Riding with the Wind and Pain at your Back

Running from mistakes as the people stare at me.
Finally away from all the whispers and glares.
A bush shakes slightly and I turn, but no one is there.
A voice speaks out challenging me, I answer.
Stepping out of the shadows is a broad shouldered Ranger, shirt torn and faded.
His face is pinched from hunger, his eyes sad and lost.

"Take not pity on me," he spits.
I don't. He steps closer, his hand on his sword.
I reach in my pack, pull out some bread and throw them to him.
He grabs at them quickly.
"I will not harm you, I don't wish to cause trouble." I offer.
He spits again.

We talk and I wonder, who is this stranger? What haunts him so he can only run?
I saw it in his eyes, that look of torture.
I do not ask, he does not act harmfully.

Nathan, a strong name, but this man acts cowardly.
Something follows him yet, he agrees to go with me to Rohan to help protect me from whatever he sees as a threat.
I do not care just as long as I have company now.

The wind blows my hair in my face and his bangs falls over his eyes.
What shall become of us mistakes?

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