A Ranger's Duty

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Cimrandir
Haeropada
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A Ranger's Duty

Post by Cimrandir »

The gloom of Mirkwood surrounded the weary Ranger as he strode down the overgrown trail. The dark grey of his cloak concealed him perfectly in the murkiness of the dying day. As the forest grew darker, the chill of the night had begun to creep into the Ranger’s body. Bending down to untangle a stubborn thorn bush from where it caught on his cloak, the Ranger took the time to consider his route. The Elf-path stretched far into the growing shadow of Mirkwood. He had only about half a day journey left until he reached the marshes outside the Long Lake of Esgaroth.
The end of the light posed quite the problem for the solitary messenger. Sleeping in the woodland alone was certain death but traveling throughout the night was also very dangerous. Many evil things came out to hunt during nights in Mirkwood. He began to regret the bravado he had when the Dunedain chieftain had assigned this task to him. He had insisted that he needed no companion. There was no way to backtrack now.

Finally deciding that quick action was the best course open to him, he ran smoothly through the thick forest brush. Bounding over roots and avoiding entangling bushes, he ran with the experience of a lifetime spent in the woods. The Ranger looked forward to resting his fatigued legs. He was young and full of vigor but even the energy of youth was fading after this day’s trek. As he loped down the trail, his thoughts turned inward. Though his body was weary, he doubted he would ever grow tired of the freedom that comes of being a Ranger. The open road was his home, no matter how dangerous.
He loved the life of the Dunedain, protecting those that could not protect themselves. The common folk would never know the battles waged on their behalf. They had no idea of the sacrifices made for them. The Ranger did not begrudge them their innocence. Watching and defending was what the Ranger lived for. He could never stay in a settlement for long. Being dependant on only himself was far better the complex, rule-bound life that comes from living in a town. No, he would grow old and die on the open road, free to the end.
The last daylight faded as the noises of the night grew. Insects chirped and screeched,
trees creaked and groaned, and animals scurried through the underbrush. As he started to settle into a steady jog, a new sound reached his ears. Something unnatural that caught his attention. Slowing to a stop, he fought to get his heavy breathing under control. Once the surge of blood had faded in his ears, the Ranger strained to catch the sound. A moment later, he heard the sound once more.

It was the whinny of a horse.

Dropping to one knee, he peered ahead into the blackness off the trail. There, piercing the gloom like a lightning bolt was a campfire. Stepping off the Elf-path, he approached the camp, the glow of the flames throwing strange and frightening shadows in the dark forest. There appeared to be five figures situated around the blazing fire. From their height, the Ranger judged that two were hobbits, one a dwarf, and the remaining two human. From the smell, he guessed that they were cooking some kind of sausage. They did not seem to be armed- a poor decision that could get them killed.

With a stony visage, he watched the travelers, mentally berating them for their foolish actions. But as he watched, the loudest noise yet came from behind. The undergrowth rustled with an unnatural force. A mysterious drumming on the forest floor reverberated through the trees. His eyes blinded by the time he had spent staring at the fire, the Ranger turned his head in an attempt to locate the source. Thinking of the many different dangers in Mirkwood, he slowly made his way around the camp. He looked back at the camp to see if they had noticed the disturbing racket. Deep in quiet conversation, it was evident that they had not noticed anything.

Pushing past a thick bush, the Ranger got his first glimpse of the monsters. Six feet in height, it had huge pincers dripping with venom. It had eight legs covered with hair. It was a giant spider. The dreaded child of Ungoliant took half a step forward only to draw back to its previous position. It was plainly trying to overcome its fear of the flame in order to attack and devour the travelers. The Ranger silently moved forward to kill the beast before it attacked the camp. A second thicket crackled loudly behind him. There was more than one spider out there then. The Ranger quickly formulated a plan. He could not let the helpless travelers be attacked. It was time for action.
Swiftly turning and clambering up the tree behind him, the Ranger stood on one of the high-branches and then jumped to a tree that was close. In this fashion he made his way to a tree directly above the first spider. Seeing that the spider had not moved, he took a deep breath and pushed out from the tree and leaped onto the spider’s back. As he landed, he yanked out his long knife and plunged the blade into the spider’s brain. The beast shuddered and collapsed in a heap. Vaulting off the corpse, he pulled the bow from his back.
Setting an arrow, the Ranger waited for the second spider to appear. Attracting the sounds of the struggle the spider burst into view. Aiming by pure instinct, the Ranger loosed one, then two black-feathered arrows at the multifaceted eyes. Both arrows flew true, embedding themselves in the luminous orbs. Throwing himself to the side as the spider charged, the Ranger pivoted and loosed a final shaft at the base of the beast’s skull. The spider stumbled and fell, never to rise again. The Ranger turned and almost fell himself. Apparently he had sustained some injuries himself during the skirmish. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to ignore the pain. He had a job to do. Ahead, he could see that the travelers were alert and peering into the darkness. He had barely limped five paces toward the fire when something slammed into his back.

