Daughter of Arnor

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Ranger of Arthedain
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Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by Ranger of Arthedain »

Finally updating this story! I kind of like to procrastinate when I shouldn't, hehe. It's not much, with just a little action, but I've been drifting in and out of a motivational stage, if you will.

__________________________________________

Anticipated hooves pawed at the frozen dirt early that morning. The sun had not the chance to rise and greet the Dunedain settlements with his welcoming warm rays. Ten men clothed in wool, forest green cloaks -speckled with brown- stood around their steeds; some rubbing their hands together in an attempt at staying warm; all of them waiting patiently for their captain to arrive. Not moments ago, they were awakened from their reveries on order from the aforementioned captain, Daeradan. Twelve rangers total -including the captain and his daughter- was all the settlements could spare for the journey. Daeradan sent word by his fastest horseman to Imladris, asking for aid until they returned...IF they returned. Albeit he was displeased -and ashamed- to do so, not because of his pride, but because he had not the man power to protect his own people. The Dunedain are a dying breed of men, and Daeradan wants nothing more than to protect those few who are left in the Angle.

"This will be your last chance, Aeron, not many rangers are given the choice to stay at home with their loved ones; to stay in the warmth and safety of their homes."

Daeradan watched his daughter tack up her painted, rough haired, colt -Aergolas- hoping she would come to her senses about this decision she was so adamant about keeping. Aeron, however, did not answer him. After she had secured her bedroll and supplies to her saddle, she grabbed hold of the colt's reins and led him outside. Daeradan sighed, patting the side of his bay mare's neck, “Why do women have to be so stubborn?" The mare tossed her head, nipping at his arm as if to object. He chuckled, despite his current mood, mounting up and leading her outside into the cold morning's air. Daeradan gazed over each man that turned to gaze at him, his eyes traveling from them to the women who were beginning to gather around the small company.

"My Rangers," he pulled his mare to a stop in front of the eleven riders before him, “Our brethren from the Northern Downs have called upon us for our aid."

The Rangers glanced between one another, before looking back to their captain.

"I will not lie and fill you with false hope," his voice and expression were grim, as they normally tended to be, “The journey we are about to embark on will be perilous. If the flight to the North Downs does not claim the lot of us; the one into Angmar will."

Vanya, Daeradan's bay mare, pawed anxiously at the ground in front of her, silence filling the biting cold air of the morning. Each Dunadan did not look away from their captain, for this was nothing new to their ears. They were acquainted well with life threatening and near death situations, met them each and every day. The Dunedain of the Angle were not afraid of death...

Save for one, that is, and she wasn't acquainted with the aforementioned life threatening situations. The shifting of her body weight on the saddle -from nerves, no doubt- did not go unnoticed by those around her.

"But we will go nonetheless."

Daeradan's eyes came to a halt on his daughter, where they remained for the time being. The intensity of his stare caused the young female to glance down at the spot between her horse's ears, wanting to look anywhere but forward. She began to fidget, pulling her forest green mask up on her face and her hood up over her head. The men around her turned to watch her, sensing her uneasiness. They exchanged quick glances between one another -concerned glances- before mounting their steeds. Aeron would either prove to be worthy of the title a Ranger held, or to be a hindrance and the downfall of their small company. The Dunedain only hoped it was the former of the two.

"Let us ride to our brethren's aid, Rangers."

Daeradan wheeled Vanya around, but not before one final glance into his wife's direction. He gave her a nod of his head along with a rare seen smile. He nudged his mare into a trot; Aeron, alongside Daeradan's second in command, followed directly in behind him out of the main gates. Dense woods encircled them; the river Hoarwell lay to their left, and the river Bruinen to the right. A narrow dirt path, not often used - not even by the Dunedain- stretched before them in a direct straight line.


The Rangers had been traveling the narrow, never ending -or so it seemed- path since the sun reached the highest point in the sky. There was no beautiful scenery; the trees were naked, dead brown leaves covered the ground; the only sounds that could be heard was the rushing of the rivers flowing beside of them. No birds chirped, no wind blew...

"It is far too quiet in these woods, something does not bode well."

The older ranger was riding in the back next to a younger man, his seasoned eyes scanning over the solitary, bare trees before resting on the painted colt that was prancing around nervously in behind Daeradan.

"Control your beast!"

