Tales from a Ranger

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Eärendur
Dúnadan
Posts: 61
Joined: Thu May 16, 2013 12:11 pm
Location: Michigan

Tales from a Ranger

Post by Eärendur »

Reading some of the tales here have inspired me to give it a turn myself. I spent some time developing a background, but I did not go back and reference my ME books in all that much depth, so if I have a detail that's off, that's why.

I'm very open to honest thoughts about it. If you comment, please comment on why you like or dislike something about it, what you would have liked to see different/better, what you would like to see more of, and what you would like to see less of, etc.

This is my first serious attempt at writing a story, so take it as such. I am, of course, not completely happy with it, and I'm unsure about a number of the choices I made with it, particularly the bookends (are they relevant/realistic?), using first person, and the story content (is it boring? I had to start somewhere along his timeline, so I started earlier rather than later. I feel that going through bad stuff has more impact if you have good stuff in the past to compare it to). But anyway, since it'll never be "officially" published, and one has to start writing somewhere, here is the first installment:

Notes: a ranga is a Numenorean measurement of approximately a yard, or a meter.
Celeb is elvish for silver; i.e., Celeborn, Celebrimbor and is pronounced "Kelleb" (We're not talking about celebrities here :) )
Any names used do not necessarily represent the "real" person in Middle-earth with that name (unless the context makes it obvious).

Enjoy!

*******
"So, you wish to hear the tale of a ranger of the north?" The man speaking pulled his hood back from his face, revealing a thin, rough, weather-worn face; hair that was beginning to turn from raven to silver; and bright, blue-grey eyes. Sitting around a fire with him, in various states of repose, were half a dozen soldiers of Gondor and Rohan. The day had been a good one. Song and feasting on the Field or Cormallen had been the order of the day, in celebration of the victory at the Black Gates and the destruction of the Ring in Orodruin. Now, at day's end, several of the more inquisitive minds from the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan had gathered around one of the mysterious rangers of the north to hear his tale.

**

I've been called many things in my years, and not all of them good, but you can call me Eärendur. Today I have seen the fulfillment of that for which I have labored all my life. Much work is yet to be done, indeed, but for the first time, the future is hopeful. It was not always so; indeed things were once so grave we of the North had thought the line of kings had been broken indeed and that we should soon fail.

When I was a young lad, I lived in an encampment in the woods of the North. My father was a ranger, who served Arador, our chieftain - he was often away in those days, scouting around the villages nearby. We were an advance post, counted by the Dunedain as a safe place in an area that was almost wild.
The camp was set in a large clearing. To the North and West, for nearly one hundred ranga, there was a thick growth of fir trees - very difficult to get through for a lad, impossible for a grown man. To the east was a cliff face, nearly 30 ranga tall, which slightly overhung the encampment. To the south were a line of broken hills, with the occasional pine and maple clinging to the rocks. There were two hidden paths through these hills, the only way in or out of the camp, unless one wished to scale the cliff or chop through the trees.

One evening in the late summer, I climbed a tall maple where I could see some distance along the path my father usually took on his return; he had been gone for some time, and should be arriving any day. As I reached the spot where I knew I would have a good seat and a view to the south, I heard a voice above me, "Come to watch the sunset, Endur?" I looked up and saw Angor sitting on a branch a few feet above me. I smiled up at him, "Do you think my father will come today?" Angor smiled back. "I think," he said, "that he just might. I've been watching the road for some time, and I've seen some movement in the distance."
I liked Angor. He was a young man, not yet fully of age. He had exceptionally good eyesight, which was the reason he had stayed behind to watch the camp on this occasion. While I'm sure he was disappointed to stay behind, he did not show it. Those in the camp were quite pleased to have him there, as he was well-known for his good humor.
I stood up on my branch and squinted out across the distance. "I can't see anything, Angor," I said after a moment. "Watch the bend in the path below the crooked pine," he replied, fixing his gaze on the spot. I watched the spot to which he referred. After a few more moments, he said "There!" and I saw a tall figure emerge from around the bend. "That could be him!" I exclaimed. "He is definitely a tall enough," Angor agreed. He continued to watch the spot. A moment later, two more figures came around the bend. "Three rangers!" Angor said. "This is a little unusual." I watched the spot for a little longer, trying to see if I could discern my father among the three.
Suddenly, four more figures came around the bend. "Angor! Seven rangers?" He quickly looked back at the spot.
"No... " he paused for a moment, then said, "Quickly Endur, go down and tell Celeb, we will be having honored guests tonight!"
"Who are they Angor, if they're not rangers?"
"I'm not certain from this distance, but two of them are definitely elves!"
Elves! I climbed down the tree as quickly as I could. I had not yet met any elves! I ran back towards the encampment as quickly as my short legs could carry me. As I ran, I looked back and saw Angor slip down from the tree and race in the direction of the path.

