On a random hill of Gondor [/SAERWEN]

[faramir]

The weather was fine this morning. Bright-blue sky, cloudless, long rays of sun slicing into the ground. Drops of dew dancing on green grass as they bended fluidly in the tender breeze, releasing a scent that seemed too sweet for blood-stained Gondor. From time to time a flock of birds would fly westwards, almost silently, save for the rustle of leaves resonating from somewhere east of Faramir and his men. Faramir, Captain of Gondor, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. Two roles|duties|responsibilities that had been reluctantly|grudgingly given to him because even Denethor knew that it was not rational, much less realistic, for Boromir to look after|take care of everything. No, this was not a second chance, not an opportunity for Faramir to make up for his apparent failure at Osgiliath; this was merely a forced necessity. So that the people of Minas Tirith could watch this other son of Denethor, this parody of Boromir, run around hills & forests, scouting out orcs & getting rid of them before they could even touch the city.

For five consecutive days nothing had happened. No orcs, no enemies. No information whatsoever. Nothing to bring back to Minas Tirith, his father. So he stayed. If he returned with empty hands&eyes, Denethor would be disappointed(than ever, more disappointed than usual)&the gelid voice would slide out & cut him[Faramir] (deep.) If his(well, the) rangers were growing weary of having "nothing to do"[nothing to kill&orattack, that is], then they did a splendid job of hiding|suppressing it. Faramir, however, still refused to let his guard down. Some orcs were apparently clever, or at least clever enough to wait until he & his men were relaxed, then launch an attack on their unsuspecting backs.

Afternoon already. The weather remained unchanged, except for the increase in temperature. Sweat flooded down from Faramir's temple to his back, urging him to take not one but two showers in Henneth Annun. He resisted, telling himself that just one was enough, and that he should take it after sundown, not in the middle of a rather routine scouting duty. After another timespan of dashing here & there, he asked for Mablung and Damrod, two of his most trusted rangers. They found nothing, just --

" -- heard something in one of the bushes," reported Mablung, "but we saw nothing when we looked." Probably a rabbit.

[saerwen]

Yet another long day for Saerwen as she made her way into the kingdom of Gondor. She had no particular plan for herself as she came this way, only that she had to get some fresh supplies again. Then she'd be on her way. Of course, as with every other place she traveled to, she expected delays, but she hated to deal with them. As with today, when her horse injured it's leg. It was treatable of course, it wasn't that big of an injury, but it still meant she had to spend more time in Gondor than she would prefer. The biggest problem was that Saerwen was still very far from Minas Tirith, where she could get more supplies while tending to her horse. To help the poor creature she used what supplies she had with her, and created a bandage for it. As she did so, her sharp sense of hearing raised awareness that men were approaching. It had taken a moment or two to figure that out, but she soon realized that it had to be men, because orcs were much noisier with their feet, and didn't try to sneak through the trees and bushes. These men seemed to do so, which amused Saerwen.

The elf was tempted to jump out at them and surprise them that way, but she figured that would only make it most likely for her to be killed. Surprise was all well and good, but not in a manner to make men fire rapidly with their bows. Men were rather foolishly quick to use their weapons. That was one of the many things that kept her from enjoying their company. And the fact that they were uncleanly, they seemed to take great enjoyment in ale, and all in all she felt they weren't much company to have. At the same time though, Saerwen had forced herself away from her own kind, so she supposed they were the best company to be had now. Saerwen did her best to make sure she was presentable, even in her armor, with her sword attached to her hip. There was sloppy armor, and there was well cleaned armor of the elves. Saerwen made sure she looked nice, as she had heard that men seemed to have an awestruck impression of many of the elves. And, she was fully aware that none of them had come to the land of Gondor for a very long time.

Saerwen heard a man speak and instantly was on alert. Her heart was pounding, even as she realized that the man had been stupid enough to not see her and she let out a deep breath slowly, still making sure she wouldn't be heard. When she finally felt that she was presentable, and had calmed herself down, she walked towards the men, with her horse in tow, albeit slowly. She tied the horse to a bush before she walked through the bushes to find the men who had not seen her and one who she assumed was their leader. Saerwen smiled politely as she spoke, "It appears your guards need more training." As an elf, she wasn't even the best at sneaking through the woods silently. Haldir and the elves who guarded Lothlorien were much better at it. And still these men had not heard her, even as she had been taking care of her horse. She tilted her head as she listened to the sound of distant footsteps as well. "And I believe orcs are approaching. Perhaps you should work to improve your scouting." Saerwen spoke softly, although she was not trying to insult the men whatsoever. She just said what she believed to be true. If she wanted to insult them she already would have done so. Instead she watched the leader quietly, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword...just in case.

