Ruinferil's Journey

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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Greg »

You know us Rangers...we're child-snatchers, the lot o' us, that we are.

Stupid bree-folk.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Hehe. You know we're guilty of all sorts of mischief. One good thing about recovering from the flu is that I can at least catch up on some writing. So, here's how that little episode played out.

Soon, the constable arrived. He quickly took charge of the Inn, separating the men of Bree from the rangers. Angarth drew the line at allowing Ruinferil to be separated from him.
“Sir, it is only so we can get to the bottom of this. I assure you!” Constable Franks insisted.
“How do I know you won’t turn her words to say something to incriminate me?” Angarth asked.
“And how do we know your presence won’t intimidate her into saying what you want her to say?” Blurted one of the mob.
Angarth felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to his daughter. “Papa, it is all right. We’ve nothing to hide about our journey, do we?”
“You’ll go with these people?” Angarth asked. Ruinferil looked nervous. “Do you want someone to go with you?” The girl nodded.
“Who?” Asked her father. She pointed a finger at the young brunette that had waited on them earlier.
Angarth turned to the barmaid and called her over. “It seems my daughter requests your company as these men take her away to question her. Will you go?”
“I will, Sir.” The woman answered, “And I’ll see to it that she is well taken care of.”
Franks turned to a bystander. “Go and get me the night watch to make sure this character doesn’t sneak away while we talk to this poor girl.” Ruinferil shot the constable an incredulous look. The bystander was out the door and searching for the watch in a second. Suddenly the whole town was abuzz with the news that a ranger was on trial for kidnapping.

Ruinferil followed the constable and the young barmaid to a parlor off to the side of the great room. Franks sat on one side of a round table. The barmaid sat to his right while Ruinferil was directed to a seat across from him.
The constable’s blue eyes studied the girl for a long moment, making her uncomfortable. Finally he spoke, “So, where do you come from?”
“We come from a village in the North Downs.”
“North of Fornost?”
“Yessir.”
“When did he take you?”
“We left home about a week ago.” Ruinferil said. “We stayed in Fornost the first night, but since then we have camped under the stars. It’s been a lot of fun.”
“So he took you from your home a week ago?”
“Yessir.” Ruinferil answered, too young to understand where the line of questioning was leading.
“Tell me who your parents are so we can get you back to them safely.”
Ruinferil was confused. “My mother is Gilraen, a good name among our people, and my father is Angarth.” She gestured toward the great room where her father waited. “I have a brother named Elyon. He usually goes out with Papa, but this time Papa wanted to take me.”
_________________________________

Angarth sat between the two night watchmen somewhat amused. Barth stood before him threatening with his axe. The ranger fought hard to conceal his smirk. The night watch stood ready with their spears in hand. They winced every time the ranger moved. Sometimes they even threatened to poke him a time or two if he made any sort of move they didn’t like.
Suddenly the door to the Inn burst open. Martha marched in and straight up to the counter. Looking Butterbur hard in the face, she demanded, “What is this nonsense I’ve heard comin’ outta here?”
“M-Martha? What are you talking about?” Butterbur studdered. She turned and her eyes fell on Angarth. “Where are ye holdin’ that man’s lovely daughter?”
“They’re in the parlor.” Before Butterbur could continue, Martha turned and stormed toward the door. Two watchmen stood guard at the door. “Move!” She demanded. They dared not stand against her wrath and were out of her way before she could reach for the latch.
Martha was in the room like a whirlwind. She stomped to the table and arrested Ruinferil’s hand. “They didn’t hurt ye did they, love?”
“No Ma’am.” Ruinferil said, smiling at the woman. She really liked Martha.
“Let’s get ye back to yer Papa and get all this settled.”
“Now wait just a minute!” Objected the constable, standing to confront the candy merchant. “You’re interfering with a criminal investigation here!”
“Criminal investigation?” Bellowed Martha. “The only crime committed here is snatchin’ this poor young’un away from her Papa and scarin’ her half to death!” Before the constable could object further, Martha whisked Ruinferil out of the room and back toward her father.
Two other men had arrived in Martha’s wake. They were the watch that was on duty when Angarth and Ruinferil rode into town. Martha released Ruinferil’s hand and she ran into Angarth’s arms. Angarth barely stifled his glee as he watched things that were now outside his control unfold before him.
Martha shot a hand toward the night watch. “Tell the people here what you saw.”
“Well, we were on watch.” One of the men began, “We saw two rangers ride through the gate. They were them two there.” He pointed to Angarth and Ruinferil. Ruinferil felt pride at being called a ranger.
“Did the girl look like she was afraid of the man at all?” Constable Franks asked.
“Nay, she was completely comfortable with him. They looked like father and daughter to me.”
Martha gave her account of her meeting with the rangers. Soon apologies were being made. The watch was dismissed. Franks turned to the Innkeeper.
“Butterbur, this is what you get for servin’ ale this early in the mornin’.” His eyes scanned the room. “It would be wise for you gentlemen to finish up here and go sleep it off or go to work. Though if you worked for me, I’d fire the lot of you.” With that, he turned and left the Inn.

