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 Post subject: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: January 21st, 2007, 11:29 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Author's Note: I wrote this several years ago now. This is probably the 7th revision. I hope you enjoy

~ ~ ~

In the years before the War of the Ring, a young Dunedain whose fondness of the Elven scripts began his service with the Rangers. He would keep notes and journals of his days, and over the years he had either written or acquired a large amount of writings.

These writings are presented and narrated (where noted) by Gilrenna, the niece of Ranger Hanasian, who came to possess much of his collection of writings.

The overall format is one of a personal journal of the Ranger Hanasian, where writing may be a bit choppy, awkward, vague, detailed, and such as one may be able to write depending on conditions in the field. Notes by Gilrenna will usually appear prefacing the writings or after their completion and will be [i]italacized
. This style was inspired in part by how Christopher Tolkien went through his fathers notes to write The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, and the History of Middle Earth books.[/i]

As Gilrenna works her way through compiling the vast amounts of scrolls, loose parchments, and books in various conditions, either written or collected by Hanasian, she will add chapters to this story. If an event she presents precedes any that have been already presented, It will take its place as an earlier numbered chapter. in an attempt to present the reader with a chronological reading.

The Recollections of a Dunedain Ranger makes mention of some of the major players and I think I tagged them. It is considered multi-age in the fact some of his writings were done in the years pre-War of the Ring, during the War of the Ring, the end of the 3rd Age, in the 4th Age. Dates will only be given if Hanasian had dated the writing himself, or if Gilrenna can determine the approximate date based on events mentioned in the writings.


~ ~ ~

Prologue - Notes from Gilrénna


"I am Gilrénna, daughter of Halcwyn, daughter of Halasían and sister of Hanasían. I have now in my keeping much of the writings of my uncle Hanasían, and also some of the collected writings of many who lived before his time which he collected. I wish now to share here some of these writings with people who will never delve into the great halls of knowledge in Minas Tirith, and more recently, the restored library in Annúminas. May the readers learn and know of these events, witnessed and written of from the years leading up the the great War of the Ring, during it, and long afterward. May we remember the great victory and have peace in our days."

Gilrénna

4th Age, year 121

_________________
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dunedain Ranger of the North
Annalist, Physician, & Historian
of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
The Free Company of Arnor


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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: September 10th, 2016, 11:04 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Chapter 2: The Battles of the Fords of Isen

The battle didn't go well. The Fords were held, and invasion of the Westfold was stopped, but with the death of Theodred, son of Theoden, King of Rohan, it all seemed so hollow. It seemed too easy, and talk went up that it was the death of the King's son that was sought over outright invasion. But I think otherwise. I think that it was the will of Isengard to cause Theodred's death and create havoc in the leadership of the armies of Rohan. It would have sped Saruman's victory, but for the arrival of Elfhelm and the valor of Grimbold and his men.

How is that I, Hanasian of the Dúnedain of the North, know of these things? I was there. Yes, I fought along side my mother's kin. I had come south to visit my mother and sister when my journey was delayed by troubles at the Fords. There I met my twin cousins, Folca and Frea, who were soldiers of Westfold. They were well armed and skilled in the craft of war, and had orders to allow none to pass the Fords without first meeting with Prince Theodred. It was they who were posted west of the Fords to watch the approach. I was greeted as family, but was led unarmed to see Theodred. I told him of signs of a Dunlanding army marching toward Isengard. He accepted me as Friend of the Rohirrim, and immediately sent me with some of his best scouts to approach the fortress to see. After much stealth, we managed to get a glimpse of them. They were joining a larger army massed and ready to march. We decided to return with word as fast as we could. Little did we know that they started their march from Isengard not long after we left the watch, so when we reported to Theodred all that we saw, the information was indeed already outdated.

With the news, Theodred rode west of the river with 8 companies to prepare in haste a forward defence. I was granted leave to stay at the fords to help fortify the crossing. There was not enough time to properly prepare, for no defense was ever thought to have been needed against one who was considered friend and leader of the White Council. But much was amiss for too long in Isengard, and sign was noted and sent to Edoras, yet the King never ordered any preparation.

