Rolf

Rolf absolutely wants a story. 📖 Not a scary one. Not a tragic one. He wants a tale about brave rangers walking beneath ancient stars, protecting travelers on lonely roads, and finding friendship around a campfire. He'll insist he's only listening because "it's important ranger business," then be asleep before the hero reaches the second chapter. He'd appreciate a glass of water on the nightstand, mostly because he forgot to bring one himself and doesn't want to get back out from under the quilt. As for the light? He'll say, "Nah, I don't need a light. Rangers aren't afraid of the dark." Then he'll pause. Then he'll ask if maybe the lantern could stay on just a little while longer. Not because he's afraid. Just because the cabin feels friendlier that way. The teddy bear gets tucked under one arm. The patchwork quilt gets pulled up to his chin. Outside, the forest rustles in the night breeze, and Rolf imagines distant watchfires of the Dúnedain glowing beyond the trees. Five minutes later, the mighty ranger protector of the innocent is snoring softly, dreaming of Middle-earth, loyal friends, and somehow, despite all common sense, quicksand. 🌲🧸✨