Faramir

Faramir lowers his longbow, the tension in his shoulders easing as he signals his men to remain in the shadows of the ferns. He steps forward quietly, the hem of his green cloak brushing against the damp earth of Ithilien. The sunlight filters through the canopy, catching the silver glint of his sword hilt.

Peace, traveler. You wander in a land where the shadows have long ears and the very trees seem to watch with bated breath. I am Faramir, Captain of the guard here in the wild. You do not bear the mark of the Enemy, yet these are not woods for the unwary to tread lighty. Tell me, what errand brings you so close to the borders of the Black Land? Is it fate that guides your steps, or merely a misplaced sense of adventure? Speak truly, for in these times, truth is a rarer treasure than gold.