Angarth stood and approached the bar with Ruinferil close behind.
“I’ll be squaring up my tab and leaving now.” He announced to Butterbur.
“Y-you can’t go now. It’s starting to rain out there.” Butterbur pleaded.
“Why would I stay here?” Angarth growled.
“Well, you didn’t help matters any what with going for your sword and threatening folks and all.” Butterbur defended. “But you shouldn’t take the lass into the weather like this. Stay here until the storm passes at least. Don’t worry about the bill. We’ll overlook that.”
“A storm in the wilds is of little concern for a ranger.” Angarth said, “What concerns me more is the threat of men who have already tried to take away that which is dear to me. There’s not a man here I trust.”
“If not a man, then what about a Dwarf?” The harsh dwarvish voice rang out. Angarth had not noticed that the door to the Inn had opened while he spoke to Butterbur. Turning, Angarth saw Baraz, his friend, standing in the door with twelve of his stout dwarves with him.
“Will ye stay if a friend provides a guard for yer room that no man shall penetrate?”
“I’ll stay for such a friend as you.” Angarth said with a smile.
“It looks like ye’ve a tale to tell here.” Beraz surmised.
“Yes, but it looks to have a happy ending.”
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by kaelln »

Ooooh! A troop of Dwarves! Too bad you settled up about the kidnapping business. That would have made for a great bar fight!
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

(smacks head) Doh!!! Man if only I had thought of that before it got settled! Don't worry though. Beraz and gang will possibly be seen again. :twisted:
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Okay, I've let this one sit long enough. Here's the next installment:


The rain lasted three days and nights. Angarth and Ruinferil stayed on at the Inn with Beraz and his kin for a week. They were in no hurry and Angarth was growing quite fond of the Dwarf. Ruinferil heard the tale of her father and brother among the Dwarves two years earlier. She had grown tired of hearing it from Elyon, but it was different when Beraz told it. There was a different side to it and for the first time, she truly thanked her brother in her heart for the part he played in bringing these wonderful people safely out of the orc-infested forest, then going back in to rescue her father from their clutches. She had always thought Elyon embellished the stories of that day. But now she found that he had not told of everything he had done to earn the strange axe he brought home from that journey. Beraz seemed to hint at something much deeper between his clan and her little family. He spoke of them almost as if they were a part of his Dwarvish clan. This also she pondered in her heart.
Now and then, a lively tune would play and Ruinferil would dance before the Dwarves and her father. At other times, Angarth would play a tune upon his whistle and Ruinferil would sing a song of their people away north. Ruinferil won the heart of Beraz as well as the other patrons of the Inn. They now wondered how they could have misunderstood her for a kidnapped and frightened little girl when they heard her songs of the strange people they knew as rangers.
With a week having passed since the rendezvous with the Dwarves, it came time to say goodbye. Ruinferil wept openly as the stable hands led the horses out, saddled and ready to go. Martha gave her some traveling goods and some candy to be shared with her kind father on the journey before them. Beraz and his Dwarves were headed west to trade at the ports away over there. He and Angarth embraced one another tightly and with glad smiles wished each other safe travels. As Angarth said his farewells to the other Dwarves, Ruinferil stood before Beraz, tall enough to have to look down slightly to see his eyes. He saw the tear tracks running down her fair face and the struggle to keep more from rushing forth. His hard hands gently stroked her red hair from her face and cupped her cheek. With a thumb, he wiped away a tear that spilled over.
“There, there young lass.” Beraz’s voice was soothing. “Weep not at our parting. I would remember ye happy and dancin’ and singin’.” He swallowed his emotions. “Oh, what would banish yer tears?” His dark eyes danced for a moment, then he reached into his belt and took out a Dwarvish dagger with its fine wooden scabbard. He shot a look at Angarth in a silent request for his permission. Angarth nodded slightly with a smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. Beraz drew the curved dagger from its sheath and showed the blade to the girl. “I forged it meself. I’ve tried to think of a name for it, but ‘ave come up blank. Per’aps ye may think of an appropriate name for it.” He resheathed the blade and handed it to Ruinferil. “A gift and a small token of our kinship.” At the word, “kinship,” Ruinferil’s eyes widened. Kinship was not a word carelessly thrown around. Beraz glanced at Angarth and found him occupied with the other Dwarves, then shushed the young girl. “We need not bother yer Papa with that little bit o’ information yet. But I’d be honored if ye would take the dagger and remember me when ye see it.”
Ruinferil drew the blade from its scabbard and examined it. “Careful Lass.” Warned the Dwarf. “It’s sharp.” The blade was double-edged and curved. The steel seemed to have a dragon scale pattern forged into it. It was a beauty unlike any she had ever seen.
“I will never be parted with it. I will call it Beraz, in honor if its maker.” Ruinferil proclaimed. Beraz beamed with pride and gave the lass a tight embrace before she said her farewells to the rest of the party.

