Daughter of Arnor
Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 3:12 am
I decided to finally post my story I began working on a few nights ago. It's no wheres near as brilliant as most of the works on here, currently, but I wanted to share it with you guys none the less. Criticism is greatly appreciated, as I'm striving to improve my writing skills.
I would also like to make a suggestion before I post my story; What do you guys think of Round Robins? For those that do not know, they are similar to roleplaying, I guess you could say, but they are more detailed. It's more like collaborative writing. Basically, you come up with a plot line for a story, and you take turns with other writers developing and progressing the story. What do you guys think?
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"Lacho calad! Drego morn!"
The battle cry of her people rang out clear and loud, piercing the cold twilight in what is called the Angle, a place situated in the old kingdom of Rhudaur, between the rivers Hoarwell and Bruinen. Her head snapped up, her instincts causing her tired body to move of its own accord. Sword unsheathed from his worn scabbard, her father moved past her hastily, dashing towards the few other male Dunedain who were quickly making their way towards the faint cry for help. The young ranger in training reached for her own sword that lay sheathed in the newly crafted leather scabbard above the fireplace on the mantelpiece. Her mother's slender fingers wrapped around her forearm firmly, before she could even touch the smooth brown leather of her sword's sheath.
"Stay where you are, let the men handle this."
Grey eyes narrowed into slits, her outstretched hand clenched into a tight fist.
"But I can fight!"
"Nay, you are still weary from your journey!" Her mother's sharp tone cut her to the bone, but she did not falter. "You will only get yourself slain, Aeron!"
The young woman winced at her mother's words. It had been a reflex, upon hearing the battlecry of old, to reach for the first weapon in sight. Aeron knew the words meant danger was close at hand. Her arm went slack, falling to her side when her mother released it. She did not want to admit to such things, but her mother was right; she would surely be slain if she rushed out to help the others defend their small settlement. She did not think it fair, however true the words may be, because the male Dunedain never had time to rest after their own journeys, why should she be any different? All Aeron could do now was wait idly by the door for them to return; be it alive or dead. The orcs were becoming more fierce and persistent these days, always attempting to penetrate the walls of the small Dunedain settlements that were situated in the Angle. The small population of Dunedain that resided there was beginning to dwindle; only a handful remained in each tiny settlement.
This was Aeron's home, though, since the day her mother Aerian gave birth to her. Her father had expected a son; an heir to the Northern kingdom of Arnor, but instead he received a daughter. Still, he was joyous for being blessed with her, and loved her just the same. Daeradan never regretted having her, albeit he was disheartened that he (or so he thought) could not pass down the ways of the ranger to his offspring. As the young girl grew, she learned this. Wanting nothing more than to make her father proud (by giving him the son he never had); Aeron decided that she would not become like a caged beast, locked away inside a house in the kitchen for the remainder of her life. She would become one of the heirs, or in her case, an heiress to the Northern kingdom of Arnor; she would become a Ranger of the North.
"They come!"
A flash of forest green and rusty brown flew pass Aerian, the cold winter air entering inside the cozy warm house for the second time that night. Small balls of glowing orange light could be seen bobbing through the night as women carried them, rushing towards their menfolk who were just passing through the gate of the settlement. Two men were being carried on make shift stretchers, while others were leaning on their brethren for support. Aeron could make out her father's tall, broad shouldered figure in the front, one arm cradling the other. Her mother had joined her at this point, using the torch she held to examine her husband's arm when he came to them.
"Two were slain," his face seemed more haggard in the light glow of the torch, "Five wounded including me." His eyes followed the two rangers that lay lifeless on the stretchers, being carried inside the small healing house they had built just last summer. "They were not of our brethren here in the Angle, but of those belonging to the encampment settled in the North Downs."
"Two of Halbarad's men?" her mother asked, one hand on the small of her father's back, ushering him back inside to the warmth of their fire. Aeron's father did not answer her until he was seated in his favorite chair that sat next to the fire place. Aerian had already been heating a bowl of water, with the medicinal herbs close at hand, just for this very purpose. It was only after his arm was bandaged, that he nodded his head in reply.
"Aye."
"What business did they have here in the Angle, then?"
Aeron piped up from her spot on the hearth, back to the warm fire.
"Delivering a message to me."
Aeron watched him pull out a bloodied, crumpled piece of parchment from a pocket on the inside of his brown leather duster. He handed the letter to Aerian, closing his weary, brown eyes. Aeron turned attentive grey eyes towards her mother, watching the woman's delicate fingers smooth out the parchment paper, unfolding it.
