Oft times he will take a watch not his own rather than wait for the ungentle dreams that stalk him in the dark.

He tells me that it was night that brought the enemy, the hordes of Orc intent on destroying his city, his people; he tells me that moonless nights were worst, when inky blackness would discharge the hosts of Mordor.

I would banish the darkness that haunts his eyes as he remembers each battle lost, each comrade fallen. But I can only offer him myself, and hope a Ranger's touch will light his way.