But I digress in my grim thoughts. The armies of Isengard came in the morning mists, and Theodred was forced to fall back with heavy losses. A determined stand was made on the Eyot of the Fords, and with much brutality and death, the men of the Rohirrim held fast for a time. But with our men attacked on the east side of the river ford, we had to give way, leaving Theodred isolated on the eyot. We could hear his voice calling out,

"To Me Eorlingas!"

And his remaining men circled in defense on the knoll in the center of the eyot. Grimbold saw that they could not hold, and redoubled our effort against the orcs that stood between us and the Fords. With hard fighting, many were slew, orcs, Dunlandings and Rohirrim. But Grimbold had the battle, and managed, with my cousin Folca and a company physician, to come to Theodred. But as they fought their way to him, Theodred, and also his Standardbearer, fell. To his credit, even in death the Standardbearer refused to let the Standard fall. Folca took it, and held it high. Finally, Elfhelm with more horsemen sent the remaining enemy east of the river to scatter and be cut down. He pressed more men from the east side of the river to now cross to reinforce the eyot, and to battle with the last of the great axe-men. Men of the Rohirrim crushed against the Uruks in determined assault, and the Uruks broke into a disorderly retreat. Several were cut down by sword or felled by arrows as they fled, but only discipline kept them from pursuit into a trap. With victory at hand, some of the soldiers pressed to the west side of the Ford to hold defense should the attack be renewed.

For reasons unknown, the assault seemed to falter. The "victory" came at a high cost. Many veteran soldiers lay dead or dying, on the eyot and on both banks of the river. Many more were wounded but would live. But worse of all was Theodred. He had led the valiant defense of the Ford, and the enemy came at him in droves. Though the bodies of the Uruks were stacked like cordwood, they did not cease their assault until they saw Theodred struck down. Theodred, as he lay dying, held his spear and sword up and to the west as if in defense. Grimbold and Elfhelm lifted him, but Theodred said with his last breath,

"Let me lie here-to keep the Fords till Éomer comes!"

They lay him back down and there he remained while the company physician tried to save his life. But alas it would not be so. He bled out and died. As night fell over the field of blood. Men moaning, horses crying, and weeping aloud from those living....

After Theodred was slain, morale sagged heavily. Our losses were heavy on the east side of the River. Dunlanding horsemen and warg riders, backed by heavily armed Uruks had come down upon us. Fierce was the battle, and with our horses mostly scared off, we fought as infantry. But we held for the most part, despite being pushed from the Fords for a short time by Dunlanding light horsemen and Orc Warg-Riders. Had we been able to hold this flanking attack that came down the east side of the river, could we have come to Theodred on the eyot sooner?

After the battle, time was short to relieve the dead, and the horses were gathered as many as could be found. Word from Erkenbrand came that he was assuming overall command. Yet, leadership was unclear in the wake of Theodred's death, with Erkenbrand, Grimbold, and Elfhelm not agreeing on how to best defend against attacks from both sides of the river. Add to this no clear word from Edoras, and so council between the three went long. Grimbold set men about the Fords, and the defenses were shored as well as could be. When battle again came, I, along with my cousins was engaged at the Fords. But we were worn down, and with fresh Uruks engaging us, we broke. We retreated the best we could, but Elfhelm fared not well against the eastern force of Isengard. No help could be looked for from him, and the order was given to break and make for the south and retreat to Helms Deep.

I did not make it to Helms Deep, for I found my cousin Frea wandering aimlessly in the folds. An orc club has shattered his helm, and he was not in his right mind. I got him to lay low in a crevice of a rock, and we stayed there through the darkness. I think we were farther east than we should be. The cloud-obscured moon was a friend in keeping our movement hidden from the night eyes of the orcs, but the darkness too caused us to misdirect. When day came, sign of battle and where armies had moved could be seen in the grasses, but nobody could be seen. So Frea and I made our way toward the Hornburg on foot.

