While the elves had been traveling through barren lands devoid of life, the Rangers under Gerithor's command had decided to take the road. They encountered few travelers along it, aside from the occasional farmer carting his goods along as they neared the Bree-lands. The weather had remained calm but cloudy, as it usually was in these lands.

But the thing Gerithor noticed the most was the lack of birds. There was no warble of a lonely sparrow, nor even the common caw of a crow. He hadn't seen a single flock of birds since they had split up with Glorfindel's company. It was as if the birds had been frightened away by something.

"Something isn't right," he murmured as he looked up at the overcast sky. Halbarad, who was walking next to him, stopped and listened.

"Aye. No birds," he replied.

"Maybe that's just 'cause this place is dreary as a troll's lair," Gloin replied as he strode up to join the conversation.

"No... There's usually birds here, albeit mostly carrion birds," Gerithor said.

Just then a farmer came into view as they rounded a curve in the road, pulling a small cart behind him. A woman that appeared to be his wife was with him, as well as two small children in the back of the cart that were no more than seven or eight years old.

"Ho there!" Gerithor called out as he stopped the company.

"We don't want any trouble, sir," The farmer replied nervously, as he put a hand on a small falchion hanging from his belt.

"We're not bandits, my friend," Gerithor replied. "We're merely wanderers traveling to Bree."

"An awful lot of you to be just wanderers," the man replied skeptically as he looked over the ragtag group. Gerithor motioned for the rest of the rangers to stay where they were as he approached the family.

"You wouldn't happen to know why there aren't any birds around here..." He began as he smiled reassuringly at the man.

"Nay," the farmer said. "I noticed it too though. Nothin' good can come from that, sir, mark my words."

Gerithor scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Have there been any strange folk on the roads lately?"

"Not that I've seen sir, aside from you lot," the man replied. "Though we did pass by a ransacked cart on the way here."

"Bandits?" Gerithor asked. It wasn't uncommon for travelers to get ambushed if they were carrying valuables... Especially in the Lone-Lands.

"I don't think so sir," the farmer said as he reached into his cart. "These arrows were riddling the cart. I thought I'd take them back to Bree and find out what manner of people used these." He pulled a long, black shafted arrow from his cart and handed it to Gerithor, who frowned at the sight of it.

"Orcs..." He muttered as he examined the arrow. "How long do you think the cart had been there for?"

The farmer looked questioningly at his wife, who thought for a moment before speaking up. "Couldn't have been more than a couple hours, sir," She replied meekly. "The bodies hadn't been scavenged much."

Gerithor narrowed his eyes, and was about to speak again when one of his rangers let out a cry of alarm.

"Wargs! To the northeast!"

Gerithor looked in the direction the ranger was pointing and saw at least a dozen dark dots moving quickly toward them over the hills. As they approached Gerithor could soon see that they were wargs, with armored riders atop them.

The farmer and his wife looked wide-eyed at Gerithor, and one of the children began to cry.

"Leave the cart here, and make for Bree as fast as you can!" The ranger exclaimed as he grabbed the man's arm.

"But that's a year's goods there!" The farmer cried in despair as he glanced at his cart.

"It's your goods or your life!" Gerithor replied as he drew his bow.

"What about you lot?" The farmer asked.

I'll send half of my men with you, they'll keep you safe." Gerithor whistled to Halbarad, who quickly gathered ten of the rangers.

"Bless you sir!" The farmer's wife said tearfully. Gerithor nodded and Halbarad's men moved to form a protective circle around the cart.

"I'll meet you in Bree," Gerithor whispered to Halbarad. "Be discreet, there are spies even in the Breelands that would inform more enemies if they saw you."

"We'll do our best," Halbarad replied before turning to his men. "Quick! Double time it!"

Gerithor and the remaining men quickly turned to face the enemy, bows drawn and ready to fire. Gloin had one of his throwing axes in his hand, and he wore a fierce grin on his bearded face.

"I haven't had a good fight in forever!" He cried as he brandished his weapon.

"You'll wish that were the case before too long!" Gerithor replied as he watched the wargs approach. He now counted nearly two dozen, and they were all much more heavily armed than a simple raiding party.

"Steady..." He murmured as he aimed his bow at the foremost warg rider. The other rangers tensed, ready for a command.

Gerithor waited until the wargs were nearly upon them, gauging just the right moment.

"Fire!" He shouted. A dozen bows sang in unison, and a dozen wargs fell as the arrows met their marks. Gloin threw his axe a split second later, felling an orc that had been thrown clear of his warg. The remaining riders that were still mounted were soon upon them however, and the rangers all drew their swords to combat them. Gerithor beheaded a warg that galloped past in one swift, powerful stroke, sending the orc riding it flying. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gloin finishing off an orc, and he could hear the dwarf laughing as his axe swung to and fro. The laugh abruptly ceased as another orc leapt at Gloin, putting the dwarf on the defensive. But Gerithor had problems of his own. A massive black warg was eying him hungrily, growling and snapping as it stalked closer.

Gerithor glared back at the warg, raising his blood stained sword in front of him.

"You're an ugly one..." He said as he stepped backwards from the beast. The warg snarled and leapt at him, its claws raised to attack. Gerithor slid out of the way, raising his sword above his head in a defensive stance. The warg flew past him, and spun to snap at the ranger with powerful jaws. Gerithor drew backwards, then thrust forward with all his strength. The warg let out a choked growl as the blade pierced its throat, then collapsed to the ground as the life left it.

