Ranger of the North

[Dailir]

Very nicely written! But now that you've let us sample it, you're not getting away without letting us read the rest!

[kaelln]

Oh yeah, this is good stuff! Keep it going!

[Mirimaran]

--------------------------------------
I awoke, my head splitting, my hands and ankles bound tight. I gritted my teeth through the pain, trying to lessen the pounding of my heart so that I could hear the heated conversation that was going on just beyond the dying firelight.

"A Ranger? You had to attack a Ranger? We're goners for sure!" I had to blink for twice a moment to clear my eyes. A hobbit! Out in the middle of nowhere, his once fine clothes now ragged and road weary, a bright coloured waistcoat stained with travel. He looked young, for a hobbit, perhaps just at the age they deem their manhood. His round and ruddy face now a mask of worry. I began to become less inclined to violence and more curious.

"How was I to know?", said the second, a mortal woman, but her voice was low and steady. I could barely make out her form in the dim light, but what a form it was! Long red tresses flowed down her back like a waterfall, bound roughly with rawhide so that the great mane was pulled back from a face as pale as the moonlight. Her eyes danced in the starry night, and if I knew that no malice could come of her friendship, I would desire it.

"He'll be angry that you bopped him, Morielda", said the dwarf, his beard braided and braced with delicate silver bindings, the dying firelight glinting from scale; blond hair escaped from a dark hood.

"Hold your tongue! No names", I heard this Morielda hiss back at her companion, a glance thrown my way.

"It is said that their kind are like shadows, and the less he knows about us, the better!"

"Besides", said the hobbit, "his kit and gear are poor. Nothing worth taking except his weapons, and they are a mite big for me to carry." He dove into my pack, and looked up with a sigh.

"No food", he moaned, "I will starve out here, surely!"

"Let me see", exclaimed the dwarf, who fingered my long knife.

"Nice bow", said Morielda, testing the draw.

I fumed. It was one thing to be struck from behind, and tied up like a thief, but to have my gear and weapons haggled over, in front of me, no less...my blood boiled! But I kept my tongue in check, 'those who stay silent, hear much', the words of my old master spoke from the past over the pounding in my head.

"Bah, I've seen better steel in the rework smithy", said the dwarf, setting my knife down.

"And this bow has seen better days, but well used. Many arrows have been shot with it." The hobbit made to look at me, and then turned to his companions and said,

"I think it best to leave now. He will recover soon. I don't think he'll follow us anyway, not as far North as we have to go."

There was a silence among the three, as if what was waiting for them in the far North was something too terrible to mention.

Finally the woman spoke.

"A Ranger...would make for a good companion."

"Insane!" cried the dwarf, "unloose him and he will fly into us as the falcon does the hare! Then I will never..." The dwarf stopped short, a hand going to his face. The woman looked at me and said,

"His kind roam these lands, he could be of use, especially when we find..."

She stopped and put a comforting hand on the dwarf's shoulder. The dwarf hung his head low.

"But can he be trusted?" asked the hobbit softly. The woman smiled and motioned to me.

"Ask him yourself", said Morielda, "he's been watching and listening the whole time."

[Jon]

Thumbs up!

[Greg]

Foreshadowing of a little love story, I sense here! Very nice!

[Mirimaran]

--------------------------------------

"But can he be trusted?" asked the hobbit softly. The woman smiled and motioned to me.

"Ask him yourself", said Morielda, "he's been watching and listening the whole time."

I gritted my teeth and then said,

"Trusted enough, it seems, to be allowed to live. Kindly untie me, Master Hobbit, and I will give you what victuals I have."

The hobbit rushed forward, a slim knife in his hands as he sawed my bonds free.

"A hundred, nay, a thousand pardons dear sir! A misunderstanding, a mistaking, as it were!" I sat up, rubbing my wrists as the blood flowed back into my hands.

"Think nothing of it, good hobbit. Dark would be the day that a Ranger of the North would do harm to one of the Little Folk." My eyes narrowed to slits as I took in the fire-draped form of the woman and the dwarf.

"Though some might fall outside of my grace", I added. I reached behind my back, slowly, as the movement caused the flamed tressed woman's hand to stray to her sword hilt, and opened my need-wallet. I tossed a small bundle to the eager hobbit.

"Waybread, of my people. Poor fare for one of the Little Folk, to be sure, but we Rangers travel light." The hobbit made to devour the waybread, but then stopped and bowed low.

"Deridore Took, at your service, sir! My friends call me Derry. Or late for dinner.'

Then he ate the way-bread, in one bite, it seemed.

"Mirimaran Dunadan, at yours, Derry", I replied with a smile and nodded.

I motioned to the woman.

"So, I take it you are Morielda, curious name, for a child of Men."

"Morielda is a walking riddle", said the hobbit, "but a good companion."

"And you, Master Dwarf, far from your mountains we are. What name should I call you besides lost?"

"Suspicious", came the dwarf's terse reply.

I stood and stretched. I could not have been out for long, for the stars still hung low in the sky, and the dawn threatened. I gathered up my weapons.

"Regardless of who you are, I doubt you know where you are besides too far from anywhere you want to be. How come you here?"

"We were ambushed", said Morielda, handing me my bow, "bandits, two nights ago. All our gear was taken."

"And the food", said Derry, "they took everything."

"You are still breathing", said the Dwarf.

"No thanks to you", replied Derry.

"Come now!", said Morielda, "What is, is. Good Ranger, we are sorry for the wrong we dealt you. We thought the bandits had returned."

"Bandits? Why would bandits be out here?" I asked. Indeed, anywhere that my people wandered.

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps they found new hunting grounds, little resistance. They will be dealt with."

"Yes", I said, "These lands are protected by the Rangers of the North. My kinsmen", I paused, thinking of those I foolishly abandoned, "they camp to the south. You should follow me and report this to my Captain."

"No!", spat the dwarf, but then Morielda shot him a cutting glance.

"Distant kin", she said to me, "for my people wandered far after the great ships landed from lost Westernesse and found refuge near the Iron Hills, my friend has had a great wrong done to him. A kinsman was lost. We track the slayer."

I looked at the dwarf, who at Morielda's words looked down and seemed lost in his own grief.

"I am sorry for your loss, Master Dwarf", I said to him kindly, "and I will do all that I can to aid you, for no murderer walks free in our land. But bandits, far as we are from the Shire and Bree-land, I must report this."

I pointed to the dull glow in the eastern sky.

"The dawn is upon us. I tell you that there is little game here, and that if you continue that you will be lost beyond hope, for even Rangers can stray into the wilderness and not walk out of it. I offer my friendship and counsel to you. Take it as you will."

Derry looked to his companions.

"Well, you asked to trust him, Morielda", he said, dusting off his coat, "and he has mine. What say you?"

The woman looked to the dwarf and said softly,

"We will find him, and do what must be done. Perhaps this Ranger was meant to help us." The dwarf grumbled something and hoisted his axe. Morielda then walked past me, taking Derry's hand.

"Come on, then", she said to the dwarf.

The dwarf shouldered past me as I kicked out the remnants of the fire.

"Rodulhar", he said...