'You didn't get much sleep last night,' Baléd accused. He looked sharply at the girl whose back was facing him. She leaned over and casually threw more items into her pack. When she didn't answer him, he asked: 'What was you dreamin' about, anyway? I saws ye, I did, tossin' and turnin' in yer sleep. Moanin' about some boy, maybe? Ha!'
Krita quickly passed him, trying to avoid the conversation. She went to the remains of the fire and started spreading the ashes around in the grass, seeming to hide the traces, though Baléd remarked that she wasn't doing a very good job of it. Soon her hands were pitch black. She worked furiously, casting the ashes here and there, one handful landing on her friends' boot.
'Let me help you there, girl, what are ye doin'?' He moved in next to her and tried to hold her arm still, but she backed away as if she had been stung by an ugly insect. She stood there, staring at him, a blazing fire in her eyes, and then they turned cold as ice. 'Don't play games with me, Baléd,' she told him softly, though he could sense the anger in her voice. Before he could reply, she turned and went down the bank to the river.
'Oh, now what have I done?' Baléd said aloud. He grabbed a half burned log from the pile and pitched it at one of the horses. The log missed by a yard and the horse continued to graze.
Krita had used all her strength not to cry in front of Baléd. When she reached the River, she collapsed in the sand, and burying her head in her hands, she let out what she had kept bottled up inside of her. She hated who she was, and she hated Baléd, and she hated all the world. She hated what she had indeed dreamt and was trying to forget, but most of all, she hated those damned Rangers for killing her love, whom had so recently entered her thoughts again.
Baléd once asked her where she came from, who her parents were, and why she wandered alone. But every time he did, she gave him a look that always made him wonder if she was really human. He knew she was, of course, but all the same, why was a girl like that working for a Lord like Him? He wanted to read her thoughts, delve into her mind to find what keeps her ticking. He knew he would never know, because she would never tell him; but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had just been tossed to Middle-earth like a sac of potatoes, bearing no history or family, save her name.
But despite all of Baléd's silly thoughts, Krita did indeed have a history, and in fact a home town. It was called Poros, a small village in Harondor, or South Gondor, located on the shores of the Poros River for which it was named. The few hundred people that dwelled there were allies of no one, though both Gondor and Mordor were its' neighbors. There was only one Inn, and dwarves often passed through to rest a night or two. Elven eyes had never been laid upon the town, and in fact the whole existence of Elves was but a rumor there; with mothers telling their children tales of the pointy-eared people by the fireside, or before bedtime. The very few adventure-seeking boys were never seen again if they chose to leave; most of them finding more interesting countries, or becoming warriors for different Lords of foreign lands. But because they never returned, many of the villagers became afraid of the outside world, so they stayed in Poros, never wandering more than a few miles away to gather simple herbs for meals. They trusted not the dwarves that passed by, but were even more afraid of the Rangers that watched in the shadows on the Northern bank of the River in Ithilien.
But because it was such a small town, each person knew every person, and festivals and parties were frequent. They worshipped no god, and had no leader or mayor. They were simple people, and girls married whom they wished, and men ran the households, and there were many children.
Krita's own mother died in child labor with her brother Talís, leaving their father to care for them through childhood. He was the town's only blacksmith, and was a good, strong man who loved his children, and most of all he loved teaching Talís about his work. But when Krita was twelve and Talís was nine, he left Poros to go hunting, and he never returned. It was about this time, after their father disappeared, that Krita would meet Rûmik, and he would change her life forever.