After the names were exchanged and the company departed, there hadn't been much going on for a few miles, only silence and occasional remark, all of them perhaps needing time to relax in new company, as was often the case with travelers, especially those as peculiar as that fellowship was. Ofnir rode in front, smoking and frowning as usual, not minding the newcomer that much at that point, but nevertheless making a
hmmm noise and snorting at something, something that had to be a product of his mind, for nothing unusual went about them or the newcomer, and no omens were there to prelude anything remotely dark, save of course the ones shaped like walking dead that they had left burning behind and that now only lingered in the mind.
Just as he was getting uneasy in the saddle, for that feeling of apprehension would not leave him be, there appeared in front of them the valley he had on his mind as a resting place: an oasis of lush green encompassing a small pond that could have easily been called a smaller lake, ever hot and steaming, even in the darkest of winters. The flora around it never died and no one knew why, but Ofnir had heard a legend of two from the elves, that Oromë himself used to bathe there and rest on his hunting trips, and that he shot a falling star with his bow and made it fall into the lake, thus making it forever warm and brilliant.
"Here we are," Ofnir said, pointing at the marvelous verdure in front of them, but he was merely stating the obvious, for surely the sight must had caught the eye of everyone long before he spoke.
"We rest there, where even the Hunter used to lay down and close his eyes. Come!"With a puff and another
hmmm, he rode on down the declining path, following the creek towards its end.