To: Captain Daeradan of the Dunedain
The Angle
South of Rivendell, between the Hoarwell and Bruinen Rivers
I pray this letter finds you, brother. We here in the North Downs are in need of your assistance. The men of the Iron Crown have allied with a segment of the hillmen and orcs in Angmar once more. Some Iron Crown have even travelled into the northern part of the North Downs and allied with the band of orcs there. They've already begun to build war machines, the likes of which we have not seen before. I have sent word to the Captain of the rangers of Evendim, but they too are fighting the forces of the Angmarim. I do not know if they will answer to my call of aide; but I beseech you to listen to me. I have too few men here to send a full sized company into Angmar, I myself cannot go for I must remain here incase counsel is sent from our Lord or one of our allies. Make swift your actions, friend, the forces of Angmar waits for no one.
Halbarad of the Dunedain, Ranger of the North
Silence engulfed the house for a moment, Aerian staring at the letter, Aeron gazing up at her father, and Daeradan still sitting with his eyes closed. For a moment, the two women thought he was asleep, but his eyes slowly opened, glancing in the direction of the letter. The crackling of the fire all most completely drowned out Daeradan's reply.
"I cannot answer his plea for help."
His voice was strained and quiet, his face haggard but taught. Daeradan was angered at the fact that he saw no hope for his brethren in the North Downs; there was no hope, even, for his own men here in the Angle.
"What do you mean you cannot answer?!"
Daeradan's head snapped in the direction of where his daughter sat next to him, eyebrows furrowing.
"Be silent Aeron. I cannot answer his plea because we are in need of aide here; if you have not noticed, we too are low on men here in the Angle."
Aeron's lips formed into a thin line, grabbing her knees and drawing them closer to her chest. Her mother refolded the letter, handing it back to her tired husband. He held it in his hands for a moment before laying it in his lap, still staring at it.
"Father, send word to Lord Elrond in Rivendell! Ask him to dispatch elven sentries here at each of our small settlements. Send out the quickest rider here amongst the Rangers."
Daeradan looked at his daughter once more, sighing in frustration.
"Even if I sent out the fastest rider, what would we do until aide arrived? Who will protect the women and children until then? The wounded cannot."
Aeron grew silent once more, glancing away from her father; he had raised a valid point.
"We cannot ignore his plea, father. We take a few men from each village; enough to make a small company. Those that remain, aside from the wounded, can surely defend our homes against the orcs. I am sure Halbarad can afford to spare only a few of his own men to complete our company."
"Our company?"
Daeradan arched an eyebrow at her causing her to be taken aback by his question.
"Father, please. You have to let me go with you! How am I to become a ranger if I'm never allowed outside of these walls?"
Silence again. Daeradan glanced up in his wife's direction, his eyes pleading for her to rescue him. He truly did NOT want to have this conversation with his daughter at the present moment. He was much too tired and aggravated.
"Aeron, please, it is a long journey from here to Halbarad's encampment. You are inexperienced still, and-"
"I will not be a hindrance to you or your men if that is what you're hinting at, father."
Her voice raised slightly, eyebrows narrowing in the same manner as her father's had previously.
"Mind your tongue, woman, and do not interrupt me again."
He silently watched her turn her head away again, glaring at the wooden floor beneath her. Not only was she still inexperienced, but she was still young; though she was of age, and very much immature still.
"Forgive me father, but all I'm saying is this would be good experience for me."
"Aeron this is not your normal everyday trek through the woods! We will be heading deep into enemy territory; enemies that are not your normal everyday orc or hill troll! Some are more deadly than others because they possess sorcery; dark magic! You WILL die if you are not careful! I cannot be there to guide you all the time, my daughter." His voice began to soften, as did his expression.
"Then at least I will die honorably beside of my brethren! I am no longer a child, father and I am not THAT inexperienced! I can handle my own! You've taught me well, father, the ways of the ranger; no matter how inexperienced you still think I am."
Daeradan's eyes narrowed into slits at his persistent daughter, sticking the letter back inside his pocket. He did not relish the idea of having his only child ride alongside him into battle. It would surely be the death of him; having to worry about her safety and his men, rather than his own.
"Very well, then, since you are so adamant about going. Mark my words this journey will be an arduous one and I will treat you no different than I do my men."
Aeron gazed up at her father whom was staring at her, clearly upset that he had made this decision. She simply nodded her head muttering a yes sir to him quietly.
"Off to bed with you, we gather the men from each village at foredawn and form our company. We ride for Halbard's encampment in the morn."
Aeron nodded her head, standing up and walking into her cool, dark room. She did not bother with changing out of her current attire, plopping herself down on her soft bed. She kicked off her boots, laying back with her hands resting in behind her head. She stared at the star dotted sky out her window, sighing. The young ranger was too excited; anticipated for the journey that lay ahead of her, meaning no sleep came to her that night. Aeron closed her eyes, resting them after a while, her ears picking up on the faint murmurs of her parents' voices. Finally, she drifted off into slumber, dreaming of forgotten kings and ancient, ruined realms.
