It was strange, being alone with her countrymen once again. So far, they had always been accompanied by a native of this strange new land, whether it was elves, men, or dwarves. There had always been someone there, advising them, teaching them the ways of the country. Being on their own almost felt… Wrong. Like they were out in the open, completely unprepared. Without a guide, Arya felt vulnerable. Even things that were normal back home set her on edge. A squirrel scurrying through the undergrowth would make her muscles tense up in anticipation. A sudden birdcall would bring her hand to Needle's hilt.

Only Laeric seemed more relaxed, and Arya could guess as to why. Though he had done a good job hiding it, she had seen how much he distrusted everyone they had met thus far. He must have been relieved to get away from them. While Arya had grown closer to the members of the fellowship, Laeric had always kept a watchful eye on them, especially when any one of them had been near her.

It had been over a week since they had parted ways, and since then, the terrain had barely changed. They still traveled over rolling, tree covered hills, interrupted by occasional swathes of grassland, though they had crossed two rivers in the past few days. One of them had an old stone bridge allowing access to the other side, but the other river's bridge had fallen in ruin, and they had to wade across with their bags. The experience had left them cold and wet, but things could've been much worse. The weather, for instance, was actually far better than it had previously been. It had been breezy and overcast, but not so much as a single drop of rain had fallen as of yet.

Arya's only real grievance so far was that they had lost Sam. His cooking was sorely missed, and Barroth's attempts at imitating his meals had gone poorly. Instead of breakfasts of stew or cooked venison, they now had to settle for a measly loaf of bread, or a burnt squirrel.

They were now winding their way along the same South-bound road, though it had gotten considerably smaller and narrower. Laeric led the way, leading them along the road, while Barroth followed closely behind with their map, which he would consult frequently. Colden and Tedrin came after them, and Arya brought up the rear once again. She knew the other's didn't like not being able to see her, but she had insisted, and there didn't seem to be any real harm in it.

The only real "danger" they had faced so far had been an angry boar that had crossed their path. It had burst out of the underbrush, startling Teidrin and knocking him down, before being skewered by Colden's spear. That had been one of the few decent meals they had eaten in a good while.

Laeric stopped suddenly, holding up his hand to signal a halt. They all put their bags down, and Laeric went to Barroth, taking a look at the map. Colden, Arya, and Teidrin soon joined them, forming a tight circle around the piece of parchment.

"I'm tellin' ye." Laeric was saying. "We're too far south. Should've crossed Westward yesterday, after we crossed the river."

"I know we're too far south." Colden told him. "I decided not to go west when I was leading us yesterday."

Laeric gave him a sharp look. "And what the bloody hell'd you do that for?"

"Look," Colden said, tracing his finger along the map. "I know Elrond told us to split away from the mountains after we crossed the river. But he told us to do that so we would avoid Isengard. That means we could wait nearly two more weeks before we go west, and we'd still be safe. Besides, the terrain is much easier in this area. If we had gone where Elrond told us, we would've hit a rockier region, and it would've slowed us down."

"And you figured that all out on yer own, did ye?" Laeric growled. "What a damn hero. Saves us two days' time and leads us into enemy territory."

"It's not enemy territory ." Colden replied hotly. "It's some uninhabited place called Dunland. We'll be fine."

"Still isn't your decision to make, lad." Laeric said.

"No," Arya sighed. "It's mine."

She didn't relish the idea of being in charge, but she was trying to make an effort towards being a leader. She would need to be one, whether she liked it or not. Small decisions like this might prove crucial in the days to come. She had to make sure she knew how to handle them. Looking at Colden, she let out a breath.

"I'm with Colden here. We should keep heading south, at least for the next few days. As long as this land is uninhabited, I don't see any danger in staying."

Colden smirked and Laeric glowered at the ground, but Arya wasn't finished. "However," She said, wiping the smirk off of Colden's face, "Laeric is right as well. You can't make decisions like that on your own. Colden. We all need to know what's happening."

"Of course." Colden murmured. "Sorry."

Arya nodded. "Let's keep going. We still have a long day ahead of us."

They started up walking once more, Laeric in the front again. Colden hung back more this time to avoid the older man's wrath, which Arya found amusing. The day grew colder as they walked, though it was still a far cry from the icy winds of The North that they were all used to. A large mass of dark clouds was visible on the horizon, but none were overhead. As Arya watched, however, a small piece of cloud broke away from the mass and began drifting toward them. She squinted at it, unsure what she was seeing. It was a sort of wisp in the sky, darker than most of the other clouds. She pointed it out to Laeric, and he furrowed his brow.

"Don't look like a cloud." He said. "Moves too damn fast. Birds, maybe?"

Arya looked back at the shape, which was drawing steadily nearer. "But it's so big."

Laeric shrugged. "Alright, a lot of birds."

As the shape swooped overhead in a low pass, Arya saw that they were indeed birds. Large and black, like some kind of raven. She had never seen a flock so big before. The noise they made as they passed by was deafening. Squawks and screeches filled the air. Teidrin covered his ears and winced. But just as soon as it had begun, it was over. The birds flew away into the distance, growing fading into the sky behind them.

After the flock had gone, the group continued on, unperturbed. The incident did seem a little strange to Arya, but there wasn't really anything to do about it. They were just birds, after all. Anyway, she thought, they really should hurry up their pace. She wanted to make it to Gondor before the end of the month, but it didn't look like that would happen, at the rate they were going. Without Gandalf in front, their pace had suffered significantly, and it was showing. With the rivers behind them, at least, they would be a bit faster. At least, Arya hoped they would.