_________________
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dunedain Ranger of the North
Annalist, Physician, & Historian
of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
The Free Company of Arnor


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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: September 10th, 2016, 11:10 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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Chapter 3: A Brief Reunion


(parchment titled 'Shadows of the Mind' by the date)

7 Súlimë 3019 of the Third Age

The night was growing long but I could not sleep without first writing my thoughts, for I felt we sat on the edge of this age where all would either fall into darkness or burst forth unto light. This was the last night of any peace we would have and I wanted it to last. The fires in this great muster of the Rohirrim camp had burned in a solomn way, each throwing its light and warmth upon men gathered around them. A larger cookfire was burning near the center of the encampment, and all had eaten what they would. I spent much of the night in preparation, for I knew we would ride tomorrow. But I did take some time and walked about.

Passing by a group about a fire, I was waved to sit with some men gathered there and I did so. The elder man of the group sat beside fine armor, and in introduction I learned that his name was Dúnhere, the Lord of Harrowdale. We conversed for a time speaking of Aragorn, friends, and our lands in the north. In due course he spoke of knowing my mother Forcwyn. I asked him how she was for I had not been able to see her with our haste in these dark times being so great. He looked away for a moment, and then turned back to me saying she was well. Meanwhile a soldier outside the ring walked off. I then asked of Halcwyn my twin sister and he looked me in the eye and said,

'I believe she is well. Maybe you wish to ask her husband Éothaih?'

I looked to where his eyes turned to, and I noticed a man stand up by another fire not far away where Lord Éomer's men had gathered. The soldier that was summoned by Dúnhere stood with him and they spoke in brief. The man turned his gaze toward us, and soon both started to walk our way.

My mind raced with this news. My sister had married and I heard naught of it? I could not take my eyes from him as he approached. A tall man he was, slightly moreso than most of the Rohirrim. Grim was his demeanor, and as he eyed me I stood.

'You are my wife's brother?'

he asked and I nodded my head.

A moment of awkward silence followed as we sized each other up. I knew not what he may have heard of me from my sister and mother, but surely it was not all good. Both Forcwyn my mother and Halcwyn my sister had opposed my returning to Imladris ere thirteen years past. We were then fifteen, and I thought my learning would be best served by my study under the tutoring of the elves. My mother finally gave in, saying I was my father's son and would do what I thought right. In me she had hoped I would be like my older brother Hayna, or even better, stay close and live and be of the Rohirrim. But of us all, only Halcwyn remained close. Hayna was away south working the quays and ships along the coast of Gondor, and I went and remained in the north.

'I am, Hanasían, son of Halasían and Forcwyn, brother of Hayna and Halcwyn.'

'And I am Éothaih of Eastfold. It is a dark hour you finally come, though your kin have been here. I have been your brother-in-law for near 4 years now, and have heard of you only from your mother and sister's lips. Yet I have heard story and rumor of your father from many. I would be lying if I said this was a joyous meet.'

I could not reply, for the harsh words struck me hard. It was nothing though compared to what happened next. A woman, fair and tall, approached us. She took the arm of Éothain and looked at me. I did not know what to say to my sister as she stood before me. She stood there tall and proud, with a cold stare that cut through me.

'My wife Halcwyn.'

was all Éothaih said. I nodded in greeting, and she stiffened. Suddenly a hand slapped me across my cheek. Then fists were flailing into my face...

'Damm you Hanasian! Damm you! Damm you!'

I deserved it. Éothaih started to restrain her but let her go. Her pent up anger toward me tapered to tears and I embraced her.

'I am sorry my beloved sister...'

She quickly cut me off...
'....Mother is going to be so happy for a breath! We love you, But why come to us now when you ride off to war? Her sons... always going... at least Hayna comes home every year. You, we would get a letter now and then. And you come not to my wedding...'

She was holding me tight now, and I her. We were oblivious to the others watching save Éothaih. He took not his eyes off me, and did not step back from his wife's side.

'I knew not of your wedding, or if your marriage ere now!'

She looked back at me and ran her fingers through my hair. I brushed away a tear from her cheek and swallowed. She went on,

'I wrote you...'
'I never got it!'

No, the letter never arrived in Rivendell. Passage of the Fords of Tharbad was treacherous in the best of conditions. The letter must have been lost in a raid, or maybe the river crossing, and it found its way to the sea.

