"We should keep clear of this area for the time being."
When the four Rangers, plus their captain, emerged from the underground hideout, the captain immediately made this decision.
"The Haradrim have lost dozens of men here. This won't remain secret for long, they'll certainly send search parties to scour the area."
Although the Haradrim were often called "southern barbarians," their military organization was anything but primitive or disorganized. Even if they lost a single soldier, they would investigate his whereabouts, let alone dozens.
The same held true for Gondor's reconnaissance teams, every member was precisely accounted for.
"Unfortunately, I lost consciousness before we reached the Haradrim encampment across the river, so I couldn't gather any useful intelligence."
"They not only caught me with vile deception and ambush tactics, but also captured one of our newer recruits."
On the way to their new position, the Ranger captain confided, "I remember that soldier well. Back in Gondor during training, he was particularly dedicated. He even volunteered to come to the front lines, saying he wanted to cleanse his family's dishonor and prove himself worthy."
"Family dishonor?"
Garrett picked up on the phrase that caught his interest.
Seeing Garrett's curiosity, the captain explained, "His ancestors once betrayed the people of Gondor, following the Usurper Castamir and later the Corsair lords of Umbar."
"But that was over a thousand years ago. Those of his bloodline who remained in Gondor have proven themselves to be honorable folk. By his generation, they were even eager to come to the front lines with us, striking at corsairs and Haradrim alike."
It should have been an inspiring tale, but unfortunately...
"I shouldn't have been so harsh with him that day."
"You two had a disagreement?"
The captain let out a heavy sigh.
"Yes."
He continued, "About a month ago, I disciplined him severely for leaving camp without permission during the night to forage for wild fruit. The very next day, during an ambush on a Haradrim patrol, he was taken prisoner."
"To this day, we've heard nothing of his fate."
The captain's voice grew more subdued at this point.
"But... the whole affair troubles me. That ambush went disastrously wrong. The Haradrim were unusually alert. In all our operations, only our opening volley was effective, after that, we were forced to withdraw to avoid heavier losses."
"We had many wounded from that engagement, and they're now recovering in a hidden camp further north."
"That's also where we're headed."
"Life is full of uncertainties. My condolences."
Garrett offered comfort to the Ranger captain, "He wasn't injured when captured, right? If he's physically strong, mentally resilient, and if the Haradrim have some use for him, then there's still hope he lives."
"I pray that's so."
The captain replied, "Back in Gondor, a wise old man in grey robes once told me, though we cannot alter what has already come to pass, we can choose how we respond thereafter."
Grief changes nothing. All a person can do after tragedy strikes is determine their own course of action without delay.
"Since I returned alive, there's still opportunity to make things right."
"Well said."
With Garrett's response, the topic came to a temporary close.
They followed an ancient road, built by Gondorians over a thousand years ago when Harondor was still under Gondor's dominion, northward for some distance. When the road straightened after a bend, they left it and turned westward.
Before long, a small lake appeared ahead. In this location, the vegetation and grass were far more lush than in the surrounding regions, brimming with life.
Now, the little oasis lay peaceful, with only the gentle sound of wind proving it wasn't merely a painting.
The breeze flowing in from beyond the oasis carried with it the dryness and heat of the wasteland, yet all of that seemed to dissipate as it passed through the leaves and grass.
"What a nice place."
Garrett walked along the lakeshore, cupped some water in his hands, and felt a cool sensation against his palms.
"Where's your base?"
Standing up, he walked over to the Rangers and asked, hands resting on his hips.
The Rangers were clustered beside a tree with a slightly twisted trunk, glancing about as though waiting for something.
As Garrett approached, the Ranger captain took two steps toward him, but before he could speak, Garrett suddenly halted, his gaze sharpening toward a patch of grass beside him.
"What...?"
Where did this health bar come from?
He reached out to push aside the "grass," when suddenly it shifted. It turned over, revealing a pair of wide, startled eyes staring back at him.
"Ah!"
The sudden movement startled him so much that he leaped back several paces, and when his heel landed on another patch of "grass" behind him, the ground gave way beneath his foot.
He vanished from sight.
"By the Valar—"
The Ranger captain sucked in a sharp breath, then quickly slid down a rope with the others.
Thump.
"Unbelievable... of all the injuries I've sustained in Harad so far, the worst one ends up being fall damage, and in this fashion..."
Garrett climbed to his feet, brushed off imaginary dust, and looked upward.
Only then did he see several Rangers, along with their captain, rappelling down through an opening above.
"My apologies, I should have warned you earlier. Are you injured?"
"I'm fine."
His health instantly recovered to maximum.
Garrett waved dismissively and looked around. "This place is really well hidden."
It was a natural sandstone cavern shaped like a ring, spacious enough, if packed tightly, to accommodate several hundred people.
Looking up, there was a large opening above. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the leaves, giving the place a touch of natural light.
The entrance, however, was nearly impossible to spot. That crooked tree above perfectly concealed it, and he had stepped through the leaves directly into empty air.
"I thought... ah, never mind."
He shook his head, giving up on making excuses for his misstep.
Still, now he truly understood the effectiveness of the Rangers' camouflage.
Dressed in mixed shades of green and brown, they could stand beside a tree and blend seamlessly with its bark and leaves. If you didn't look carefully, you'd never realize they were people at all.
There was good reason the Haradrim lived in constant wariness.
In just the brief moment they'd been talking, several more Rangers, alerted by the sound of his fall, had silently approached, only relaxing when they confirmed he was friendly.
"Captain?"
They looked surprised.
"I made it back alive. This friend here saved my life."
The Ranger captain introduced him: "Many of you have probably heard his name, founder of the Free Settlements, bane of evil creatures, the legendary Garrett."
The introduction was brief, but sufficient for the assembled Rangers to connect the scattered rumors they'd heard with the man standing before them.
"Well met."
The Rangers saluted one after another.
Garrett nodded in acknowledgment.
The Ithilien Rangers were among the finest of Men. Tall of stature, fair of complexion, with dark hair and grey eyes, their proud faces bore a touch of melancholy. Swords hung at their sides, and in their hands they carried broad-bladed spears that gleamed bright, or great bows nearly as tall as a man. The archers' large quivers were filled with long, green-feathered arrows. They wore garments of green and brown in varying shades, so that they were less easily seen moving through the woodlands of Ithilien. Green bracers covered their forearms, their heads were hooded, and green masks covered their faces, only their bright, keen eyes remained visible.