Rolling over, he only just managed to grab the spider’s mandibles. Grappling for what seemed an eternity, the Ranger and the spider struggled back and forth, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. Finally, the Ranger had to concede defeat; his arms fell back limp unto his body. Blood flowed from the many cuts and scrapes he had obtained in the struggle. The most profuse was from where his shirt sleeve was torn off and there was deep slice from a claw. His other shoulder burned, most likely dislocated from the fall. The spider raised its head to the sky, celebrating its victory. It lowered its head, jaws open, to deliver the fatal sting. The Ranger snatched his long knife from where it had fallen on the leaves. He jabbed its blade into the gaping maw of the beast, finally killing it.
The Ranger pulled himself up with a great deal more of wincing and cursing. He crunched his shoulder back into the socket with only a small whimper of pain. Crouched low, he gingerly ran toward the camp, wary of any more ambushes. Pulling himself upright, he stepped into the ring of light cast by the flames.
“What?” yelped one of the humans, “Who are you?”
“Silence. My name is of no importance but know that I am a Ranger of the North. I am here to help.”
A mixture of awe and fear filled the others gazes as he made this proclamation. The Ranger was well aware to the suspicion his folk received from others. He had grown used to it by now. Despite the traveler’s misgivings, the Ranger had a duty to save them. But now that wariness and doubt was costing them time that they dearly needed.
“But, but, help with what?” stammered one of the hobbits.
“There are monstrous spiders out there. They wish to kill and eat you. Now you must depart now, get as far away from here as you can. Try to get out of the Mirkwood.”
The other hobbit piped up, “But wait, we just entered and we have important business in-”
One of the men interrupted his companion, “Look Ranger, we can’t be cuttin’ and runnin’ just ‘cause you say so. We don’t know if you can be trusted or-”
The man was violently interrupted as a spider plunged straight down into the camp. It landed just outside of the group. The spider was smaller than the others but fearsome all the same. It lurched into motion and skittered toward the pack horse tied to a nearby tree. As the travelers screamed, the beast ripped open the horse’s throat. As the creature began to tear the flesh off for its meal, the Ranger rushed forward and began to chop at the spider. He sliced off two legs and finished the distracted monster by thrusting through the beasts head.
The travelers stared in stark terror at the carcass of the beast.
The man that had just been speaking raised a trembling arm and pointed at the corpse.
“I…I thought...myth...” he babbled.
The Ranger cut him off. “If you wish to stay and be devoured, be my guest. But I am trying to help you.”
Only silence answered him.
“Right then, get your things together quickly.” The travelers scrambled through the camp, gathering their possessions and packing their gear. As they did that, the Ranger strode over to the flickering fire. Taking his knife, he slashed his remaining sleeve off. Wrapping the cloth around a suitable stick, he dipped the makeshift torch in the grease of the forgotten sausage. Taking another stick he bent down and separated the branches in so that the flames died out. With only the dying embers to see by, the Ranger glanced around and saw five pairs of gleaming eyes watching him. “Right, here’s the plan. You will slip away while I distract the beasts. Try to stay as silent as possible. If you hear rustling, run as quietly as you can. Now I need to borrow two pots or pans please.” The dwarf shrugged off his pack and rummaged through it. Producing the requested items, he silently handed them over.
“Thanks friend. Now all of you get going. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” One by one, each traveler grasped the Ranger’s bloody forearm and muttered a simple “Thank you.” The Ranger felt a quick burst of pride and gratefulness.
“Go” he said in a steely voice.
After the travelers had melted into the night, the Ranger swiftly collected a large pile of dead limbs and branches. Terror sped his hands. The spiders were drawing near; their demonic sounds filling the forest .He continued his work until the pile had a good amount of dead brush in it. Having finished his preparations, the Ranger scooped up the two pans. He began to wildly smash them together, creating a loud din. He added his voice to the cacophony, shouting ancient Dunedain curses and battle cries. Soon he heard the ominous rustling begin again. Still banging the pans, he moved so that the brush pile was between him and the direction from which the noise approached. The group of spiders slowly advanced into the clearing, wary of any traps. His heart sank as he counted seven spiders crawling into the clearing. The odds were very poor indeed.

