HARRY POTTER:The Witness of the First Breaths

The rangers around them burst into laughter at Calion's remark, and Halbarad shook his head, amused. "Always so enigmatic, that one," he said, raising his hands in mock defeat. "But we know that behind that mystery lies the heart of a ranger."

As they made their way toward the camp's center, they passed several scenes of daily life. A group of rangers worked on repairing a cart near the forge, while further away, men and women busied themselves grinding medicinal herbs, weaving clothing, or preparing fishing nets. All around them, laughter echoed, conversations flowed, and the sound of hammers striking anvils set the rhythm of the camp's activity. It was a true hub of life, where everyone played an essential role in ensuring the survival and well-being of all.

Calion, although often standing slightly apart, had integrated himself into this community of rangers. Each morning, before dawn, he would rise to check the traps he had set in the surrounding woods. When he returned, he often brought back small game, which he either prepared himself or left for others to handle. He also helped strengthen the camp's defenses, testing the sturdiness of the wooden palisades or advising on traps to set at strategic points.

As they approached the center, they stopped near the makeshift stables where a few of the troupe's horses were being tended by young rangers. Althar, a young ranger whom Calion had taken under his wing, approached with a determined expression. "Calion, I found a stone like the one you showed me. Can you help me sharpen my blade?"

Calion nodded in agreement and crouched down near the forge's workshop, where tools gleamed in the firelight. He took the stone and began demonstrating the precise, slow, and steady movement needed to sharpen a blade. The young ranger watched with near-reverent attention, his eyes following every gesture of his mentor. Although Calion spoke little, his teachings were clear; his movements and looks alone were enough to guide those who wished to learn.

Later, he went to the stream to wash the hides of the animals he had caught earlier that morning. The cold water stung his fingers, but he was used to it. Nearby, two ranger women, Míriel and Elda, chatted while weaving fishing nets. Míriel, a close friend of Aragorn, gave him a warm smile. "Calion, it seems you never stop. Come rest for a bit and chat with us."

Calion looked up, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. "Always a net to mend or a blade to sharpen, Míriel. But if I finish in time, I'll join you." His words, though brief, were accompanied by a knowing glance.

Elda chuckled, turning towards him. "Well, we'll never change you, Calion. Always on the move, but at least we know we can count on you."

Calion responded with a wink, adding, "And you make the sturdiest nets. One day, I may need to ask your advice for my traps."

The women laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the exchange. Calion focused again on his task but remained attentive, occasionally responding to their anecdotes with a comment or a smile. Even though he spoke little, his gestures and looks showed that he appreciated their company and was truly a part of this community.

The rangers in the camp had come to know this side of Calion—a man of few words, certainly, but one who always took time to interact with those around him. Whether he brought in game, patrolled the borders, or helped with daily tasks like sharpening blades, he was present and accessible, offering his company with a natural simplicity that endeared him to all.

As evening fell, the rangers gathered around the large central fire for their meal. The venison grilled over the embers, and lively conversations filled the air. The fire cast dancing shadows over the tired but smiling faces of the company, offering a moment of rest after a day of patrols and work.

Calion settled beside Aragorn, slightly apart but visibly at ease. Halbarad stood up, a mug in hand, looking mischievous. "Come on, we all know that story about how Calion saved us from the avalanche," he began, his voice full of enthusiasm. "But what you might not know is how he did it."

All eyes turned to Calion, and the rangers nodded, eager to hear the tale. Halbarad continued, pausing theatrically. "Imagine it: a mass of snow thunders down the slope, a real white wall! We panic, we run, and Calion, well, he just stands there, calm as ever."

Amused murmurs rippled through the group, and the rangers leaned closer to the fire. "He turns around and says to me: 'We go that way.'" Halbarad imitated Calion's calm gesture, pointing to a steep path that, by his account, seemed to lead straight into nothingness. "I swear, I thought we'd end up at the bottom of a ravine. But he insisted. And it was a passage he'd scouted weeks earlier while exploring the area. The snow just missed us, but thanks to him, we all made it out."

The rangers applauded, some nodding appreciatively. "He's got an eye for it, that's for sure," said a sun-tanned ranger, raising his mug to Calion. Another added, "With him, we could cross mountains blindfolded!"

Calion, a discreet smile on his lips, raised his mug in response. "You have to keep a few tricks up your sleeve," he replied, relaxed but with a hint of pride.

As the atmosphere grew warmer and the rangers shared more stories, a young ranger named Althar stood up, a cheeky grin on his face. "And what about that famous doe, Calion? The one that sent you running last year?"

Laughter erupted, and Calion raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation while smiling. "Althar, be careful, or you might end up with wet feet in the stream," he joked.