The fire crackled slowly, glowing sparks spitting from its center only to die off in the cold, dark air. Arasil sat next to the flame, holding out his gloved hands to try and absorb some extra heat. He looked up at the other cloaked figures gathered around, clad in green and blue. Some of the other Rangers met his gaze, but quickly broke it, looking back down at the fire.
"Is this what we've resorted to now?" A voice from behind Arasil. He turned to see the grizzled man striding past many huddled figures, the silver sword hilt glinting off his back from the moonlight. "Huddling around a single fire in fear?"
"What else can we do? We're beaten, the Uruks are too strong!" A man by the name of Zachariah stepped forward.
Arasil kept to himself, holding a tin mug between his hands and raising it to his lips slowly, sucking the dregs of his supper from the chilling metal. He listened in on the two arguing, but didn't pay much attention. It was something about the Uruks they'd been fighting this whole time, ever since they retook Mordor. Arasil wasn't anywhere near the fighting on that first day, the day the Black Gate fell. He had been told it was a massacre, the guard not standing a chance against the Black Captains. He guessed that he was lucky to be on a hunting trip, otherwise he wouldn't be enjoying this cold stew at this particular moment.
"Well it's easy for you to come in here and talk shit about how we run. Not all of us have gone against the Wraith-Killer and lived to tell about it!" A hush fell over the camp as Zachariah said that. The grizzled ranger looked down at the fire, his left hand raising to a long scar covering his left eye, now white from damage. As his fingers gingerly touched the mark as if it still burned, his one good eye burned with a fiery passion.
"You say that as if it's a privilege to live after his blow strikes." He sat down on a stump, looking into the embers of the dying fire. "Let me tell you how wrong you are. Allow me to show you how living after he's beaten you, is worse than dying." He leaned forward, steepling his hands together, before he spoke.