I led the young girl over to my horses. A large bay gelding and a feisty little red roan filly.
"Gilraen, meet Kitten and Cherry," I said, reaching into Cherry's saddlebag and pulling out a slice of bread.
"Kitten and Cherry?" Gilraen asked as she took the bread.
"My daughter named them," I told her. It brought a smile to my face. Thinking of my daughter with her wild red hair and untamable ferocity.
"...who are you?" Gilraen asked.
"Shyrenor."
I tightened the cinch on Kitten's saddle and then untied him from the tree along with Cherry.
"Alright. Hop up on Cherry here." I ordered. The girl looked at the roan and then back at me with suspicion.
"Where are we going?" she asked coldly, I raised an eyebrow.
"To my campsite." I intended to take her back home. Wherever that was. However, something told me that she didn't want to go home and if I told her my intention, she would run off somewhere.
Making a greater problem.
Teenagers.
Gilraen looked at me suspiciously and then back down at the bread in her hands.
"Do you have more food?" she asked quietly.
"Aye."
Without a word, she just climbed up on Cherry. I mounted Kitten and then took Cherry's lead in my free hand. She was my packhorse, therefore I didn't have a bridle for Gilraen to control the horse on her own. We rode in silence through the forest at the base of the Misty Mountains. I had originally been on a hunting trip down here and was due to go home within the week. Looking back at Gilraen quietly finishing the bread made me realize that I was going to be delayed on coming home.
I could just imagine the scorn I was going to get from Freya.
It made me grimace just thinking about it.
She was pregnant with our second child and often got cranky when I wasn't at home. Hopefully, she would be satisfied with Shyra's company. The girl would certainly keep my wife busy.
We arrived at my campsite to find my sleeping roll on the ground and the fire pit containing nothing but ashes. I tied up the horses while Gilraen sat down by the fire patiently. She eyed me as I scavenged around the camp for leftovers. Finally, I spotted some jerky in one of my bags.
When she was fed, I started the fire up again. Throwing logs in to feed the growing flames. They twisted about like orange streamers being blown in the wind.
It reminded me of Freya.
Her hair was the color of fire while mine was a little bit darker. Redder.
Memories of my wife brought a smile to my face. How we bantered back and forth as we worked together to build our house. Or when we were young and she would beat me in archery contests.
In my hands, I held a silver pendant with the face of an owl. My family's symbol, our own crest that we showed with pride. We were proud to stand out on our own from the rest of the descendants of Numenor.
Our pride though, is what got us killed in the past.
"My lord?" I looked up at Gilraen who was staring at me.
"What is it, lass?"
"Where are you actually taking me?"
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck which ached.
"I'm taking you home. Where you belong." Gilraen narrowed her eyes.
"And where is that?" she asked suspiciously.
"To Mordor." I retorted. The young girl was taken aback by my comment and the look on her face made me laugh a little.
"What's so funny?"
"That look on your face. You haven't been told that before have you?"
"No…"
I just chuckled and shook my head. This girl probably hadn't heard a bad word come her way. She was a pretty little thing. Probably sought out by most Dúnedain rangers to be their little wallflower. Something told me, however, that this girl wasn't a pushover. She had made it all the way out here after all.
"It's getting late. You should rest." I told her.