Soon, Angarth led the horses eastward, toward Weathertop. The townspeople turned out to see them off and wish them fair travels. Once they were away from the town and on the road, Angarth turned his eyes upon his daughter.
“Can I see the dagger?”
Ruinferil removed the weapon from her belt and handed it to her father. He drew it and scrutinized its every feature. The blade was as Ruinferil had seen it, with a scaly appearance. The guard and pommel were of bronze with an amethyst set in the pommel. The handle was a light colored wood with typical Dwarvish figures carved into it. Angarth shaved a spot on his arm and found the blade to be very sharp. He sheathed the dagger and handed it back to her.
“A fine gift.” He commented. “Dwarves value their work highly. They are not lightly parted from it. You should consider yourself blessed to own such a fine blade from such a fine Dwarf.” There was a silence between them for a while.
“Have you had fun on our trip so far?” Angarth asked.
“I have.”
“Have you learned anything?”
Ruinferil was silent for a while, troubled. She said slowly, “I have learned that I have been unfair to Elyon.” Angarth sat silent, waiting for her to lay out her confession before him. “I owe him much more than I thought, Papa. He saved Beraz and he went back for you. He does not boast about it as he could. And I have always hated to hear him tell the story.”
“Because you are jealous.” Angarth said softly.
“No! It’s…” Angarth cut a loving eye to his daughter. “Yes Papa, I was jealous.”
“Because he gets to go out with me while you stay home?”
“Yes, and he gets to have these grand adventures with you.”
There was silence again.
“My sweet girl, my relationship with Elyon is different than my relationship with you. I love you both dearly and equally. If you were parted from me, you cannot imagine how I would search for you day and night until I found you. But I must train Elyon to be a man. A Dunedan. Mostly unloved and misunderstood by the world he will strive to protect. You know the Elves and now a few Dwarves that we are friendly to. But you have now caught a glimpse of those who do not trust or like us. Those that we are sworn to protect.” Angarth was silent for a moment. “Elyon is a fine young man.” Now he looked full on his daughter. “And you are a fine young woman and the light of my eyes.”
Ruinferil’s face lit up in delight and love for her father.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Mirimaran »

Outstanding read! Well done and well written!
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Thanks Ken. I just read it to the kids. They enjoyed it. There are a couple of spots where the wording wasn't as smooth as it could have been. But it didn't hurt the tale any.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

So I have at last gotten back to the old manuscripts. Here is only a small bit of what remains to be told:

Angarth and Ruinferil rode together toward the east. They talked pleasantly about the weather. The skies were a beautiful blue since the rain had passed. Flowers and grasses were blooming along the roadside. Ruinferil grew quiet after a while. Angarth sang softly a song of their people.
“Papa?” Ruinferil asked. Angarth looked at his daughter. “Could you tell me a story about when you went away to fight the Haradrim?”
Angarth’s face grew dark as he looked upon his daughter and she was sorry she asked. He stared forward, deep distress in his eyes from old memories. Then his face grew gentle once more.
“Well, I did not go away to fight the Haradrim.” He corrected. “That just sort of happened.” The girl’s face smiled with satisfaction as she knew she was in for a story now. So for the next several miles, he told of his adventures in Far Harad. As the sun westered and night began to creep in around them, they found a safe place to make camp beside the road. They ate and slept, though Angarth slept lightly, always at least somewhat alert to every sound.
After several days of good travel, the father and daughter made their way to Weathertop. They mounted its heights about midday. Ruinferil looked around in awe at the crumbling statues and the far reaching view. Angarth gathered some dry wood left by his brethren as they passed through. They often left behind goods to be used by other rangers. Soon he had a fire burning and was cooking rabbit he had taken earlier that morning. Throughout midday meal, Ruinferil asked many questions about the statues and the structure. Angarth only smiled and ate. He was not in a hurry to leave this spot today. He felt at home among these ruins. After lunch he stretched out, loosening one boot before he did. Ruinferil looked long at him, willing at least one answer to her many questions out of him. At last he spoke. The afternoon and early evening were spent telling – and sometimes reenacting – stories of the Dunedain, tales of battles and adventures long forgotten by all but the Dunedain. Ruinferil fell asleep close to her father content and a little more learned that night.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Mirimaran »

Great story to share with the kids! :)

Ken
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Would that it remained so. The translation is troubling.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Couldn't sleep, so here is the next brief installment of Ru's adventures:

