NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 2: chapter:2
A chill swept through the air, a nearly imperceptible sensation that Aragorn couldn't ignore. As he struggled to fend off the bandits, a shadow moved among the trunks with disconcerting agility. The stranger struck Gred, the bearded brigand, with a large hunting knife, and the latter crumpled silently, his fall absorbed by the mossy ground.
Aragorn dodged an attack to his right, his blade deflecting Harl's with precision. He prepared his counterattack, but now a second figure moved around him, attacking the bandits with impressive stealth and speed. Faren, attempting to circle around Aragorn, suddenly stumbled, his fall caused by what seemed like a slippery root.
Focused on his own fight, Aragorn noticed a faint tremor, a subtle shift in the atmosphere, but he had no time to ponder it further. The stranger continued to move with agility, using the elements of the forest to his advantage. Every time he raised his arm or moved, it seemed as if nature itself responded, though nothing was clear enough for Aragorn to be certain.
Bor, a man with a face hardened by battles, raised his sword but was caught off guard by a branch that briefly detached from a tree, striking his shoulder. The man wavered, and Aragorn took the opportunity to push him back with a kick. He felt that slight tension in the air again, like an imperceptible breath, but it was only a fleeting detail, quickly dissipated in the chaos of the fight.
The bandits retreated, unsettled by this invisible force seemingly working against them. Faren, the youngest of the group, froze, his eyes wide. After one last fearful glance, he fled, disappearing into the darkness. The stranger did not pursue him, merely sheathing his large hunting knife in a scabbard hanging on the same side as his sword, the movement fluid and controlled.
Aragorn straightened, his sword still in hand, watching the mysterious figure now standing motionless. "Who are you?" he asked in a rough voice, ready for anything. The stranger did not answer. He simply stared back, his face hidden under the shadow of his hood, then he bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed to mark the end of the altercation.
The ranger remained wary, sensing that this man concealed far more than his actions revealed. But before he could ask further questions, the stranger motioned with his hand, indicating that they should leave the area. Intrigued but still cautious, Aragorn followed, his senses alert, seeking to unravel the mystery of this silent ally.Aragorn moved cautiously behind the stranger, observing each of his movements as they ventured deeper into the Old Forest. The night enveloped the area in a dense shroud, the branches of the trees forming a tight canopy that let through only a few rays of moonlight. Owls hooted in the distance, and the rustling of leaves beneath their feet seemed amplified by the silence. The whisper of the wind, barely perceptible, wove through the trunks like a breath of warning.
The man walking ahead of him moved with a fluidity that reminded Aragorn of the Elves, but his stride was not light; it was grounded, solid, like that of someone used to long journeys and rough terrains. His build, though muscular, was not imposing. It seemed designed for endurance, to press on unrelentingly rather than to dominate through strength.
As they delved deeper into the forest, Aragorn noticed new details about the stranger. Under the pale moonlight, his green eyes, of an almost supernatural depth, glowed in the darkness. They caught the moon's reflection in a strange way, as if they possessed their own light. A shiver ran down Aragorn's spine; he felt as though those eyes could peer into the shadows, revealing secrets he himself could not perceive.
The man's face had the features of youth, but something about him betrayed a much older maturity, a wisdom beyond that of a mere traveler. His black hair, medium-length and slightly tousled, fell in strands around his face, enhancing the air of mystery surrounding him.
They reached a stream that shimmered faintly under the starlight. The stranger crouched to fill his canteen, his movements measured, his eyes fixed on the water as if seeking an omen. An owl, perched on a low branch, turned its head towards them, its piercing eyes reflecting a spectral light. The wind shifted slightly, and the leaves trembled, emitting an indecipherable whisper.
Aragorn crouched as well, extending his own canteen. The stranger took it wordlessly, filling it before returning it with a nod. This simple gesture, made in silence, carried weight—a silent message of understanding and recognition.
As they stood and prepared to continue their march, Aragorn couldn't help but notice those green eyes once more, which seemed almost to glow in the night. Their reflections danced, catching each ray of starlight as if they were particularly sensitive to light. The stranger briefly met his gaze, and in that fleeting exchange, Aragorn thought he sensed a flicker of understanding, perhaps even a silent camaraderie.
After several minutes of walking, Aragorn, intrigued, decided to break the silence. "I thank you for your help. Without you, I might not have survived that ambush."
The stranger stopped, turning slowly towards him, his movements measured as if he weighed each gesture. The forest's silence thickened around them, and only the light breeze rustled the leaves. He remained still for a moment, his deep green eyes probing Aragorn, then murmured, his grave voice blending with the darkness: "They have been following you... for some time."
Aragorn narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze scrutinizing the enigmatic figure. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, ready to react if necessary. "And how did you know I wouldn't have the advantage?" he asked, his voice soft but tense, his senses still on high alert.
The stranger remained silent for a moment, a flicker of caution passing through his eyes. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture barely perceptible under the canopy of branches. "I observed," he replied, a word that nearly faded into the night's murmur.