"It was a pleasure to meet you, Strider! I heard you were the Ranger known as Strider in the North?" Roland curiously sized up the man before him, a man spoken of as though he were a savior.
The original description went like this: Aragorn was already eighty-seven when he first appeared in The One Ring, but due to the Dúnedain's long lifespan, he had actually only completed a third of his life's journey. (Aragorn was two hundred and ten when he died. At that time, he had "thick, black hair streaked with gray," a "lean" yet "pale and resolute" face, "keen gray eyes" that shone brightly, and a "deep, rich voice." Years of travel had left their "marks" upon Aragorn's face. As a "wanderer," he was not "fair," yet in his youth he had been "tall and handsome," like a "young monarch." Though Aragorn rarely wore fine clothes during his travels, the majesty of Isildur's heir would always burst forth at the proper moment. He was "spirited," his "figure seeming to suddenly grow taller," radiating "unmatched strength and kingly authority." Such royal majesty could win over friends and frighten off enemies...)
Yet at this moment, Roland's attention was drawn to the still-young Aragorn! Aragorn was tall and handsome then! He had a towering build, black hair as dark and glossy as Roland's own, and eyes that gleamed with a light called hope!
"Hello, Ara... Strider!" Roland gave Aragorn a meaningful look and nodded at him.
"So, what explanation do you have for your actions?" Roland raised his chin. Though he had probably guessed Aragorn's intentions, the authority of a nation did not permit him to brush the matter aside so lightly.
"It was like this, Your Majesty Roland. We saw that Bone Dragon, so we thought we might be