I would also like to make a suggestion before I post my story; What do you guys think of Round Robins? For those that do not know, they are similar to roleplaying, I guess you could say, but they are more detailed. It's more like collaborative writing. Basically, you come up with a plot line for a story, and you take turns with other writers developing and progressing the story. What do you guys think?
______________________________________________________
"Lacho calad! Drego morn!"
The battle cry of her people rang out clear and loud, piercing the cold twilight in what is called the Angle, a place situated in the old kingdom of Rhudaur, between the rivers Hoarwell and Bruinen. Her head snapped up, her instincts causing her tired body to move of its own accord. Sword unsheathed from his worn scabbard, her father moved past her hastily, dashing towards the few other male Dunedain who were quickly making their way towards the faint cry for help. The young ranger in training reached for her own sword that lay sheathed in the newly crafted leather scabbard above the fireplace on the mantelpiece. Her mother's slender fingers wrapped around her forearm firmly, before she could even touch the smooth brown leather of her sword's sheath.
"Stay where you are, let the men handle this."
Grey eyes narrowed into slits, her outstretched hand clenched into a tight fist.
"But I can fight!"
"Nay, you are still weary from your journey!" Her mother's sharp tone cut her to the bone, but she did not falter. "You will only get yourself slain, Aeron!"
The young woman winced at her mother's words. It had been a reflex, upon hearing the battlecry of old, to reach for the first weapon in sight. Aeron knew the words meant danger was close at hand. Her arm went slack, falling to her side when her mother released it. She did not want to admit to such things, but her mother was right; she would surely be slain if she rushed out to help the others defend their small settlement. She did not think it fair, however true the words may be, because the male Dunedain never had time to rest after their own journeys, why should she be any different? All Aeron could do now was wait idly by the door for them to return; be it alive or dead. The orcs were becoming more fierce and persistent these days, always attempting to penetrate the walls of the small Dunedain settlements that were situated in the Angle. The small population of Dunedain that resided there was beginning to dwindle; only a handful remained in each tiny settlement.
This was Aeron's home, though, since the day her mother Aerian gave birth to her. Her father had expected a son; an heir to the Northern kingdom of Arnor, but instead he received a daughter. Still, he was joyous for being blessed with her, and loved her just the same. Daeradan never regretted having her, albeit he was disheartened that he (or so he thought) could not pass down the ways of the ranger to his offspring. As the young girl grew, she learned this. Wanting nothing more than to make her father proud (by giving him the son he never had); Aeron decided that she would not become like a caged beast, locked away inside a house in the kitchen for the remainder of her life. She would become one of the heirs, or in her case, an heiress to the Northern kingdom of Arnor; she would become a Ranger of the North.
"They come!"
A flash of forest green and rusty brown flew pass Aerian, the cold winter air entering inside the cozy warm house for the second time that night. Small balls of glowing orange light could be seen bobbing through the night as women carried them, rushing towards their menfolk who were just passing through the gate of the settlement. Two men were being carried on make shift stretchers, while others were leaning on their brethren for support. Aeron could make out her father's tall, broad shouldered figure in the front, one arm cradling the other. Her mother had joined her at this point, using the torch she held to examine her husband's arm when he came to them.
"Two were slain," his face seemed more haggard in the light glow of the torch, "Five wounded including me." His eyes followed the two rangers that lay lifeless on the stretchers, being carried inside the small healing house they had built just last summer. "They were not of our brethren here in the Angle, but of those belonging to the encampment settled in the North Downs."
"Two of Halbarad's men?" her mother asked, one hand on the small of her father's back, ushering him back inside to the warmth of their fire. Aeron's father did not answer her until he was seated in his favorite chair that sat next to the fire place. Aerian had already been heating a bowl of water, with the medicinal herbs close at hand, just for this very purpose. It was only after his arm was bandaged, that he nodded his head in reply.
"Aye."
"What business did they have here in the Angle, then?"
Aeron piped up from her spot on the hearth, back to the warm fire.
"Delivering a message to me."
Aeron watched him pull out a bloodied, crumpled piece of parchment from a pocket on the inside of his brown leather duster. He handed the letter to Aerian, closing his weary, brown eyes. Aeron turned attentive grey eyes towards her mother, watching the woman's delicate fingers smooth out the parchment paper, unfolding it.