As he stood Gerithor saw that the small battle was already nearly over, and the remaining wargs and orcs were one by one fleeing. Gloin chased after a limping orc, yelling after him in Dwarvish. The rangers remained unscathed, save one who had been bitten in the arm.

Gloin returned a moment later, out of breath and wearing a grin.

"I got 'im!" He yelled as he approached Gerithor. Gerithor gave the dwarf an amused expression.

"Good!" He said, laughing slightly. "But we need to hurry. More may very well be out there."

"Let them come!" Gloin exclaimed, thumping his axe to his chest. "This dwarf will meet them with open arms!"

"We don't have time," Gerithor replied. "We need to hurry to Bree. Halbarad and his men may have encountered trouble on the way."

"Ah, very well," Gloin replied, reluctantly sheathing his throwing axe. Gerithor turned and looked at each of his men, making sure they were alright before he decided on a course of action.

"Elbren, help patch up Belon's arm while we travel. We'll go along the side of the road, in the cover of the ditch."

The rangers nodded in agreement and silently followed Gerithor and Gloin as they made their way down into the ditch.

"You'd just better hope the rainwater hasn't gathered any deeper than this," Gloin said as he trudged knee deep through the muddy water. "Otherwise you'll have to save a drownin' dwarf!"

=========================================

They arrived in Bree without further incident. By the time they arrived, however, it was dark and the gates were closed.

"There's no way they'll let a group this large into town at this hour," Gerithor said as they observed the gate from across the road.

"Maybe we can go in two at a time," Gloin replied. "It's worked in the past for me."

Gerithor turned and looked at Gloin, a doubtful expression on his face. "I doubt it."

"It did!" Gloin replied indignantly.

Gerithor looked at the ground and shook his head. "Fine," He said after a moment. "But you're going last."

"Last is the safest anyway!" Gloin replied, crossing his arms and frowning.

Gerithor chose another ranger to accompany him, the injured man named Belon, and the two made their way across the road to the gate. They pulled their hoods over their heads and their cloaks around them to keep out the cold night air. After looking around, Gerithor rapped loudly on the door three times. A moment passed before the spy door opened and an older man looked grumpily out at them.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" He growled.

"Aye," Gerithor replied. "We just need to get inside for the night."

"Why?"

"We're meeting friends here." Gerithor smiled, but he knew his rugged appearance wasn't fooling the guard. The man looked down until his eyes rested on Gerithor's sword.

"Why the weapons?" The man asked, frowning at the two rangers.

"The road is dangerous these days," Gerithor replied. "I'd be a fool to travel unarmed."

"Aye, right you are. Bandits set fire to a carriage just last week," The guard said, shaking his head in disgust. "Alright, I'll let you two fellows in. Just don't cause any trouble, we've had more than our share of it lately."

"Oh we won't, believe you me," Gerithor replied as the guard opened the door. "I just want some warm food in my belly and a soft bed."

"Well, there's enough of that here to go around," the guard said as the rangers entered. "Keep out of trouble, you hear?"

"Aye, we will!" Gerithor said. The two rangers looked around, then made their way down the street into the town.

"Normally it's rainy and depressing here," Belon said.

"True, it seems like the road is a muddy mess more often than not. In fact, this is the first time I've been here that it isn't!" Gerithor replied.

"Where are we meeting with the rest of the boys?" Belon asked as he glanced at the dreary houses on either side of the road.

"We didn't exactly decide on a place," Gerithor replied uncertainly. His tired eyes scanned the buildings ahead until they landed on an inn.

"Go ask around in there, I'll search the rest of the town," He said as he pointed at the inn.

"I'll meet you by the stable," Belon replied. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and set off towards the inn, leaving Gerithor to stand alone in the road.

He slowly made his way down along a winding lane, making sure that he didn't draw unwanted attention as he went. He noticed several burly men who were clearly not from Bree stalking the street, laughing loudly and shouting slurred curses at each other. They were each armed with a crude falchion and they wore dark leather armor. As the ranger passed one of the men bumped into him, stumbling and letting out a growl as he recovered.

"Watch where you're goin', begger!" He shouted at Gerithor angrily.

Gerithor muttered an apology and began to continue on, but the man's companions blocked the way.

"You just offended our friend, begger," One of the men said with an evil grin.

"I meant no offense," the ranger replied, keeping his face down and hidden.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it," The man sneered as he leaned closer. "You're gonna have to pay."

Without a word Gerithor looked up, his cold grey eyes landing on the man. At the same time he pulled his cloak to the side, revealing the hilt of his ornate blade.

The man's eyes widened, and he took a step backward.

"Back away boys, this one's trouble!" He stammered.

The other men backed away in response, and one of them immediately fled into a nearby alley. Gerithor rested his hand on his sword and took a step forward.

"I don't like troublemakers and rabble rousers," He said, his voice quiet but menacing. "If I see any of you again, you won't be leaving this town alive. So I suggest you leave now, while you still can."

The men quickly turned tail and ran, leaving Gerithor alone once more in the street... Or so he thought. A slow clap echoed off the buildings, and as Gerithor spun around to face the sound a cloaked man emerged from an alley.

"Well done..." A deep voice said. "Well done."