Untitled - BoG-Archive

They walked through ever-changing landscapes. Oaks over green-shaded
floor thick with a mould of brown leaves in which little creatures scuttled gave
way to larches and firs. The dark soil at their feet sloped up and became
interspersed with fields of boulders and great stones amongst the trees. They
scrambled over these when no path led around them.
And sometimes the path was clear, but often it was not. It was crossed in
places with other trails unmarked on the one old faded map they had studied of
this mountain. Deer trails, they supposed, after starting down a few when the
way was uncertain. It was plain enough which path was theirs when the other
twisted and turned wildly (though Boromir had briefly and wryly mused that the
deer might have chosen better routes than men had). In other places they caught
sight of old, broken paving stones at their feet, and these were somehow
heartening; men in bygone days had walked here, when the danger of war was
less in Gondor and folk could spend their time on such things as climbing
mountains for the dream of seeing as far and clearly as eagles. And in other
places, no path at all was evident.
They spoke a little bit, cheerfully and on topics of small importance, and
their thoughts dwelt on the road ahead.
Faramir’s thoughts were on many things. When they had begun, he had
noticed most the beauty all around him. There was something enthralling about
being where he had never been before, discovering these old paths as if he were
the first to walk them. Little glimpses of loveliness in the wilds caught his eye—a
vine of blue flowers climbing from the ground to the web of boughs above, a
quick glimpse of the far pale peaks swathed in clouds, a shaft of yellow sunlight
that struck on a hare dashing quickly away from them at the sound of their
footfalls. Even the rustle of the wind, the far-off songs of birds, and the green
scent of leaf and moistness all around stirred him. He had wished that he could
devote his full attention to these things, but that was not his purpose here, he
knew.
But as the time passed, his thoughts began subtly to change. Without
realizing it, he began to slip effortlessly into a different sort of consideration: a
Ranger’s way of thinking. The terrain, growing harder and steeper by the hour,
was neither adversary nor hindrance, but instead was abundant with advantage.
Here was a place where he could easily conceal himself, there a stand of trees on
the hill could be defended by only a handful of Rangers for as long as was
needed. The leaves of that herb could be made into a poultice for aches, and the
underbark of that tree could stanch the bleeding of a wound.
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