[faramir]

"Are you sure?" Asked Faramir, just in case; not that he was not convinced enough to leave the area, for orcs, according to his memory (which was a considerably recent one: Osgiliath, to be more exact), were distinctively ugly creatures, with such a mutilated(or (just) abnormal; how man-esque of him to equate abnormal-in-terms-of-the-features-of-men with mutilation|,disfiguration) visage & filthy colours that the chances of them sneaking by a man & actually succeeding were no doubt (?) {much} lower than that of being detected. Not to mention the smell, the terrible, terrible smell. Conclusion in relation to their[Faramir & his rangers'] situation: Most. Likely. A. Rabbit. So he told Mablung and Damrod to stay - j u s t i n c a s e - before beginning to make his way to yet another part of Gondor. As he turned, however --

Armour. Sword by the waist. Absence of any sign which indicated Gondor. The first things Faramir saw -- no, merely glimpsed - & suddenly!his arm was already reaching back, fingers swiftly curled around an arrow as he readied himself to fire. But his arm froze in its bent position as the sight before him made clear(er) of itself, as if its excess negativity rose off in a cloud and dissipated into the air and then contaminated another. Before Faramir stood a female -- a woman. But how did she -? She seemed to have melted out from the bushes behind (her), melted out & glided, feet like quick molasses. Stealth better than a ranger's. His rangers. Yes, she spoke the truth: if she, of all creatures (..n-not insinuating that women were incapable of -- well, you know..) could brush silently pass his men, then they -- Faramir included -- were no doubt in need of more training, more practice, more,more&more.

Especially when she mentioned the presence of orcs so surely.

"...Yes," said Faramir after a long moment of silence. A woman & no orc/s. Nonetheless, it would be foolish (no matter how rude, even offensive) for him to assume that she was harmless, or that she was at least on their side, or against Sauron. She could be tricking him; her words could be sweets and her mouth a trap. He lowered his arm, slowly, taking the time to scrutinize her [features] (as if a book could be accurately judged by its cover, as if a bowl of stew could be judged as delicious or not merely by its colour, as if a man could be determined weak or strong just by his interests in fighting&sword-wielding&arrow-shooting..). Green eyes, dark locks, crescent-moon complexion. Faramir could not pinpoint her age, for while her smooth face & posture spoke young, something (intuition, perhaps?) else tugged at him & nearly yelled otherwise. He tried again, searched for more(better) details this time -- lithe figure, elegant movements, facial structures at a comforting balance of sharp & soft; now look past the jaw & up to the ears --

...Ears. Pointed. Her ears were pointed.

"..." Faramir said nothing. His throat seemed to have closed up at the realization that the woman before him was an elf.

[saerwen]

It was amusing to the elf to watch the men's reactions to her appearance. Clearly they were not used to both being caught by surprise, and seeing a woman out there, let alone an elf such as herself. Saerwen had to hold back the urge to laugh. Especially with the look on the captain's face. Saerwen stiffened as she watched him react, almost ready to draw an arrow and shoot it at her. If he dared to hit her with an arrow, she would strike him down. There was no way that she would allow herself to be killed by a man. That would be a pathetic end to her long years. Even though she often wondered whether death might be better than living, she never gave in. And she refused to go to the Grey Havens. Not until she learned her purpose. And Saerwen was quite certain that dying at a man's surprised reaction was not her purpose. For now, she chose to lead her life in a nomadic sort of lifestyle. She never stayed anywhere for a lengthy duration of time. There was no need to. Saerwen didn't serve any leader, she didn't protect the woods of Lothlorien, or help one of the kings of men. Saerwen was a free spirit.

As she watched the captain of the men, she was relieved to see that upon realizing she was not attacking him, he lowered his arm. That was good. He wasn't ready to kill her at a moment's notice. Saerwen's heart rate lowered as she felt slightly less panicked. Not that she showed any signs of fear. Saerwen always hid her emotions. As an elf she made it her business to keep her true thoughts and feelings hidden behind a mask. There was only one time she truly cracked, and that was thousands of years ago. No, it would take quite an effort to bring her to that point once again. It was much more difficult to get close to Saerwen now than it was an age before. And perhaps that made sense. She had seen more of the world, she had felt more pain than she had ever thought possible, and now she was coming out stronger and colder to light-hearted attempts at kindness. She was not in the mood to deal with such people. Which was perhaps why she disdained some races more than others. That and the fact that she honestly believed elves were a grander and better race than the others. A bit of elvish snobbery, even if she didn't stay with her elven kin. She had her pride.

Saerwen watched and waited as he glanced her over. It seemed to her that he was unused to the sight of an elf in Gondor. That, or he had never seen one there before. Which was not too surprising, as elves seldom strayed from their lands. At least, not as of late. The only time they left these days were to head for the Grey Havens. "Are you alright? Perhaps you are not used to elves in your lands. Most of my kin seldom travel so far east." Saerwen spoke softly, figuring that would explain why it was so surprising for her to be there. And it was an observation to make. She figured before the orcs arrived, and they wouldn't show for another hour or so, she could try to get to know this captain of men.

ooc: so sorry it took so long, and it's not the best.