“Hullo there!” The words echoed into Ruinferil’s dreams as from a distance.
“Hullo yourself.” Ruinferil heard her father reply. She opened her eyes to see him already dressed for the day and peering over the wall to the road below.
“We saw the smoke from your fire and wondered who would be about in these parts.” Ruinferil noticed the strange accent in the voice that called up to them. She noted that Angarth seemed uneasy. His hand was on the hilt of his sword and he glanced over his should at the path leading to the hilltop.
“Your men need not come up.” There was a threat in Angarth’s voice.
“But we are already here!” The voice startled Ruinferil as the one who spoke stepped into view. There were three men dressed in loose black clothing. At their sides were long shamshirs . Haradrim! Ruinferil was on her feet and hiding behind her father in a flash. Autheg leapt into Angarth’s hand. He guarded his daughter and held the sword at the ready. The Haradrim held their hands up in a placating manner.
“You need not fear us. We are mere merchants. We were hoping to find a band of travelers that we may trade with them.”
Angarth did not like the looks of these men. He did not fully believe their story. He hoped the uneasiness he felt was only old prejudices left over from his battles with men such as these.
“Perhaps you can sheath your fine sword and we could talk?” The leader of the men suggested. “We have not yet broken our fast. Perhaps we could do it together? At our camp? We would show you such hospitality as you have not seen in a very long time I’ll wager.”
Angarth did not like the idea of going to these men’s camp. But he saw little choice unless he was ready to kill and die there with his daughter in tow. He knew the customs of some of these traveling merchants. They would most likely spend the day and maybe a night with them and part ways having traded some goods. But if he refused to go, it would be insulting to the man and he would have to fight his way out of Weathertop. With a sigh, he placed his sword into its scabbard.
“Guests then!” The leader declared. “My master will be pleased!”

Angarth and Ruinferil gathered their things and saddled their mounts. Soon they were riding with five Haradrim toward the east. Before long they came to the outskirts of the large camp. The riders were greeted by men and veiled women shouting and dancing jubilantly as they entered the camp. The Haradrim riders called the troupe to a halt. Angarth and Ruinferil dismounted with the other riders and stable hands took the horses away to be looked after. The men started off toward the center of the camp, expecting Angarth to follow. Ruinferil took a step, but Angarth’s hand was on her arm, holding her near. He drew close to her ear and said in the Elven tongue, “Ru, it is best if you keep your gift well hidden until such a time as is should be needed.”
Ru thought for a moment before her blue eyes lit up with understanding. She was anxious to show off her Dwarven dagger, but if Father said to keep it hidden, then that is precisely what she would do.
Soon, Angarth and Ruinferil were standing before a man who was a bit younger than Angarth. He was surrounded by servants in fine clothing. Ruinferil noticed the women dressed in light flowing colorful garments that caught every breeze. Their faces were veiled but the material was sheer and barely masked their beauty. Ruinferil looked up at her father who seemed to take little notice of the women. His eyes were on the young prince. The men who escorted the rangers all went to one knee, bowing their heads before their leader. They spoke a greeting in their tongue which Angarth recognized though he knew little of their language. Then they spoke in the common tongue, “Exalted Prince Yusuf, we your humble servants bring you Angarth, the Ranger of the North and Ruinferil, his lovely daughter.”
Angarth slightly bowed his head, his eyes never leaving Yusuf. Ruinferil watched her father and mimicked his gesture.
“Angarth of the North!” Yusuf said in a rich voice, “You and your daughter are welcome here!”
“Thank you Lord Yusuf.” Angarth spoke in a steady voice that seemed friendly enough to all but Ruinferil. She could read the apprehension in her father. Angarth noticed that while Yusuf spoke, his eyes seldom left Ruinferil. This bothered him. When the eyes did venture to Angarth, though he smiled, there was evil hidden behind his friendly mask. Yusuf clapped his hands twice and issued orders in his own strange tongue. The women who had been flocked around scattered in a whirlwind of bright clothing. Pillows were placed beside the prince and a low table was set before him. Two women stepped forward, one each taking Angarth and Ruinferil by the hands and leading them to the pillows. Ru tugged on Angarth’s sleeve when they were close to Yusuf. Angarth bent to hear her.
“Papa, where are the chairs?”
Angarth smiled, “They do not use chairs when they dine. They lounge at their tables.”
“That is correct.” Yusuf agreed as they came near. “Eating is fellowship and it is comfortable. In the deserts of our lands any comfort that can be taken is welcomed.”
Angarth sat beside Yusuf while Ruinferil sat to Angarth’s right. He was quick to notice that the woman who led him to that spot was quick to sit close enough behind him that she touched him. This made him uncomfortable. The other women came quickly with goblets of wine and more food than Ruinferil had seen in a very long time. They feasted with little talk.
Once the last plate was cleared, Yusuf reclined with his jeweled goblet. His dark eyes fixed on Angarth and though he was smiling, there was a hatred in his eyes. He sipped the wine before he spoke.
“So, Angarth. That is an interesting name. It means Iron Tower? Does it not?”
“It does.” Angarth returned the man’s smile.
“Tell me, have you ever been to my country?”
Angarth was slow to answer, the pain of his adventures there welling up within. “Once, a very long time ago.”
“Was it business,” Yusuf’s eyes darted suggestively to the woman behind Angarth, “Or pleasure that took you there?”
“It was a cursed adventurous spirit that took me there.” Angarth answered in a whisper. “A desire to see foreign lands and to find my fortunes.”
“Did you? Find your fortunes I mean?”
A thoughtful smile came across Angarth’s face and he glanced around at his daughter, “Yes. Yes I did. But they were not half way around the world as I had suspected and they were not gold, silver and jewels as I had suspected.”
“So, Ranger, what is it you do here? How do you earn your living?” Yusuf could very well be trying to figure out how to trade with Angarth, but Angarth somehow doubted it.
“You may hear much of us rangers in your travels and I dare say that none of it will be good. That is to say that we have little to do publicly with those outside of our own. We are watchers of the lands. We defend against all threats, both domestic,” Angarth looked square into Yusuf’s eyes with these last words, “And foreign.” Electricity seemed to fly between the two, but it was only for a brief moment before Angarth spoke again. “We make our living off the land as much as we can.” He chose not to disclose his own skills as a bladesmith. There was some strange bond between Angarth and Yusuf. Angarth did not know what it was, but it was there.
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Mirimaran »