The reunion with my beloved sister was short, but it brought us some happiness in the end. We had been so close all our lives until we were fifteen. Forgiveness was the order of the day, and though I could never seem to break through the shell of distrust that surrounded Éothaih. It was his way Halcwyn assured me, for he was a proud man, distrusting at first those from outside the realm of Rohan. Time would tell if we would get along, if any time we had with the clouds of war and doom upon us. I looked forward to seeing mother again, but it would have to wait for days I could not see. There was no time now on the eve of battle, for Halcwyn would not leave until she saw Éothaih off. And I bade them farewell and took my leave of her and Éothaih, and also of Lord Dúnhere who silently sat by in witness of my reunion with my sister.

Time? What time do I think of? We ride to war, and in the darkness of the morn, Aragorn spoke to us of our road. As the light of the morning broke, all that had passed last night seemed a dream and we set out early for the Paths of the Dead....

_________________
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dunedain Ranger of the North
Annalist, Physician, & Historian
of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
The Free Company of Arnor


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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: September 10th, 2016, 11:11 pm 
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Chapter 4: Battle of the Pelennor - The Aftermath...

Smoke still rose from the white city, but its fires had for the most part been contained and were fading. But the black smoke stains tarnished its white stone façade… where the stone was not damaged. And the air… death was in it. Every breath you smelled it. So many people were out in the fields in search of their loved ones. There were wives and mothers looking for their husbands and sons. Wounded soldiers looked for their missing comrades, and some of the Rohirrim grieving for their fallen horses. Yes, the smell of death... the crying of those who found whom they searched for, and the moans of those not yet dead from their wounds filled the air.

I am Hanasían, a Dúnedain Ranger from the northern lands of Eriador. I am weary from the days past, where the last decent sleep I, and my brethren had was in Dunharrow nearly a fortnight ago. Yet I sleep not, for I write now for the dead... those fallen in this great battle outside Minas Tirith be they man or woman of Gondor, Arnor, or the Rohirrim. We had defeated Sauron's armies on this field. But the cost was high and this war is not yet over. For he hides now behind his great iron gates of Mordor, gathering his remaining strength, while we ourselves attempt to regain ours.

It seem a lifetime ago when I, along with well over two-dozen of my brethren answered a summons by our Captain Halbarad. He said we needed to ride in haste to come to aid our Chieftain Aragorn away south in the land of Rohan. We, along with the Sons of Elrond did ride south with speed, meeting Lord Aragorn and the escort of King Theoden of Rohan not long after crossing the River Isen. As the Rohirrim mustered for war, the foresight of Aragorn led us to take the Paths of the Dead. Of that part of the journey I have much to say, for Aragorn proclaimed himself to the Dead... he proclaimed himself Isildur's Heir! And they were called to the Stone of Erech to fulfill their oath. But here now I write for the new dead, those who lay about me here, those who will not return to their homes and families.

To the mouth of the Anduin we came in haste, and there with the aid of the dead and some local men (of whom I also have much to say, but again, another day) we fought and defeated the Corsairs of Umbar, the ancient brethren who had fallen into darkness and become enemies of Gondor. With their oath of old to Isildur fulfilled, Aragorn gave the dead their leave, and we took the corsair ships up the river. To Minas Tirith we came, arriving with the city engulfed in smoke and flame. Battle raged in and around the city walls, and elsewhere inside the Rammas Echor.

Swords rang, bows twanged, and engines thundered their deadly projectiles as the ships came ashore. The worst fighting I saw were where it was men fighting men… Easterlings battled Gondorians near the broken gates of the city; Variags fought we Dunedain; Southrons and their mumakil against the Rohirrim and their horses. The beasts of Harad rampaging and the horses of the Rohirrim storming in terror.... So much death... We engaged the enemy almost immediately, but not before our surprise was complete.

