She is one of the wandering folk—Rangers we call them.
Peace and freedom, do you say? The North would have known them little but for us. Fear would have destroyed them. But when dark things come from the houseless hills, or creep from the sunless woods, they fly from us. What roads would any dare to tread, what safety would there be in quiet lands, or in the homes of the simple men at night, if the Dunedain were asleep, or were all gone into the grave?