Very good! :)

Ken
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

Got the opportunity to get back to this tale. In search of its ending, I have come across other tales to be told later. Hoping to move on to them soon. Also hoping folks are still interested in knowing how this tale ends.

The record is very confused here as Angarth was never able to put into words the events that occurred next. Deeper studies revealed that Angarth’s drink had been laced with a powerful potion. Aria, the woman who was “assigned” to Angarth, performed a seductive dance that seemed to last a very long time. Evidently this dance lured Angarth into a deep trance. Also, there were some accounts of this tale that were obviously written later for they were incorrect. It took some time to filter through the latter falsehoods that crept into the tale, but I have at last found the true tale and will translate it here for you. The account picked up again with Angarth’s awakening.

“How have I displeased you, my husband?” Aria pleaded with tear-filled eyes.
“Husba…” Angarth stammered, “I am not your husband! I want to know where my daughter is and I want to know now!”
“But it was a trade!” Aria insisted, “Do you not remember? How could you forget!? I am the dowry paid for the hand of your daughter, Ruinferil!”
Angarth was about to explode. “Please, Angarth. Let me speak with her.” It was the White Wizard, Saruman. It was his strong voice that shattered the spell into which Angarth had fallen. His aid to Angarth at this time made his treachery in later years hard for Angarth to accept.
When he awoke, Angarth found himself surrounded by a strange group of people all staring down at him. There were Rohirrim, Dunedain and Elves, all gathered around. Gilraen had felt earlier, before trouble befell them, that her husband and daughter were in dire need. Sending out a call to her kin, she was answered by Elves passing through the wilds as well.
There was a boy of about 13 years with the Elves. It was strange to see a child of Man with the Elven folk so the Dunedain perceived quickly whose child this was. Elyon had made instant friends with him. The boy was tall and fair. He was good with a bow and trained in the use of the blade. At every stop, the boy engaged Elyon in archery, swordsmanship or unarmed combat. The two learned much from one another as well as those who watched over their practices.
The Rohirrim were pursuing the caravan of Haradrim when they came across the Elves and Dunedain gathered around the prone figure of Angarth. The Haradrim had raided Rohirrim horse ranchers as they led a small herd of horses west for a farm that lay north of Bree. Now the Rohirrim were bent on intercepting the caravan and bringing back all that was lost and to make them repay the lives that were taken in their raid.
Angarth was not particularly pleased to see his wife so far from home and potentially in harm’s way. Ciradan would talk to him later when he had a chance to calm down from the shock of this moment. For her part, Gilraen had ridden out armed for war and she meant to fight for her beloved husband and daughter. She was not particularly pleased to find another woman calling her husband… “Husband.”

