Some pics and a story.
Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2016 7:38 pm
I decided to have some fun while ranging Saturday afternoon and took some action shots. Musing that evening I decided to whip up a short story to go with it. I'm no bard so bear with me.
The sun was rising in the east as Ursus entered the low country around the Anduin. It had been more than two months since he had left the settlements of his people in search of the valuable information sought by the Chief. Rumor in the ranks was that the White Council had learned that a creature was on the loose with valuable information about the weapon of the enemy. The Chief had turned out all the remaining rangers to learn of the creatures where about. Ursus had volunteered to enter deep in to the enemies lands and learn what could be learned.
After great peril and weariness he had learned what he came to learn and now set his eyes toward home. Not long after the enemy picked up his trail and hastened after him. After trying in vain for days to lose them he knew he must turn soon and fight. His supplies where nearly exhausted and he was approaching weariness when at last he came upon the ground he sought. It was a broad trail running through leagues of dense woodland. Here he would fight or fall. He pushed hard and gained some extra distance ahead of the enemy. After caching his dwindling supplies he checked his weapons. He longed for his great bow, lost weeks ago while crossing a violent stream. Instead he drew forth his great sword, forged by the best smiths under the Mountain. It was sharper than the coldest wind that blade and shone like moonlight on water. From his pack he pulled a sealed leather wallet containing a slender phial of liquid, a parting gift from one of his companions. Pulling the waxed stopper he downed the contents and felt the weariness leave his body as strength returned to his limbs. With everything ready he started back down the trail. By the time the enemy came in sight he was singing a victory song of his ancestors. His trot became a jog, and then a full charge. The enemy where mostly smaller and broad, with some of their larger kin scattered amongst them. He guessed their number to be around a dozen. They drew together thinking the reckless ranger would fling himself on them, eager for a quick death. Not so easily would the Bear of the Dunedain be brought low. His ruse had worked. The enemy thought he was singing his death song and that he came for death. Instead he had come for life, theirs. His song now rose to a guttural roar as at the last second he broke hard to the right and came in swiftly on their flank.
They could not move well, packed tight as they were and he drove them before him. The great blade slashed and spun and sliced, ever ringing. Cold pain burned down his left arm from a cut, but the effects of the cordial blunted it still and slowed him not. To the enemy it seemed he was surrounded by a cage of silver steel. Try as the might they couldn't hem him in or contain him. Instead they strung themselves out chasing him and so lost the strength of numbers. With edge and point and hilt he laid them low. He executed a complex maneuver the Chief had taught him as a youth that sent the orc captains head spinning from his shoulders. At that the survivors broke and ran. His spirit alight with the joy of battle he ran them down to the last man.
Utterly spent Ursus finally sagged against a tree breathing steady but hard. The enemies route had taken him towards his cached goods. Locating it he pulled a length of cloth from his bag and wrapped around his arm which bled freely still. The wound was deep but not so serious as to need further treatment immediately. He would treat it after he had put some distance between him and the noise of the fight. First he cleaned and oiled his blade and checked it for damage. Finding none he sheathed it and slung his gear over his shoulders before trudging on towards home again. The finding of the creature would be up to the Chief but at least he was able to aid in his Kings eventual task. Even so he sensed he was being pulled into larger events to come.
The sun was rising in the east as Ursus entered the low country around the Anduin. It had been more than two months since he had left the settlements of his people in search of the valuable information sought by the Chief. Rumor in the ranks was that the White Council had learned that a creature was on the loose with valuable information about the weapon of the enemy. The Chief had turned out all the remaining rangers to learn of the creatures where about. Ursus had volunteered to enter deep in to the enemies lands and learn what could be learned.
After great peril and weariness he had learned what he came to learn and now set his eyes toward home. Not long after the enemy picked up his trail and hastened after him. After trying in vain for days to lose them he knew he must turn soon and fight. His supplies where nearly exhausted and he was approaching weariness when at last he came upon the ground he sought. It was a broad trail running through leagues of dense woodland. Here he would fight or fall. He pushed hard and gained some extra distance ahead of the enemy. After caching his dwindling supplies he checked his weapons. He longed for his great bow, lost weeks ago while crossing a violent stream. Instead he drew forth his great sword, forged by the best smiths under the Mountain. It was sharper than the coldest wind that blade and shone like moonlight on water. From his pack he pulled a sealed leather wallet containing a slender phial of liquid, a parting gift from one of his companions. Pulling the waxed stopper he downed the contents and felt the weariness leave his body as strength returned to his limbs. With everything ready he started back down the trail. By the time the enemy came in sight he was singing a victory song of his ancestors. His trot became a jog, and then a full charge. The enemy where mostly smaller and broad, with some of their larger kin scattered amongst them. He guessed their number to be around a dozen. They drew together thinking the reckless ranger would fling himself on them, eager for a quick death. Not so easily would the Bear of the Dunedain be brought low. His ruse had worked. The enemy thought he was singing his death song and that he came for death. Instead he had come for life, theirs. His song now rose to a guttural roar as at the last second he broke hard to the right and came in swiftly on their flank.
They could not move well, packed tight as they were and he drove them before him. The great blade slashed and spun and sliced, ever ringing. Cold pain burned down his left arm from a cut, but the effects of the cordial blunted it still and slowed him not. To the enemy it seemed he was surrounded by a cage of silver steel. Try as the might they couldn't hem him in or contain him. Instead they strung themselves out chasing him and so lost the strength of numbers. With edge and point and hilt he laid them low. He executed a complex maneuver the Chief had taught him as a youth that sent the orc captains head spinning from his shoulders. At that the survivors broke and ran. His spirit alight with the joy of battle he ran them down to the last man.
Utterly spent Ursus finally sagged against a tree breathing steady but hard. The enemies route had taken him towards his cached goods. Locating it he pulled a length of cloth from his bag and wrapped around his arm which bled freely still. The wound was deep but not so serious as to need further treatment immediately. He would treat it after he had put some distance between him and the noise of the fight. First he cleaned and oiled his blade and checked it for damage. Finding none he sheathed it and slung his gear over his shoulders before trudging on towards home again. The finding of the creature would be up to the Chief but at least he was able to aid in his Kings eventual task. Even so he sensed he was being pulled into larger events to come.