One of the other rangers hissed quietly, glaring at Aeron. Aergolas' uneasiness was affecting the other horses in the company.

"There is something foul in the air, Aergolas would not-"

A cry from the back of the company spooked the horses, some reared and all whinnied in fright.

"We're under attack, captain!"

The old man's cry caused Daeradan to wheel Vanya around, dismounting her quickly. The other rangers mimicked him; some drawing their swords and a few others -including Aeron- nocking arrows; drawn and pointed in the direction the enemy arrow came from. The seasoned ranger helped the younger male off his horse, examining the arrow that pierced the boy's upper arm.

"Stay alert men, do not let your guard down."

Daeradan's eyes remained focused in the area from which the arrow came, the silence engulfing the small company once again.

"Orc."

Coranthor, the elder ranger, looked up at Daeradan before looking back down at the wounded young man.

"Barbed arrow...gonna be mighty painful removin' it.."

Daeradan looked down at the boy's injured arm, seeing a few tears fall from his eyes. "Remove it, Coranthor, and bandage it up with haste."

"Why aren't they attacking? Do they mean to torment us?"

Aeron's voice quivered same as her arm that still had an arrow drawn. A shadow moved through the trees, causing the unnerved woman's eyes to dart after it. She followed the shadow, each time it moved, with her arrow; her breathing becoming more unsteady. If the orcs were trying to torment them, they were doing a fine job of it.

"Aeron, stay focused."

A ranger that stood near her watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, wincing when she released her arrow at the shadow. Although the shadow slumped over; falling to its death, an angered cry; no, an uproar of furious cries, emitted through the chilly air.

"I...I got it!"

A whole company of seething, glowering rangers turned to look at the youngest of the group.

"Aye, and you've called the rest of them to arms!"
Last edited by Ranger of Arthedain on Thu Feb 03, 2011 4:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Winter is almost upon us, it will be long and hard, but the North remembers and the wolves will come again.
kaelln

Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by kaelln »

I just read this. This is really good! I can't wait to see how you handle the battle. I was kind of anxious about the action scenes in my story, but I found out that I had a lot of fun writing them. I don't want to make you nervous or anything, but this has the makings of a really good novel. I'd really like to see all the themes you've sketched really fleshed out and given room to grow. Besides, I'm really just enjoying reading it, and I don't want it to stop!
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Ranger of Arthedain
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Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by Ranger of Arthedain »

I'm glad you're enjoying it! :) I'm having loads of fun writing it. Action and I have a love/hate relationship; I love to write it, and yet I hate it because I always rush the scene and ruin it completely. :oops:
When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Winter is almost upon us, it will be long and hard, but the North remembers and the wolves will come again.
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Ranger of Arthedain
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Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by Ranger of Arthedain »

Here's another installment. :) It is most likely still riddled with mistakes, even after going through spell check a couple of times, due to it being written at 6:00 AM. :shock: I got the big eye, as we would say here in the mountains, and couldn't sleep.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The young female ranger swallowed back the lump that began to form in her throat. This would be her first fight against orcs, and her last if she was not careful. She watched as the other rangers in the company nocked arrows, firing once they had an orc in sight. The enemy began to fall before them, and before Aeron's nerves would allow her to nock an arrow of her own, metal began clashing with metal. The orcs were too close now for any long ranged fighter to risk shooting at.

A large orc came charging at the nervous young ranger, sword raised high above his head. She struggled with pulling her own sword out of its worn leather scabbard, grey eyes widening in fear at the prospect of being mutilated by this monster. He was still charging her, only mere inches now away from her; his sword coming down and hers still stuck in its sheath...


He stopped, suddenly. The sword he was going to use to murder this young, inexperienced ranger with fell to the cold hard ground with a clinking sound. Aeron took a step back, a shaking hand still on the haft of her sword; eyes still wide, watching the large monstrous figure crumple to the ground in a heap of his own black, vile blood. She gazed up to see a pair of grey-blue eyes flicker in annoyance from her face to an approaching orc. The young male ranger's blade ran through the orc's body, black liquid pouring from the enemy's mid-section. Aeron watched the backside of the young male, slicing through any orc that came near him. She noticed the bandage wrapped around his right arm, the very same arm that wielded his sword. Aeron backed up against a tree, shaking like a fragile leaf in the wind, still watching him. He was but a few summers older than she, and yet he had more experience than she could ever hope to possess. This young ranger, Candeth, was worthy of the title a Ranger carries. He has seen much and lived through the equivalent than any one young male -or female- should. Candeth was an excellent marksman with his bow and a capable warrior with his sword. She couldn't even unsheathe her sword in the heat of battle!