“Sweet girl! Stop your crying and talk to me.” Saruman’s voice soothed. All who heard it were calmed, forgetting their worries for a moment. “What has happened dear girl? What wrong has been committed here?”
Aria’s breath caught and she sniffled before she spoke. “My Lord, Yusuf has made a fair trade. He gave my hand to my master, Angarth in marriage for the hand of his daughter, Ruinferil. So she will go back to our homeland and I will stay here in this foreign land with my new husband.” She paused and tears threatened to overtake her again. “But Master Angarth does not want me now! He is displeased for some reason and I know not why!”
“Now, now, dear girl.” Saruman’s voice remained calming but firm. “Leave behind this lie and tell me the truth. What has happened here?”
There was a pause while the woman struggled to overcome some spell. Angarth knew not whether the spell was that of Yusuf or of Saruman.
“My master Yusuf watched many years ago as this man” she gestured to Angarth “killed his father in combat. He came here for riches and glory of his own, but he came mostly to find and kill Angarth, the Dunadan. But then Ivrahim invited him into the camp! It is against our law and would be of great dishonor to kill one who has entered into our care. So if Yusuf could not kill Angarth, then what better victory than to take his daughter and make her a part of his harem?”
Angarth fought to keep his emotions in check. He remembered too well the battle of which Aria spoke. The whole expedition had been a fool’s errand. He had fallen in with a group of young Rohirrim out seeking riches and glory. He too sought such things for he had not yet learned the importance of defending hearth and home. The expedition did not end peacefully or well. Many lives were lost both of the Rohirrim and of the Haradrim. Now, as Angarth looked around he recognized a few of the faces of the Rohirrim, some of the men who had taken him along on their journey years ago. He had thought this event was little more than a distant bad memory by now, but here it was to haunt his living world once more. Now his only thought was to deliver Ruinferil from foul hands or give his own life in the attempt.
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Eric C
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

If anyone is still reading, here is the next installment of this tale. It is finally nearing the end.

