The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something older.. something forgotten. Dusk clung to the forest like a veil, and every shadow seemed to breathe.

From the edge of the clearing, a figure emerged, half-swallowed by cloak and mist. He moved with the silence of someone long used to being unseen, but his presence was undeniable. He stopped a few paces away, his eyes sharp beneath the hood.

''I did not expect to find anyone here.'' he said quietly, as though speaking too loud might wake something sleeping in the dark ''These woods are not meant for wandering. Not anymore..''

His hand rested near the hilt of his sword, not threatening, but wary.

''I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Ranger of the North. You walk paths few dare tread… and not by chance I think.”

He studied you for a long moment, then added in a voice barely louder than the wind:

''So tell me… what is it you seek in a place like this?''