It was a rather hot April day in Rohan and, for once, it was not raining. A rough looking man on horseback rode over mountainous terrain, careful of the many small rocks that could be trecherous to a horse's hoof. He slowed down near small lake and dismounted his large, chestnut coloured mare called Ceffyl. She was a good horse, as good as they came, and, though the man was from Gondor, Ceffyl had been bred in Rohan. She was sturdy and had a great amount of stamina; in fact, this was the first time the man had stopped for a rest in two days. Not that this was from choice, it was just that all the ther small rivers and creeks had dried up recently. The man was sure this had something to do with the smoke and fire he had seen coming from Mordor in the past few years, however he had been sent by his father to ride to Rohan and ask for King Theoden's opinion on the matter. He allowed Ceffyl to drink as much as she could: the remaining journey was sure to be as dry as it has been so far. Still sweltering from the abnormal heat, the man stripped down to the waist then removed proceeded to move the rest of his clothing when he noticed a blanket clad figure on the other side of the lake. He frowned. It was no longer normal, nor safe, for Men to be wandering alone in this part of Middle Earth so he drew his sword from it's scabbard and warily verntured over to where the stranger was lying.

As he wandered closer, he saw that the red-headed figure was not a man but a woman. Around the same time he realised this, he also noticed the two dissembowled orcs that were half turned into ash from the sunlight. The man raised his eyebrows. Clearly this woman had some skill with the sword if she could take on two creatures that were larger than her. Curiously he walked closer to her and knelt by her side. He brushed the hair from her face and had just enough time to appreciate her timid bone structure and fair skin when her hand shot out from underneath the blanket and took a suprisingly firm hold of his wrist. She had obviously just woken up and looked furiously at him before a flash of recognition crossed her eyes.

"Lord Boromir!" she excaimed.

The man nodded. "And who are you?"

"Hanaiah daughter of Hywlash, my lord."

Boromir frowned. "You are from Gondor, I presume?"

"Yes, my lord."

Still kneeling by her side, he looked her in the eye and said, "I am at your service, Hanaiah daughter of Hywlash. Pray, tell me how is it that were you able to kill these two creatures." He gestured to the orcs. "Surely they were not easy to defeat?"

She seemed to be suppressing a smile as she replied, "They were here already when I came, my lord. Already dead, I mean."

"Already dead? By whom were they killed?"

Hanaiah shook her head. " I know not, my lord."

Again, Boromir frowned. He hoped there were no more wild men in this area. Such men would often prey lone or weak travellers, and if there were men like this in the lands of Rohan then he knew he must ride faster to tell King Theoden.

"My lord?" Hanaiah's timid voice burst through his deep thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Could I be so bold as to ask if I may travel under your protection?"

Boromir paused, unsure of how to answer. It was not honourable to deny a woman her protection, especially a woman alone. For just the two of them to travel together, however, would be a thorn in her honour. He looked at the strange woman and now saw the fear in her eyes."Why are you alone?" he asked.

"My brother," she explained, tears already forming in her eyes, "was travelling with me. We were to travel to Rivendell together." She broke off and began weeping.

Boromir supressed a sigh of frustration. He couldn't stand to see a woman weep, nor could he understand why they felt the need to shed tears. Trust a woman, he thought, to start crying at the most inconvenient time. He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and Hanaiah made an effort to dry her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself and began to tell him her story.