[bilbo_baggins]

As Aras stoked the now-low fire, he wondered what exactly had brought him here, to the junction of the Celduin and Carnen rivers. He did not have any pressing errands, and the orcs were all but exterminated these days. Nothing was urgent, but this sense would not leave him that he was needed here for some reason. He thought of all he had done to get here, namely disturbing a few orcs in the progress of licking their wounds after the Great war, and slaying a lone cave troll in hiding deep in Mirkwood - but that wasn't what they called it anymore was it, - and risking his life in various and sundry ways so far; and he wished to know why... someone better have some answers.

But he was enjoying himself so far, with the river flowing by and the breeze feeding the fire and refreshing him; it was enjoyable. Almost too much; such pleasure almost affidavited the sinking specter of death on the horizon, which nothing could stop. He had never felt so helpless, and so alone.

As the fire started to build itself up on the wood he fed it, he prepared a haunch of meat for the flame; a large enough piece to last him for several days... he knew he should be expecting some people.