Another orc charged at her, having thought the ranger was not paying attention. Aeron caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, however, and this time jerked hard on the hilt of her sword; the weapon finally sliding out of the leather scabbard. She swiped upwards when the orc's blade was coming down, a loud clinking sound indicating that the two metals had clashed. She ground her teeth together, her arms quivering from the weight that was being pressed down on her blade. The orc laughed harshly at her, speaking something in the Black Speech; something she couldn't understand, but no doubt it had something to do with her poor weaponry skills.

When the orc's crude blade inched closer to her, Aeron quickly side stepped when she couldn't hold off the blade any longer, causing the orc's weapon to sweep downwards, and imbedding its edge into the ground. When the Ranger made to make the final blow, she felt her cloak being pulled to one side, making movement for her to be difficult. She glanced down for one split second, grimacing when she saw her cloak's corner trapped beneath the thick edged blade of the enemy. The orc grinned, or what was suppose to be a grin, cruelly at her; his thick hand reaching out to grab at her. Aeron jerked on her cloak, causing the material to give way, the corner ripping. The young ranger had tugged to the material so hard she stumbled backwards, falling to the cold ground beneath her. The orc laughed loudly at her, grabbing the hilt of his sword and pulling it out of the hard ground. He walked towards her slowly, swishing his blade around in the air as if he had already victoriously killed her.

Daeradan looked up in her direction after he had cut through a burly orc's stomach. He cursed silently, his fatherly instincts kicking in to high gear. Daeradan began to work his way over to his daughter as quick as he could, cutting down any orc that dared step into his path. He watched, just as he cut down another orc, his daughter scoot backwards, away from the orc that was coming to claim her life. Aeron's back hit a rock, her hand still clutched tightly around the hilt of her sword. The orc was standing before her, his large foot crashing down on her wrist that was connected to the hand around her sword's hilt. Aeron cried out in pain, causing her father's heartbeat to quicken. His footsteps hastened, his sword expertly slicing through more orc flesh as he hurriedly made his way to his daughter's side. Meanwhile, the orc's foul hand struck out as quick as a snake, grabbing Aeron’s throat; squeezing the life out of her. He was closing in on his kill, drawing nearer to her; so close she could smell his foul breath licking at her face.


"You were foolish to come with them, Woman."

His dry chuckle sent a shiver up her spine, her eyes was beginning to close on her; her air pipes nearly crushed. Just as the orc inched only a centimeter closer to her face, her other hand had quietly pulled the dagger from her boot, and like a flash of lightening, she drove the blade completely through the tough flesh that was the orc's neck. Black liquid gurgled and poured from the orc's mouth, his grip around her neck soon loosening. Aeron pulled her dagger out of his neck, using her uninjured arm to push his lifeless body away from her. Daeradan arrived not a moment later, kneeling down next to Aeron’s bent over, coughing body. The sounds of metal slicing through flesh, clashing with other swords, ceased finally. Daeradan gazed up and over in the direction of his men, seeing only a few with wounds -minor ones-, thankfully. After a few moments of rest, they instinctively went to work on piling orc bodies and gathering wood for a fire.

"Are you alright?"

Aeron winced as she held up the wrist that the orc had stepped on, allowing her father to take it into his own, calloused hands. He gingerly turned it over a few times, inspecting her wound. He could tell that some of the bones were not positioned as they should have been around the wrist area; meaning her wrist was fractured.

"Your wrist is fractured. Judging by the way it looks and feels, I can reset the bones."

Aeron looked down at her hand that lay limp in her father's, nodding her head. She looked away; squeezing her eyes shut tightly, biting the inside of her lip. An audible crunching sound could be heard next, a small cry soon following after. A few of the other men, who were piling the orc bodies in a pile of pine needles and wood to be burned, glanced up in their captain's direction when they heard Aeron cry out. Tears streamed down her face as she cradled her arm with her other hand, spitting out red liquid. The young female had bitten the inside of her lip so hard, she had drawn blood.

