Cough, cough...
Half a month later.
At the border of Ithilien, a thin figure wove through the dense tall grass. He reached out to push aside the obstacles in front of him, but just as he was about to move forward, he suddenly froze.
The smell of blood...
No. Something wasn't right.
A faint rustling sound came from nearby. He quickly crouched down, hiding himself from sight.
"I'm sick of this maggot-infested bread!"
A coarse voice came from the left. Three Uruks, clad head to toe in heavy armor, trudged through the grass, not noticing the human hiding close by.
The thin figure grew wary.
These creatures were nothing like ordinary orcs, they were bigger, stronger, unafraid of sunlight, and their fighting ability could almost match that of humans... though they were still weaker than a healthy adult man, and not quite as tall.
"Time to find something to eat."
One of them spoke. "It's been so long since I've had fresh meat... fresh man-flesh. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water..."
As he spoke, his nose twitched suddenly.
"Wait!"
"What is it?"
The other two Uruks halted as he blocked their way.
"I smell something..."
Thump!
The man hiding in the grass felt his heart skip a beat, his breathing slowing.
Exposed?
"Over there."
The lead Uruk grinned cruelly and led the other two toward the ruins of a house.
The man in the grass let out a quiet breath of relief.
Good. Not him. They must have found some animal instead.
Clang!
The sound of wood splintering rang out, followed by the cries of a child.
"Hahaha! A tender, juicy man-child!"
The three Uruks roared with delight.
"His arms are too skinny—I'll take the thighs!"
"I want his heart."
"I'll take his brain. His skull will make a perfect drinking cup..."
They began dividing the spoils without hesitation.
"Settled, then."
One of them raised his cleaver, just about to bring it down, Whoosh!
A dagger flew from the shadows, sinking precisely into his neck. The Uruk collapsed instantly.
"Who's there!"
"You filthy rat, come out!"
Clang!
One Uruk spun around, blocking a sudden sword strike.
"It's that Ranger!" he roared.
Slash!
He only had time to curse before the sword came down again, slicing his head clean off. Without pause, the Ranger turned on the last Uruk, driving his blade straight into its chest.
But the Uruk only grinned cruelly, as if it felt no pain. Grabbing the sword blade in both hands, it lunged forward.
Thud.
The thin Ranger fell to the ground, eyes wide with pain shooting through his entire body.
Especially his right ribs.
Two of them had already been broken before, and now the old injury had flared up with a vengeance.
The Uruk yanked the sword from its own chest and tossed it aside, then raised its cleaver high, about to bring it down, when, at the last possible moment, the child suddenly threw himself forward, knocking the Uruk off balance.
Seizing the chance, the Ranger grabbed the discarded sword, sucked in a sharp breath, and, enduring the agony, sprang up and swung with all his strength, ending the Uruk's life in a single blow.
At last, he sat on the ground, gasping for breath. After resting for quite a while, he finally stood.
"Kid."
He gestured at the boy nearby.
The child immediately ran over, looking up at his savior with worry in his eyes.
"Where is your family?"
"They're all dead. They were all killed by the Uruks," the boy said in a numb voice.
The Ranger lowered his head in silence, made a gesture of prayer, then looked back at the boy and said, "Come with me. I'll take you to a safe town where you can grow up properly."
The boy nodded, then suddenly asked, "Are you a Ranger?"
"A Ranger..."
That question seemed to cut especially deep.
"No, I'm not worthy. I'm just an ordinary man."
"A despicable man."
He picked up the blood-stained dagger from the ground and, under the boy's gaze, confusion slowly giving way to fear, he deliberately slashed his own face again and again until it was beyond recognition.
Clink.
The dagger fell to the ground.
The man dressed as a Ranger patted the boy's head and rasped, "Remember this, child, no, remember that you are a proud citizen of Gondor. When you grow up, you must remain loyal to your country."
"Since you were born on this land, you must remember its blessings."
The boy trembled, nodding vaguely in confusion.
One tall figure and one small figure left the ruins together, heading toward Gondor's heartland.
---
Minas Tirith.
Five low-profile Rangers and one conspicuously armored black-clad warrior passed the gate inspection without trouble and entered the city.
The Rangers kept a low profile, dressed plainly. But no matter how they tried to blend in, this was Gondor, its very capital, and the citizens could hardly fail to recognize their own soldiers.
Under the stares of a crowd, Kane felt a little embarrassed.
As a Ranger used to lurking in the shadows, he had long grown accustomed to solitude. Being stared at by so many people all at once was... unsettling.
Crisp footsteps echoed on the stone-paved street as a little girl ran up, handing a bouquet of flowers to Kane, who was walking at the front.
"Thank you!"
"And thank you, child."
Kane smiled, accepting the flowers.
"Whenever I see a well-behaved child like you, I know everything we've done has been worth it."
The little girl ran back happily, telling her family about the encounter.
Garrett remarked, "Seems like you're quite popular."
"Mordor has oppressed the people of Gondor for a long time."
"Many here in the White City came as refugees from Ithilien, like that child just now, and like me. Our homes were destroyed, overrun with Mordor's Uruks. To survive, we had to leave."
"And then, we struck back, blood for blood."
The Ithilien Rangers, true to their name, were made up entirely of former residents of the Ithilien region.
The group spoke little along the way. Garrett looked about in curiosity, his head never lowering.
Magnificent!
His hands itched with the urge to explore.
They walked all the way to a corner of the inner city, where Kane and the other four Rangers parted ways with Garrett.
"This is where we leave you. We need to make our report to the Steward."
"If you have time, we can grab a drink later, my treat."
After giving Garrett a respectful bow, Kane led his team away, climbing the inner city's steps toward the gleaming white palace at the city's highest point.
With the five Rangers gone, Garrett found himself with nothing pressing to do, so he wandered up and down through all levels of the White City, taking in the sights.
All the while, countless eyes lingered on him.
"Is that him?"
"I've heard the stories, the great lord, the guardian of the North, the bane of evil..."
"He's exactly as the legends describe... but is it really him? Did he come to Gondor?"
Rumors began to spread. Garrett's presence was quickly known across the city, yet no one came forward to greet him warmly or start a conversation.
A man who had slain dragons and cut down tens of thousands of orcs and wargs, a living legend, was someone to be revered from a distance.
It took a lot of courage to speak to such a person.
A man whose strength was forged in blood and fire was fundamentally different from those who rose to fame through rhetoric and deception.
The latter might also receive applause and flowers, but without genuine respect. Their power was illusory, fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
The difference was fundamental.
As for the stares, Garrett paid them little mind. He'd grown used to it over the years, was there anywhere he went where people didn't look at him?
Climbing another flight of stairs to a higher level, his gaze fell upon a large garden where neat hedges and flowers of every color bloomed.
At the entrance stood two Gondorian soldiers, white swan feathers adorning their helmets.
"May I go in and have a look?"
"This area is off-lim—"
The soldier turned his head, got a good look at Garrett, and the rest of his words stuck in his throat.
This was not someone he had the authority to turn away.
"...Please keep your voice down and avoid disturbing the peace."
"Thank you."
Garrett smiled politely.
Once he had entered, the two guards resumed their posts as if nothing had happened.