Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.

Chapter 1: A cold journey

The rangers trudged through the heavy snow, cloaks pulled tightly around their bodies, heads bent. They had been walking since early morning and their steps were weary. Trestan, in particular, felt the weariness more than the other two. Still young, he had joined the rangers only a short time ago, and he was less accustomed to the long walking in extreme weathers than the other two hardened rangers. This was in fact his first time traveling so far from the ranger village where he had grown up. Till now, he had only gone on short patrols to the neighboring villages, but he was now deemed old enough to take part in some of the guard duties further away from his home. That was why he was here now, traveling to the Northern camp, to be part of the ranger guard situated there. There was need of men there, word was that the orcs there had grown increasingly bold, and the guard around the villages was being doubled. More rangers were being moved up there.

As soon as he had heard this news, Trestan immediately wished to be a part of this guard. He had always wanted to see the distant lands about which he had always heard but had never seen. The possibility of danger and battle only added further thrill to this adventure that the impetuousness of his youth whole-heartedly embraced. As luck would have it, his two companions happened to be passing through his village, heading back towards the Northern camp themselves, and they had agreed to let him accompany them to join the patrol.

At the beginning, Trestan had been elated at this journey and the adventure it offered. However, thinking only of the excitement of battles and fights, Trestan had failed to take into account the long, cold and dreadfully boring journey to reach the Northern camp in the first place. Now, a fortnight away from his home, Trestan was seriously beginning to regret ever having agreed to this duty. Not only agreed, he was the one who had repeatedly and forcefully pleaded with his parents to let him go off on this journey. He suspected that in the end his parents had just gotten tired of his constant begging and had shoved him off on the two rangers just to be rid of him.

Trestan's thoughts turned to his two companions. Dagoin, the older of the two, was a quiet, impassive, sort of man. Tall and bulky with muscle, with hardened features, he rarely spoke at all, but despite his gruff exterior, Trestan knew him to be a kind-hearted sort. He usually preferred to sit by himself on guard duty. Trestan had yet to see him laugh or smile or take any part in the usually lively conversations between him and Aragorn.

Aragorn, chieftain of the Dunadan, was their other companion. Trestan remembered his great awe at first finding out who this visitor to their village was, and his even greater nervousness when he discovered that he was to accompany him on the journey. How would such a great lord react to him? He was inexperienced and quite ignorant of anything beyond his village.

But his apprehension soon vanished in the face of the chieftain's easy-going manner and gentle kindness. Aragorn made sure to watch over him, and proved a jovial companion with whom Trestan shared many a conversation.

Aragorn was the one now leading them, and Trestan was completely dependent on his skills to get them where they were going. He himself had long since lost any inkling of where they were; they were far beyond his region of experience. For all he knew, they would be walking through this white land forever. He was not even looking at his surroundings now, his attention focused on the steady footsteps of the ranger in front of him, trusting that he had an idea of where they were going. It was easier, too, to just think of following one step at a time, rather than look ahead at all the distant miles they had yet left to cover.

Suddenly the footsteps in front of him stopped, and Trestan looked up in mild surprise. Aragorn had turned around to face them, a slight grin playing on his face.

"What would you say to stopping for the night? Say in a nice warm inn with a hot meal and proper beds?" Aragorn asked. As he had expected, Trestan's face lit up at the sound of the word 'warm', his bright eyes expressing without words his intense eagerness for the rest and warmth offered. The look of excitement on face was so comical that Aragorn had to stifle a laugh, even though he could understand exactly how he felt. After a week out in the cold, Aragorn was more than looking forward to actually having feeling in his numb fingers again. Trestan must have been feeling even worse. Even the normally impassive Dagoin's shoulders had straightened at the prospect of proper shelter for the night.

"There is a village, not far from here. We should reach it within the hour. It is a small place, but I'm sure they have a few warm beds for weary travelers." Aragorn continued, this time really laughing at Trestan's barely controlled glee. Turning around again, he started forward, and the rangers moved off, their pace quickened, weary limbs fueled by the thought of rest.

It was not long before the rangers could make out the gate of the rough wooden wall that surrounded the village. It was, as Aragorn had said, small, barely enough to be even called a village. Nevertheless, Trestan was thoroughly relieved to see it, his eagerness to reach it had only increased as the rapidly approaching evening caused the temperature to fall even further.

Reaching the gate, Aragorn knocked loudly, and was soon rewarded by the face of a surly looking gate-keeper looking out through a window in the door. Looking thoroughly annoyed at having been dragged away from his fire, he scrutinized the travelers carefully.

"Rangers they look to be, three of them too. Of course it would be them, what other sane person would be out on a night like this." He muttered to himself, unaware that the keen ears of said rangers were picking up on his every word. "Don't know what they think they are up to, going around disturbing the peace of normal folk. Thieving too, no doubt. Scoundrels the lot of them. And what do you be wanting?" He asked, addressing them at last

"Shelter and food for the night. We wish to stay at the inn." Aragorn replied shortly, not wishing to prolong his conversation with so dislikable a man.

"Of course, of course. Stay at the inn. Probably mean to rob it and everyone there. Why they come walking up here I don't know." The old gatekeeper muttered again. "There's no room for such as you here. We don't want your kind. We're respectable folks, and don't be wanting any trouble. Away with you now!" he responded to them, glaring darkly at them the whole time and making to shut the window.

" We don't wish for any trouble either. We are tired, and simply wish to rest. We will be out of your way before daybreak." Aragorn tried again, reigning in his anger at the man and attempting to sound reasonable.

"Sure you will, sure you will. Steal out of here before daybreak after robbing the whole village no doubt. I'm no fool, I know your kind, I do. You won't trick your way in here. Go back where you came from and stop disturbing us respectful folk." The gatekeeper replied, and without waiting for a response shut the window and walked back to his meager shelter, muttering about dark strangers that had the audacity to come barging into their homes.

Outside, Aragorn, stood staring at the gate in a shocked silence, suppressed anger visible in his eyes and his tightly clenched jaw. Staring at the gate for a moment more, he turned around to where the other two rangers were waiting, and said, "Let's go. There is cave nearby in these foothills where we will shelter for the night." Without another word, Aragorn walked off in the direction of the hills, not even glancing back to see that his companions were following him.

His companions were, in fact, not following him. Trestan was in a state of panicked confusion. Why had the gatekeeper not let them in? Why were they going to be spending another night out in the cold when there was a warm inn just a few meters away? Aragorn was the chieftain of the rangers! Who would deny him entry? And that too an insolent old gatekeeper of a village that was barely the size of his ranger village home?

Watching his leader's retreating back, Trestan turned to face Dagoin, his eyes asking for some sort of an explanation, pleading to be told that it was a joke and that they could go in. They could climb over the wall if nothing else; it was barely as high as he was.

Dagoin too was looking back at Aragorn, a curious mixture of sorrow, anger and thoughtfulness on his face as he considered the retreating figure of his chieftain.
"It still hurts him so much…after all the times he has seen it, felt it, it still hurts." Dagoin's thoughts were interrupted by Trestan, who was still waiting for an explanation. Smiling softly at the youth's confusion and indignation, he laid a hand on his head and rubbed his hair gently, "It hurts you too, doesn't it? Aye, it always hits the youths the hardest, till the repeated battering of experience teaches them to endure it. Come now."

And so saying, Dagoin followed in his leader's footsteps, leaving behind a bewildered, unhappy and thoroughly cold Trestan.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! I'll try to update as soon as possible, but the way things are going, it will probably be a while…meanwhile, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this part, so please review! Thank you very much.