To: Captain Daeradan of the Dunedain
The Angle
South of Rivendell, between the Hoarwell and Bruinen Rivers
I pray this letter finds you, brother. We here in the North Downs are in need of your assistance. The men of the Iron Crown have allied with a segment of the hillmen and orcs in Angmar once more. Some Iron Crown have even travelled into the northern part of the North Downs and allied with the band of orcs there. They've already begun to build war machines, the likes of which we have not seen before. I have sent word to the Captain of the rangers of Evendim, but they too are fighting the forces of the Angmarim. I do not know if they will answer to my call of aide; but I beseech you to listen to me. I have too few men here to send a full sized company into Angmar, I myself cannot go for I must remain here incase counsel is sent from our Lord or one of our allies. Make swift your actions, friend, the forces of Angmar waits for no one.
Halbarad of the Dunedain, Ranger of the North
Silence engulfed the house for a moment, Aerian staring at the letter, Aeron gazing up at her father, and Daeradan still sitting with his eyes closed. For a moment, the two women thought he was asleep, but his eyes slowly opened, glancing in the direction of the letter. The crackling of the fire all most completely drowned out Daeradan's reply.
"I cannot answer his plea for help."
His voice was strained and quiet, his face haggard but taught. Daeradan was angered at the fact that he saw no hope for his brethren in the North Downs; there was no hope, even, for his own men here in the Angle.
"What do you mean you cannot answer?!"
Daeradan's head snapped in the direction of where his daughter sat next to him, eyebrows furrowing.
"Be silent Aeron. I cannot answer his plea because we are in need of aide here; if you have not noticed, we too are low on men here in the Angle."
Aeron's lips formed into a thin line, grabbing her knees and drawing them closer to her chest. Her mother refolded the letter, handing it back to her tired husband. He held it in his hands for a moment before laying it in his lap, still staring at it.
"Father, send word to Lord Elrond in Rivendell! Ask him to dispatch elven sentries here at each of our small settlements. Send out the quickest rider here amongst the Rangers."
Daeradan looked at his daughter once more, sighing in frustration.
"Even if I sent out the fastest rider, what would we do until aide arrived? Who will protect the women and children until then? The wounded cannot."
Aeron grew silent once more, glancing away from her father; he had raised a valid point.
"We cannot ignore his plea, father. We take a few men from each village; enough to make a small company. Those that remain, aside from the wounded, can surely defend our homes against the orcs. I am sure Halbarad can afford to spare only a few of his own men to complete our company."
"Our company?"
Daeradan arched an eyebrow at her causing her to be taken aback by his question.
"Father, please. You have to let me go with you! How am I to become a ranger if I'm never allowed outside of these walls?"
Silence again. Daeradan glanced up in his wife's direction, his eyes pleading for her to rescue him. He truly did NOT want to have this conversation with his daughter at the present moment. He was much too tired and aggravated.
"Aeron, please, it is a long journey from here to Halbarad's encampment. You are inexperienced still, and-"
"I will not be a hindrance to you or your men if that is what you're hinting at, father."
Her voice raised slightly, eyebrows narrowing in the same manner as her father's had previously.
"Mind your tongue, woman, and do not interrupt me again."
He silently watched her turn her head away again, glaring at the wooden floor beneath her. Not only was she still inexperienced, but she was still young; though she was of age, and very much immature still.
"Forgive me father, but all I'm saying is this would be good experience for me."
"Aeron this is not your normal everyday trek through the woods! We will be heading deep into enemy territory; enemies that are not your normal everyday orc or hill troll! Some are more deadly than others because they possess sorcery; dark magic! You WILL die if you are not careful! I cannot be there to guide you all the time, my daughter." His voice began to soften, as did his expression.
"Then at least I will die honorably beside of my brethren! I am no longer a child, father and I am not THAT inexperienced! I can handle my own! You've taught me well, father, the ways of the ranger; no matter how inexperienced you still think I am."
Daeradan's eyes narrowed into slits at his persistent daughter, sticking the letter back inside his pocket. He did not relish the idea of having his only child ride alongside him into battle. It would surely be the death of him; having to worry about her safety and his men, rather than his own.
"Very well, then, since you are so adamant about going. Mark my words this journey will be an arduous one and I will treat you no different than I do my men."
Aeron gazed up at her father whom was staring at her, clearly upset that he had made this decision. She simply nodded her head muttering a yes sir to him quietly.
"Off to bed with you, we gather the men from each village at foredawn and form our company. We ride for Halbard's encampment in the morn."
Aeron nodded her head, standing up and walking into her cool, dark room. She did not bother with changing out of her current attire, plopping herself down on her soft bed. She kicked off her boots, laying back with her hands resting in behind her head. She stared at the star dotted sky out her window, sighing. The young ranger was too excited; anticipated for the journey that lay ahead of her, meaning no sleep came to her that night. Aeron closed her eyes, resting them after a while, her ears picking up on the faint murmurs of her parents' voices. Finally, she drifted off into slumber, dreaming of forgotten kings and ancient, ruined realms.