The Ranger waited for them to move past the bush pile, checking to make sure that no other spiders were sneaking up behind him. When he turned his head back toward the beasts, they had just cleared the pile. Quickly, he reached into a pouch on his belt. Withdrawing his flint and steel, he bent and lit the torch laid at his feet. The Ranger stood up and flung the burning brand into the dead wood. It ignited with a whoosh. The spiders suddenly reared up, terrified of the light and heat. The Ranger released the first of his shafts, felling one before it even had a chance to set its front legs back down. The battle was joined.

He emptied his quiver, letting fly a hail of death at the monsters. One, then two went down. He unleashed his sword and in three long strides, was in the midst of them. As he hacked and slashed, the Ranger felt a new sense of freedom. The battle was a purifying force, cleansing his soul of everything but the need to destroy his foes. Sweat pooled on his brow despite the chill evening. He redoubled his efforts, striking twice as hard, moving twice as fast. But the spiders were giving as well as they got. The Ranger felt a pain in his thigh, and then he could feel the poison burning through his veins. He strove to overcome the agony and continued to valiantly fight on. He thrust his sword deep into the belly of one beast, spilling entrails to the leafy ground. He decapitated the head off another and stabbed a third in the eyes. As he turned to face the final spider, he screamed his battle cry. That cry was heard only by the silent trees. The last spider had fled.

The Ranger slumped to his knees. Tired to his core and feeling the painful throb of his wounds, he considered lying in the clearing until the end of days. No sooner had he finished that thought, a truly giant spider entered the clearing. A dozen feet high, this was surely the champion of the spiders. The warrior was colossal in size. Multiple eyes blazing flame red, it seemed to have come from the forge of Morgoth itself.

Struggling to his feet, the Ranger stood on unsteady legs. The two opponents faced each other for what seemed an eternity, each taking the measure of his enemy. Idly hoping that the travelers were far away by now, the Ranger snapped back to attention as the beast suddenly lunged. He stumbled and rolled under the on-rushing spider. When the beast had turned around the Ranger snatched up a fiery branch and jabbed it into the eyes of the spider. The spider warrior, his eyes badly scorched, crashed backwards. Stepping up and forward as the spider warrior flailed about with his hairy appendages, the Ranger slashed and sliced at his legs with his sword.

The monster ignored the attack and lunged forward, smacking the Ranger into the ground with a mighty crack. The spider warrior pounced on his collapsed form but the Ranger rolled just in time. Pushing up from the cold earth, he hopped onto the back of the warrior spider, riding him like a horse. He attempted to stab the monsters head but the champion reared and rolled at the same time. The Ranger was thrown ten feet in the air. He landed with a sickening thump. He could not move as the massive beast approached. The Ranger regained his breath just as the spider leaped into the air. Scrambling madly for the sword lost in the fall, his hands closed on the hilt and he shoved the blade upward as the spider warrior crashed down on him with a loud thud. His mouth filled with bile as the spider’s intestines slithered out and splashed all over him. He felt a dull pain in his gut as the spider quietly hissed above him. Shoving the spider’s bulk off him, he drew in a deep shuddering breath. He pulled himself upright by grasping the hairs of the corpse beside him. He stood over the body of his adversary. Reaching down and taking up his sword, he raised his sword and with a mighty roar, hacked off the head of the spider warrior.

With a groan, the Ranger leaned against a tree and slowly slid down as the fury of battle left him. He knew he would never rise again. His body was broken and the mighty champion had fatally poisoned him with his last plunge. The Ranger waited to die. He only had to wait until the venom reached his heart.
He had no idea that the lone survivor of the first clash had stayed to watch the final battle. He would return to spider’s leader with a wild report of a spider-killing fiend. The field that was his final resting place would be forever infamous in the legends of the Mirkwood spiders. They would forever believe that a huge spider-killing demon haunted the clearing and would slay any spider that entered it. The Ranger’s body would never be disturbed.

The Ranger was content in the knowledge that he had performed his sworn duty. He had given his life in order to save the unknown travelers. He lay there; thinking back on his life as it slowly ebbed away. Surrounded by the shadowy forest, he decided that this was a good way to die, having fulfilled his ranger duty.
Persona : Cimrandir - late 3rd Age Dunedain
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Mirimaran
Thangailhir
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Re: A Ranger's Duty

Post by Mirimaran »

Well done! I liked this alot, thanks for sharing!

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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