**

That night there was what amounted to a feast in our settlement, in honor of our guests. Celeb, his hair matching his name, was the chief of our encampment, old but hale, having been a ranger for many years. We had not had any visitors since mid-winter. The night was of double excitement for me; for not only had my father returned, but he had brought with him several rangers not from our encampment, and elves. Elves!

Our camp did not have any permanent buildings. Shelters were built of local brush and stones combined with canvases to keep the rain out. As a rule, the shelters were only just as large as they needed to be, and were arranged such that they blended well with their surroundings. If we left the camp empty, few besides rangers or elves would recognize that we had ever been there. Consequently, we had no mead-hall. The night was clear, so the feast was held elven-style, with the stars blazing overhead. The full moon lit the forest nearly as clear as day. The only other light came from the fires, which were in pits dug into the ground so as to be less visible from a distance.

Before the feast began, we all faced West for the standing silence, in memory of Numenor that was. Celeb then introduced our guests, the visiting rangers from the north downs, and, in the place of honor, the two elves, tall and fair: Galdor and Edrahil.

The elves bowed graciously. My young eyes filled with wonder at the sight of elves in person. The first thing I noticed was a deep amusement in their faces, as though they were always about to burst into laughter. Yet at the same time, they seemed slightly absent-minded, as if they could not totally forget their cares or their mission. Mixed with this was the stamp of sorrows unknown to mortal men, and their shining blue eyes had a glance so keen it seemed to cut to one's very heart. I was both fascinated and frightened.
"We thank you for your hospitality," Galdor said. "We, on our part, have a gift for you." He nodded to Edrahil, who brought out a small silver flask. This was poured into a large barrel of water. A delightful fragrance floated forth, and all who drank of it felt their hearts lightened and their cares lifted.
Feasting soon gave way to dancing. The dancers began in lines, and weaved in and out, back and forth, round and round; repeating complex patterns to the music. Angor kept very busy, not lacking a partner for a single dance (though some noted he kept returning to one partner in particular!) Galdor and Edrahil stood off to the side, watching with a smile playing on their lips.
As the night wore on, dancing gave way to song. Many songs were sung that night. One of the visiting rangers borrowed a mandolin, and sang a song of Arnor, and the battles against the Witch-king. Angor sang a ballad he had composed, full of hope for the future; and Celeb sang a song of the mission of the dunedain, a solemn anthem with which all were familiar, and which all joined in singing.
Finally, Edrahil requested that a harp be brought to him; and after a few minutes of re-tuning it to the elven scale, began to sing in his strange tongue. I did not understand what was sung, but later I was told it was a song of Eldamar, telling part of the history of the high-elves. Both the mirth and the grief I saw in his face flowed profoundly throughout his song. All sat entranced, and Galdor's gaze shone with an even greater intensity. I felt my heart moved, and resolved that one day, when I was a ranger, I would spend time among the elves, and learn their tongue.

*******
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Mirimaran
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Re: Tales from a Ranger

Post by Mirimaran »

There is always room for more tales of the Rangers! I like it and want to read more! :)

Ken
"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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