It was around noon when they reached a heavily wooded area. The trees there were close together, mostly pines and fir trees. Their needles littered the path, covering it like a thick carpet and muffling every footfall. Walking was easy, because the ground was flat and soft, with almost no underbrush in sight. Not even Teidrin managed to trip himself up, which was a rare thing. Arya was thinking that they should break for lunch soon. This land was perfect for sparring. Maybe she could even join in with Teidrin's practices, or challenge Colden to a rematch. She was about to call for a halt when, suddenly, a man came into view up ahead.

He was tall and muscular, his heavy frame covered in rags and animal skins. His hair was long and scraggly, as was his overgrown, unkempt beard. He was standing in the center of the path, staring straight at them. Laeric brought the group to a standstill, and they all stood looking at the man, who was still watching them intently. His wild eyes remained unblinking. Arya looked over at Colden.

"I thought you said this land was uninhabited." She hissed.

"Uh, yeah." He said uncertainly. "He's probably a traveller, like us. Only, he got lost. And, uh, lost his clothes."

Before they could react, the man began striding forward at an alarming rate, closing the distance between them quickly. Arya drew Needle, and her companions readied their weapons as well. The man did not falter when he caught the glint of their steel. He stopped about ten feet away, still looking them over without the least hint of worry. Arya gritted her teeth, her finger's tightening around the hilt of her sword. Then the man spoke. It was the common tongue, albeit a rough version, spoken as though it were not his first language.

"Hail." He said. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"Hail yourself." Colden said warily. "Who the hell are you?"

The man gave him a craggy grin, revealing yellowing, rotten teeth. "Jus' a lowly farmer, lord. Thought you might spare some food for a poor old man."

Colden leveled his spear at the man's throat. "Move. Now."

The man stayed put, not so much as twitching a muscle. His face remained impassive.

"Get the fuck out of our way," Colden said, voice becoming dangerous, "Or I'll run you through."

At that moment, Arya realized several things. First, it was strangely quiet. Where there had been birds chirping and squirrels scurrying around before, there was only silence now. Second, the man had no visible weapon, yet remained completely confident. That meant he was either insane, or he knew something they didn't. Judging by the knowing glint in his eyes, she would go with the latter. And then, as she was trying to guess what he was up to, Arya's ears picked up the faint twang of a bowstring creaking as it was pulled taught. She knew that sound all too well. And it was coming from somewhere behind them. Reaching out an arm, she laid her hand on Colden's spear.

"Wait." She said, "Don't."

Colden squinted at her. "Don't what? This guy's a fucking maniac."

She shook her head, looking him in the eye. "We're surrounded."

That made Colden pause. He lowered his spear shakily, glancing around. The man's craggy grin returned, this time directed at Arya. He seemed to be appraising her, as if curious.

"This one 'as some wit." He said.

Arya glared at him. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, the man threw his head back and let out a warbling yell. It sounded inhuman, more like the roar of a wild creature than anything else. In answer to his call, the forest around them came alive. Men emerged from the treeline or from behind rocks, bows drawn and aimed. They were all similar in appearance to the first man, though none were quite as large and burly. It was clear that their furs and wild hair had helped to disguise them as they lay in ambush. Arya cursed herself for not seeing them sooner, though it may not have made any difference.

Arya and her companions closed into a tight ring, standing back to back. Barroth hefted a hammer, Laeric brandished a small scimitar, Colden twirled his spear, and Teidrin was managing to hold his sword firmly, though his legs were shaking visibly. Arya, for her part, held Needle in ready position, it's tip pointed toward the nearest bowman. She shifted onto her toes, ready to spring into action at any moment. The standoff lasted for some ten or fifteen seconds. No one on either side spoke a word. Then Barroth broke the silence, whispering out of the side of his mouth.

"Do we fight?"

Arya didn't respond at first. She considered her options. These men appeared to be some kind of savages, probably just natives of the land. They had no real reason to be enemies, other than the fact that Arya and her companions were carrying fine clothes and weapons, which the wild men might find valuable. Of course, she knew nothing about these people. Maybe they were cannibals, reeling in their next meal. Then again, they hadn't loosed their arrows yet. It seemed they were more interested in taking prisoners. After one last look at the multitude of archers facing them, Arya made her decision.

"No." She said. She sheathed Needle, making sure to keep the movement as non-threatening as possible. "Put down your weapons."

No one did anything at first, reluctant to follow her orders. Then Laeric dropped his sword to the dirt. He turned to the others, sighing in resignation.

"Do as she says."

Barroth, Teidrin, and Colden all laid down their arms. The wild men surged forward, picking up the weapons and grabbing each traveller roughly. One man pinned Arya's arms behind her back, while another took Needle, then her Valyrian steel dagger. She stiffened, but made no protest. She would just have to get them back later. After they had all been hastily searched, their hands were bound with coarse rope.

The original man, who Arya had decided was the leader, came up to her as one of his followers was finishing up knotting the rope around her hands. He wasn't grinning anymore, but a smug expression still persisted on his face.

"You have wit." He said again. "But still, you lose. A fine prize for Zalmodoc." He thumped his chest, indicating that he was talking about himself.

"Look, uh, Zalmodoc." Arya said. "We have no quarrel with you. We've done nothing wrong."

"Quarrel?" The man replied. "You have come to our lands. That is enough quarrel. But you have courage, little lady. Maybe I will let you live. Come. We will go to Gornhold. There we will reach… An agreement."

He chuckled as he walked off, clearly very pleased with himself. He didn't seem very intelligent, but he also had a small army of savages at his command. However, as Arya was led away into the forest, she had to fight a smile of her own. They may be prisoner's, tied up and at the mercy of a madman. They be on their own, with no friends or allies to save them. But there was one positive development. One small thing that almost made Arya laugh out loud. Her captors had forgotten to check the sleeves of her cloak. And as she fingered the knife she had kept hidden there, things didn't seem so hopeless after all.

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