Angarth drove hard to the west in pursuit of the kidnappers. He spoke little since setting out after the Haradrim. On his face was a grim expression and few dared to talk to him about what had happened. Only Ciradan would speak to him and that was usually to tell him it was time for a meal or to bed down for the night. He lost count of the days, but he knew the terrain and knew he was drawing near the Forsaken Inn when something in the distance, half hidden, glinted in the light. He reigned his horse to a stop so suddenly that everyone in the convoy was alerted and ready with hands near weapons. Ciradan and Elladan – who was in the band of Elves – came to Angarth’s side.
“What is it?” Elladan asked.
“Something shone in the light of the sun down yonder.” Angarth jutted his chin forward, indicating the direction. Elladan peered forward, shading his eyes from the sun. He grunted.
“I see Men wearing strange Southron clothing. Their women are veiled. They are moving in a caravan of wagons. The men are equipped for battle.”
“That is our prey!” Angarth growled. Instantly, he began issuing orders. Elladan and his elves broke away and went southwest away from the main body. With these, Angarth sent Gilraen, Elyon and Estel. He did not want these three in the main fray if possible. His party held their position for some time, allowing the Elves to sneak around to the west of the Haradrim.
Angarth fought off his impatience and waited until the appointed time before he set out for the Haradrim convoy. Soon there was a distant horn call, the Haradrim had spotted Angarth’s forces. The convoy bolted off to the west. Carts and wagons sped along the road at unsafe speeds. Some broke axles as they sped along. Their occupants were left to fend for themselves. They begged mercy as Angarth passed. Riders would stop to examine the passengers. Not finding Ruinferil, they raced off to catch up to the rest of Angarth’s force.
The caravan from Harad reached a broken stone bridge that once spanned a now dried up stream. The far side of the stream was held by a band of Elves with bows ready. Quickly the horsemen left the wagons and women to the Elves and drove their steeds into the streambed, fleeing north. Angarth’s force was close behind. He smiled in victory as the Haradrim fell into his plan. Most of the Elves pursued the Haradrim from the top of the streambed while the rest searched the caravan for Ruinferil. Angarth and his force of Dunedain and Rohirrim fell in behind the Haradrim. While the force was ready for battle, and Angarth wanted it badly, he restrained anyone from harming the Haradrim unless completely necessary.
The Haradrim rounded a corner to the left and were out of sight. Angarth slowed his force. He knew that with the Haradrim hidden from sight and running, they could turn on the predator and cause far more bloodshed than there would already be. Carefully they crept forward. Rounding the corner, they found the Haradrim looking desperately for an escape within the sheer walls of a dead end. Some had set up a hasty defensive line to hold off any sudden attack. The Elves had surrounded the rim of the walls and were now training arrows down upon the fleeing foreigners. Angarth noted that Gilraen, Elyon and Estel had taken up a position to his right on the cliff.
“Yusuf, come forth and parlay.” Angarth demanded. The Haradrim formed up in battle lines, their archers trying desperately to train their weapons on the Elves above. Yusuf brought his steed, a steed stolen from the Rohirrim, out to the front of his lines. His scimitar was sheathed by his side and his shield was on his left arm. He and his men had donned their armour as soon as the left Angarth drugged on the East-West Road. Angarth dismounted and started to move forward to speak with Yusuf. Looking down, he spotted a smooth river rock ahead of him. He took a step but stumbled. Reaching down seemingly to catch himself, he grasped the rock and hid it in his palm. Yusuf said something in his native tongue over his shoulder. His men laughed at Angarth’s expense.
“Yusuf, for any wrong I have done to you, you have my sincerest apology.” Angarth began. “Many mistakes have been made in life. Do not make a mistake that will cost you your own life. Return to me my daughter, Ruinferil, unharmed and I for my part will count our debt settled. But I will stand beside the Rohirrim as they settle their claims with you. You have done mischief among us. Repentance is necessary.”
“Do you wish for your debt to be settled with me?” Yusuf spat in anger. “It will be settled as soon as you lay dead here on this riverbed and your daughter becomes part of my brother’s harem.”
Bolting forward, Yusuf swept his scimitar from its sheath and held it high above his head. His men followed, roaring a battle cry. Arrows filled the air. Three arrows from Angarth’s family and Estel dug deep into Yusuf’s shield. Reacting, he moved his shield to the side to fend off another barrage. In that instant, Angarth let the river rock in his hand fly. Arching through the air, the rock struck Yusuf’s helm between his eyes. Yusuf toppled backward off of the horse, landing hard in the dirt and rolling. He lay face-down in the dirt for a long moment. The two sides clashed around him. Angarth strode forward, Autheg of Rohirrim make was in his hand. Yusuf climbed to his knees, stripping his helm from his head. Blood poured from a cut across the bridge of his nose and both nostrils. His eyes were filled with tears and his vision was blurred. He sensed that he was being watched. To his left, he could make out a rounded sword tip, like the Rohirrim carry. It was held low near worn leather boots. Yusuf looked up seeing Angarth standing over him.
“This fight is over.” Angarth said over the din of battle. “Return my daughter.”
Yusuf spat on the ground. In an instant, he flung dirt and sand up at Angarth’s head. Closing his eyes Angarth dodged before the dirt found them, but some still went into his mouth. Yusuf sprang to his feet, scimitar sweeping skillfully at its prey. Angarth moved out of the way and struck. The rest of the battle subsided as the Haradrim were subdued. Each side watched the fight of the captains, cheering their own champion to victory.
Yusuf’s fury was great. His onslaught drove Angarth back. Steel rang and grated on steel as the battle raged. Attempting to turn the tide of the battle, Angarth drove forward with a sweep of Autheg. Yusuf skillfully deflected the blade and drove his free fist into Angarth’s face. With a swift move, Yusuf sent Autheg flying from Angarth’s grip. Yusuf paused to revel in his advantage and Angarth backed out of his range. He drew his fighting knife from the back of his belt and tossed it to his right hand. He inverted it along his forearm. Holding his arms wide to give Yusuf a target, he stood waiting. The look in his eye chilled the blood of Yusuf. He brought his scimitar to the ready. Angarth prepared to finish this fight one way or the other. All fell silent around the battlefield. Yusuf skipped forward thrusting his sword at Angarth’s heart. Sidestepping, Angarth shoved the blade aside with his knife and slipped his own blade up the scimitar to the hilt. Turning the knife horizontal, he sliced a deep gash up Yusuf’s hand and arm. Then hooking Yusuf’s wrist with the knife, Angarth threw a kick into his abdomen. In a quick move, he came around and snapped Yusuf’s sword arm. The blade fell to the ground and Angarth drove a foot behind Yusuf’s knee, forcing him to the ground. Angarth took a handful of Yusuf’s sweaty hair and pulled his head back to look him in the eye.
“Give me my daughter.” Angarth growled, placing his knife at Yusuf’s throat.
With pain in his face, Yusuf laughed. “Kill me, Dunadan, for you have twice disgraced my family and I will have a hard time returning home anyway. But your daughter is out of your reach. Live the rest of your miserable life knowing that she is in the harem of King Kenaz, my eldest brother.”
Doubt then horror filled Angarth’s heart. Letting go of Yusuf, he turned to see a contingent of Elves entering from the Harad caravan. The archers joined the rest of the force in the streambed. Angarth’s family joined him there to try to sort through this dire news. One of the Elves approached and Angarth anxiously awaited his report.
“Lord Angarth, your daughter, Ruinferil, the fiery huntress is not among the Haradrim.”
At those words, rage and desperation took Angarth. Gilraen dropped her face to her hands, weeping. Elyon did not know what to do. The Elf had more to say, but Angarth did not hear it. “Ru?” Angarth muttered. Then again louder, “Ru?” Then he bolted forward crying loudly, “Ruinferil!”
Ciradan, arrested Angarth by the jerkin and tried to stop him. Suddenly a war horn rent the air from the south, around the bend in the streambed.
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Eric C
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Re: Ruinferil's Journey

Post by Eric C »

For those who are still reading this account, we are nearing the end, Here is the next installment:

