledorn said matter of factly.
   "Are the Ettenmoors as bad as the stories say?" Sarina chimed in.
   "Well, I am certain that many of the stories you've heard were tall tales, but the Ettenmoors are definitely dangerous. Most travelers go around them," Caledorn said.
   "Hmmm," Sarina said as she munched on her food.
   "Aye, the place is practically crawling with trolls, wargs, and all manner of foul beasts," Eldahir said.
   "That's an exaggeration, although there are definitely trolls and wargs wandering the moors. Like as not you'll have to fight a few before you reach the other side." Caledorn got up. "If you two will excuse me, I must talk to Gerithor for a moment." He walked over to where the young ranger was sitting and sat down next to him. Neither spoke for a moment. Finally Caledorn reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A ring.
   "Do you recognize this?" Caledorn said as he held the ring out for Gerithor to examine.
   "Can't say I do," Gerithor replied as he studied it.
   "It's one of the Seven."
   "You mean the Seven Dwarven rings?" Gerithor looked at the ring in shock.
   "Yes. The worm Aldernari had it. I slew him and took it from him at Fornost. How it fell into such a vile creature's hands in the first place is beyond me." The elf shuddered slightly. He was silent for a moment, and Gerithor could see he was trying to figure out what to say next.
   "I am not worthy to bear this Ring. I do not trust myself with it. However... I've been watching you. You are not like most men. Greed doesn't motivate you. You are selfless and look out for the wellbeing of others before your own needs." He held out the Ring to Gerithor. "I think you should have this, at least until we can decide on a good way to dispose of it."
   Gerithor was shocked. Why him?
   "I am young.... I don't think I have the wisdom to bear this." He made no move to take the Ring.
   "That is precisely why you are worthy. You are humble enough to see your own shortcomings. And more than that, you are not too proud to rely on others when the road gets dark. That, my friend, is true wisdom. Not the knowledge of dusty tomes, or the power of a king, but that." Caledorn looked over at Gerithor, holding out the ring.
   Gerithor hesitantly took the ring. It was heavier than he had expected. He put it on the index finger of his right hand over his thin leather gloves, and looked at it for a moment. It was quite beautiful. He turned back to Caledorn.
  "I will only keep this until you find out a way to destroy it. No longer." Gerithor looked back into the darkness.
   Caledorn nodded and stood up.
   "You should get some sleep ranger, you'll need it." He turned and began to walk back to the group, but Gerithor stopped him.
   "Why do we fight?" Gerithor asked. "It seems that, no matter what we or our ancestors have done, evil always returns. So why do we continue to fight it?"
   Caledorn's emerald eyes burned like the embers of a fire as he glanced over his shoulder. "Because so long as evil dwells in this world, there is also good. And in that good is unfathomable beauty. Until that beauty dies, until there is nothing left to fight for, there will always be a reason to fight. And even once the darkness is banished for good," he continued, his voice intense with passion. "That beauty must still be defended. The world must not let it fade away. That will be our fight in the years to follow. We will always have something to fight for."
   The young ranger nodded as Caledorn walked away, contemplating the elf's words. He pulled his knees close to his chest and tugged his thick grey cloak around himself, trying in vain to keep the cold wind out. He began to softly sing to himself, more as a distraction from the cold than to fall asleep. 

   Despite that, he soon felt himself drifting off. He had nearly closed his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
   "Do you mind?" Sarina said as she sat next to Gerithor. Gerithor yawned and looked over at her.
   "I'm sorry about this morning. I just felt angry that you'd leave without me. I understand now why you were going to." She looked at him with soft eyes.
   "I've already lost my parents, I don't want to lose you too. Or Eldahir. He invited himself along... I was going to go alone." He pulled his cloak closer.
   "I know, he told me. That would have been madness. It's still madness. But at least your friends are with you now." She smiled.
   "I'm glad both of you came along. It would've been a lonely road indeed without you." He turned to face her and smiled slightly.
   Even in the darkness he could see her blush slightly at his smile.
   Neither of them spoke for a while, and they both just looked at the sky.
   "They're beautiful aren't they?" Sarina said as she stared upwards.
   "Aye, they are." Gerithor said. "See that cluster of seven stars? That's Valacirca, or the Scythe as your people would call it, and over there is the Eagle, Soronume." As he mentioned their names he pointed them out, and Sarina moved closer to see where he was pointing.
  Sarina looked over at Gerithor. "How do you know their Elvish names?"
   Gerithor sighed wistfully. "My mother taught me. She knew I was always fascinated by the Elves. We'd sit out late at night and she'd point them out to me and tell me their names, what they meant, the stories behind them..." He trailed off.
   Sarina smiled at him sadly. She knew he was thinking about his parents now. Instead of saying anything she just put a hand on his shoulder and looked back up into the sky.
   They sat for a long while until Gerithor looked over and saw that Sarina had fallen asleep. He sighed and pulled his cloak closer. He closed his eyes, and soon drifted off to sleep as well.
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   He awoke with a start. He whirled around and looked at his companions. Caledorn was awake and looked at Gerithor in confusion. Sarina was still sleeping a few feet next to him. Eldahir was asleep as well.
   Gerithor took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure. Not another dream...
He shook it off. Maybe it was just a dream, nothing more. But he didn't think so...
   This dream was different from the others. The entire thing was vividly clear. It jumped to several different points. First, he saw a dwarf fighting Orcs in a desolate landscape. Then, he saw his cousin Aragorn with a crown atop his head. He saw a massive battle outside the gates of a white city... But the last thing he saw was what scared him. He saw Eldahir atop a dark tower, lifeless eyes looking up into the sky. Sarina was holding him and crying. Gerithor felt a sword pierce his shoulder just before he awoke, and a voice saying, "you are mine now..."