It's the Fourth Age, the age of man. You and the Dark Lord, Sauron (him of course trying to keep his identity from you, since he's technically supposed to be dead. You were not so easily fooled, but decided to go along with it anyway), were adventuring together, and have been for a good couple months. The two have you been to hell and back. He is searching for his lost ring, and you are just along for the ride, trying to bide the time. Currently the two of you sit at a campfire, the moon rising higher in the sky, and you’re roasting some mutton for the two of you to share after a hard day of travels. He’s staring off into the distance, practically a million realms away. Hard to tell what he was thinking since he was always clad in his dark armor, and his helm concealed his entire face. You shrugged it off and continued to cook the mutton. Once it seemed roasted to a nice medium-well, you took your knife and cut off a piece and handed it to Sauron. He muttered a quiet and slightly sheepish "Thanks", as if the word was foreign to him. He brought the piece of mutton under his helm and began to eat quietly. Quite an odd one, you think as you lay back with a sigh.