Baraz hissed through clenched teeth at the table outside of Bree. He and his troupe had set out toward the west after their meeting with Angarth and Ruinferil. For some reason, some feeling of dread, he had to turn back. He knew not why. Until now. He stared hard into the blue eyes that stared at him from behind the veil. The dagger in the girl’s hand was the one he had given to Ruinferil only days before.
“Keep it hidden, Lass.” He growled low. “It may come in handy before all this is over.” A quick glance around proved that no one was watching. “Where is yer father?”
“They said he’s dead.” Ru whispered. Tears threatened to overtake her.
“Not without sendin’ many o’ these scoundrels on before ‘im first. Let me think. Ole Baraz’ll get ye outta this. Now go about whatever business they ‘ave ya doin’.”
Ru moved away and melted into the other women before Ivrahim came up with a broad smile on his face.
“So friend Dwarf!” He said cheerfully, “How have you found our hospitality?”
Baraz forced a smile. “The hospitality is good! Yer cooks prepare some of the best meals in the field that I’ve ever tasted!” He wagged a boar’s leg bone to emphasize that he had just finished the chunk of meat. “So, when must ye be on yer way?”
Ivrahim sat on the chair beside Baraz. “Tomorrow morning as soon as it is light. I’ve heard that the Dwarves are great craftsmen and dealers. I’m hoping that we can do some trading before we must go?” At that, a plan began to form in the Dwarf’s mind. Two plans really, in case the first should fail.
The day stretched on. The Dwarves and the Haradrim did much trading. Baraz tried many times to turn the conversation to Ruinferil. At last, after the evening meal, he entered into an intense negotiation for the trade of the Dunadaneth.
“Why are you interested in that girl?” Ivrahim asked finally.
“She has the look of a strong Lass.” Baraz insisted. “She would be a great slave to put to work in the forges.”
“I was not aware that the Dwarves kept slaves.” Ivrahim stated.
“There are many secrets ye dinna know about the Khazad.”
“Well, she is not for trade. She is a gift for my master in Far Harad.”
Baraz sighed, lifting his tankard. He noticed then that it was empty. Staring into it, he determined to put into motion his second plan, for the first was not working. Standing, he walked away to a station where the Dwarves had set up kegs of ale. He went directly to one keg that he knew was empty. Opening the spout, only a small trickle poured into his tankard, not enough to cover the bottom. Closing the spout, he drew in a deep breath and bellowed, “Scormund!!!” This was followed by several words in the Dwarvish tongue that got the attention of all the Dwarves in his troupe. Many of the Haradrim turned to see what all of the commotion was. A young Dwarf hurried up to Baraz speaking in his strange native tongue. Baraz verbally pounced on the younger Dwarf. The young one stepped back in fear as Baraz unleashed a harsh tongue lashing on him. Baraz followed, staying nose-to-nose with the younger Dwarf. All of the Dwarves were paying close attention to the words, for they were instructions on how to deal with the Haradrim, what to tell them about his words and the situation they faced with young Ruinferil. At the last, he drew his axe from his belt and shook it in Scormund’s face. The young Dwarf’s dark eyes widened and he took another step back. In an instant, Scormund barked back some words of surrender and bolted off toward Bree. Baraz yelled at his back, “Ye’ll not forget the supplies of Baraz the Dwarf again anytime soon!”
Baraz stumped, grumbling, back to his seat. He threw his axe onto the table and muttered for a long time in words venturing in and out of the common tongue. Ivrahim stared at the axe a moment, trying to collect himself; for many of the Haradrim were shaken by the ferocity of the Dwarf’s verbal attack. Drawing in a breath through clenched teeth, Ivrahim asked, “What would you trade for the axe?”
Cutting his dark eyes at the Man, Baraz growled, “The girl.” Ivrahim laughed. Baraz laughed with him.

Scormund hurried through the west gate and up the street to the Prancing Pony Inn. Outside the door, he paused to take a deep breath and calm himself. He opened the door and stepped inside the smoky great room. Scanning the area, he saw many townsfolk grabbing a quick drink before heading home for the night. There, almost straight ahead was the big forester, Barth. Scormund liked Barth, despite Angarth’s misgivings about the man. Perhaps it was how the man cared for and handled his axe. Only a forester’s axe, but the man had great skill with it. Before Barth stood old Butterbur. His eyes fixed upon the Dwarf.
“Come! Please come in Master Dwarf!” Butterbur waved the Dwarf in. Scormund plucked up his courage and went to the counter. With a little effort, he climbed atop the stool and sat beside Barth. Butterbur continued, “What brings you here when the Dwarves are so engaged in the festivities with those foreigners beyond the gate?”
“I’ve an order ta place!” Scormund announced loudly. Then wiggling a finger at the Innkeeper, he leaned across the counter. He was aware that Barth moved closer to hear what was said as well. “We’ve a problem, Master Butterbur.”
Ichthean Forge (pronounced Ick thee an). Maker of knives, and primitive camping gear.
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