"Wrap it up."

He was upset, that much she could tell, and she was most likely the reason. Aeron watched him, how his jaw ticked when he turned away from her and rose up, striding over to his men. Sighing, she stood up slowly, swaying slightly from still being light headed. She scanned the ground for the ripped piece of cloth that had came from her cloak, picking it up when she found it. Aeron wrapped her wrist up quickly, using her free hand and teeth to tie it off when she was finished. The woman watched as one of the Rangers dragged the body of the orc she had slain across the small area and to the pile to be burned. She walked back to the rock, kneeling down to pick up her sword, sheathing it. Her eyes scanned over the small heap of lifeless bodies, bile rising up her sore throat at the sight. Sparring with her father or one of the other rangers couldn't compare to this; to the reality that lay before her. The ground around them was painted black with orc blood, making it seem more gruesome than it was.

Aeron winced, rubbing her wrist lightly as she looked over her wrapped up wound. She looked up to see Candeth carrying wood over to the heap of bodies, placing them all around the bodies, in a tipi like fashion. Coranthor, an old pine stump in one hand and a hatchet in the other, walked over to the pile setting the stump down at his feet. Steadying his hatchet, Coranthor chopped at the pine knot, laying the tool down afterwards. He pulled out his knife and began to shave off curls of the light brown wood, tossing them all over the bodies. Coranthor then reached inside a small pouch at his side, pulling out a couple pieces of flint.

Aeron, at this point, had drawn closer to the heap, coming to a stop next to Candeth who was cutting off slivers of the pine knot, putting them inside a leather pouch, along with some of the curls. She watched as the seasoned ranger struck the two pieces of flint together, a stray spark catching on to some of the curls.

"Pine sap."

Aeron blinked, looking down at the young man sitting on the cold ground.

"That's why the fire is catching more quickly; the pine's sap is highly flammable. That's why I'm shaving off slivers and curls of this pine knot, for tinder and kindling later on in our journey."

Candeth had answered any and all questions the young female was about to throw his way. She simply nodded her head; remaining silent for the time being; watching him shave off the light brown wood. He didn’t speak further to her, albeit she did not expect him to. Rangers are in general, elusive and aloof men. Their social skills lacked, but their expertise in the ways of the hunter made up for that. Aeron watched a piece of lit wood shaving tumble down one of the orc bodies…

Wood; that’s what was missing from her arsenal. The female ranger reached around her back to where her bow would normally be placed, panicking when she didn't feel the polished hard wood. She glanced around quickly, cursing when her eyes finally landed upon the familiar, now broken, curved wood that lay in her father's hands. Aeron couldn't meet his eyes no matter how hard she tried to look up and away from the carnage that was her bow. Something told her that she was lucky she wasn't apart of the heap of bodies burning slowly in behind her...
When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Winter is almost upon us, it will be long and hard, but the North remembers and the wolves will come again.
kaelln

Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by kaelln »

Very well done! Not many mistakes either, and I've seen nothing that you've written that any editor couldn't quickly fix up to be publication ready. You're already a much better writer than I was at your age. This forum has a lot of talented folks!
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Hanasian
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Re: Daughter of Arnor

Post by Hanasian »

(Many years later, Hanasian walks in...)
Quite a nice tale you write here Ranger of Arthedain! Enjoyed reading it! You are a formidable writer who can portray the scene well with your words. :)

I've been involved with a number of collaborative RP writing projects over the years, and it is golden when you find a few writers who are dedicated to the tale and can interact with each other easily. Unfortunately its been my experience that this is the exception rather than the rule. Many attempts have been literal dogs breakfasts, and after a short time I usually write out my main character and let them have at it. I like these 'round robins' as you call them, enjoyable rather than hard work.

I wish to toast a co writer that was one of 6 of us who could write these things up in a whim with each other almost too easily. We were all over the world, so the time zones were scattered enough that it seemed to flow quite well. Then one day one of the writers simply disappeared. We found out later that he had been killed in a car accident. We all tried to carry on, but it was just not the same, and we all drifted away from the tales, and eventually lost contact with each other.

Anyway, I'm being long-winded here. Thanks again Ranger of Arthedain for sharing your fine writing.
Hanasían
Annalist, Physician, & Historian
of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
The Free Company of Arnor
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