A/N: And a bit more of Amrod-centered draft :P What do you think, my lovelies?
A/N#2: In my mind he looks like Auggie from "Covert Affairs" played by Christopher Gorham. But you can imagine any hot brown-eyed hunk in his place if you want :P
You straighten up and push your sword back into its sheath. His posture is relaxed, and you gently prod your magic. You do not possess much gift but whatever you have allows you to see in the hearts of men if they do not purposefully try to close them from you. The heart of the Gondorian is pure and kind. So is his wide smile.
You sigh. You are very hungry after all. "I will accept your offer, honourable sir, if you promise me the food is not stolen." The dark thick brows jump higher, and he chuckles. "Then you will have to stay hungry, lady Thea." You shake your head.
You are sitting on a fallen tree, he is on the ground, immensely too close to your knee. The pies are excellent, and so is the cider. You are eating in a surprisingly comfortable companionship. He has elegant long fingers and exceptionally good manners for a vagabond.
"So what does an erstwhile Ranger of Ithilien doing in the Vales of Anduin?" You pop a slice of apple in your mouth, and he stops chewing. And then he turns his face to you, swallows and gives you a wide smile. "How did you know?"
"The accent, the facial bone structure, the bow, and that," you point on the scar on his forearm, his sleeves rolled up, "is from a Haradrim sword." His laughing eyes are roaming your face. "And how do you know that, my lady?"
You put another slice of an apple into your mouth and give him a closed lipped, sly smile. He shakes his head. "You are a mystery indeed, my lady. Dwarven clothes, a Dwarven sword, the royal forgery no less," you lift a brow, and he smirks, "I know my weapons. And besides all, you thought I should know who you are, honourable lady." He leans back on the log, and his face is very close. "So who are you, oh glorious lady Thea?"
He has remarkable eyes, warm and astute, unusually dark, deep brown colour, framed by thick black lashes. "I am just a traveller, just like you, kind sir." He smirks and clanks his flask to yours. "Fair enough. And where is it that you are travelling to, my lady?" "East," you are not being purposefully vague, you honestly do not know where you are going. You know what you are running from though.
Something must show on you face, as he suddenly pats your knee with his large palm. "Something tells me you do not like the climate in these lands either." You nod. And then ask yourself why you are so open with him. You look at him from a corner of your eye.
His posture is relaxed, one leg bent, another stretched in front of him. Long green cloak, brown and green attire, reminiscent of his former service, but bearing no markings, no banners, no Kingdom. "And where are you heading, my lord?"
He snorts. "I am no lord." "I am only returning the favour. I am no lady either." He turns on his side and supports his head on his hand, elbow on the log near you. "You are wearing an expensive attire, new boots, from Dale, if I am not mistaken, and when you bent to the stream a silver ring on a chain fell out of your collar. What does it tell us?"
You press your palm to the ring hidden under your clothes. It is a heavy silver band bearing a Dwarven rune, a simple but dear token of affection from the King Under The Mountain. You heart clenches. That is the affection that is no more, his love has passed, and you are sitting on a log with a stranger, lost and confused.
You shudder and look at the man beside you. His eyes are warm and candid, and you immediately feel better.
"It tells us that I am a person who still wants to know the answer to her question," you give him a pointed look. He is gaining time, rummaging through the basket. He pulls out a slice of honey cake, wrapped in paper, and places it on the log.
"I cannot say I have a specific destination in mind, wherever the road takes me," he unwraps the cake and then licks off the syrup that got on his long index finger, "East sounds rather nice at the moment," he gives you a cheeky grin.
You look at him in surprise. "Honey cake?" You lean down to pick up a piece, when he pushes his body up from the ground and his face is an inch away from yours. You gasp, his expressive walnut eyes are inviting, gleaming with mirth.
"Are you a free woman, lady Thea?" His voice is lower, seductive. You know what he is asking about. "No, I am not." He flops back on the ground, seemingly not disappointed at all. Then he breaks off a half of the cake and throws it in his mouth. "I am still heading East though."
You are staring at him baffled. He is chewing and takes a drink from his flask. And then he notices your expression. He chuckles and moves closer again. "I am sure your Dwarven lover will miss you." "No, he will not," and then you bite your tongue. He is so easy to talk to that you forget all caution. He is pondering it. "Then he is fortunate that you are so honourable," and then he picks up your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles. "And not fortunate that I am not."