A wound I had taken near my left eye, a lasting memory of the Variags of Khand. He came at me from behind in a ravenous yell, leaping down from the body of a slain mumakil. I had just turned an axe of his brethren and I turned, but I could not react in time. Pain I felt as I fell backward, the warmth of my blood rushing down my face. His knife would have claimed me but for the sure sword of Halbarad taking off his arm. But still we fought, for he tried to take my sword with his remaining hand. We wrestled and fell to the ground, and I killed him with a knife I found. It was his knife, still in the grip of his severed limb. He was dead but there was no time to think, for another came at me. As soon as one was dispatched another would jump at you, or you would stop another from the blind side of your brethren. Their attacks were fierce, but our defense was even more so. As a group we pressed on from the shores of the river toward the city. But chaos of a stampeding oliphaunt caused many of us to scatter. It was then I saw Halladan go down with a blow from a screaming Southron falling from the beast, but I could not tend him. Easterlings, ruthless in their attacks, came upon us. My blade rang and my foe's axe shattered, blood flew everywhere when darkness closed around me....

A pain I felt in my head, wondering if it was still upon my shoulders. I remember thinking that I should move my hand, and the feeling that came over me was pain. My eyes cleared the foggy grey that crept into the dark, and blurry figures moved about before me. Somehow I stood, my sword still in my hand. I shook my head in a shudder to either shake off the webs that filled it, or see if it would fall to the ground. And just as suddenly, an Easterling jumped before me swinging his axe. My arm moved and deflected his blow, and the Variag knife I still gripped in my other hand buried into his neck. I now fought, I was not thinking or seeing. Rage drove me on, slaying and swinging. I nearly had the head of a fair armored Gondorian soldier, his helm long missing and his face dark with dirt and blood. He too moved against me, and our swords coming together rang out a song that awakened us both from our blindness. Looking around, pockets of battle still raged, but the west was having the day. Without thought, I, and the young Gondorian stood back-to-back, taking down those orcs who still pressed their masters will. But soon fatigue had taken us, and we sat and leaned against each other, fatigue claiming us.

In the aftermath people searched, With Halladan finding me sitting against a smashed siege tower. I was surprised to see him, for I had seen him fall. He was missing a part of his scalp, but was in good cheer to find me. I looked around for the young Gondorian soldier I had fought with, for I wished to know him. But there was no sign of his presence, and I would never know who he was. Halladan walked me towards the gates of the city where tents were being used to treat the wounded.

In ones and twos and threes we Dunedain brethren of the north came again together. Most, like me, had minor wounds of one sort or another, and as we gathered outside the smashed gates of the city, we looked about. Who had we lost? Aragorn himself came to us. He looked each in the face, the strain of battle on us all He seemed evermore relieved as his eyes met each of ours in turn. We all had lived with some of us having wounds to show. His look of relief suddenly become strained as he looked swiftly back over us, and he asked solemnly… where was Halbarad?

His hand was needed, for inside the city the house of healing was filled and overflowing with soldier and citizen alike. Those who could not be brought inside were laid in the streets, tended as best as could be. Out in the fields the tents of the wounded filled likewise, and the remaining were laid nearby where there was room. I had some healing experience, and so once my eye was tended and I could see straight, I did what I could for those wounded still in the field. All the while I looked for Halbarad, and my heart would tighten with each man I tended that I knew by their wound they would be dead by days end. What do you say to them? It is hard... so many dead and dying. A man of the Rohirrim, a young man he was. He was I would guess we just saw his twentieth winter. He talked in his native Rohirric tongue to his comrade next to him. He asked me to see to his friend, in good Westron like all was well. He knew he would die soon, but his concern was for his comrade who sat next to him. His friend didn't seem wounded but for a drying stream of blood that had run down his temple. But his mind was gone and he would stare only at a clover he pulled from the grass. The dying man told me he had taken a hard blow from the ground when his horse was slain in full gallop and fell from under him. The dying man told me his name, and only wanted me to promise his friend would get home ok, even while the last of his blood flowed out of him and he faded to death. I held his hand for a moment before his fried took it from me. I nodded and moved on.

The day was darkening, and I helped my brethren Kayan to our camp. His leg was badly mangled, and though he would live, he would suffer a severe limp. As we made our way, a halfling, dressed in the soiled and bloodied attire of the Palace Guard, wandered forlornly about, looking at the dead and dying. Others from the city searched still too, but most were now grieving while others prepared funeral pyres. As the night closed about us, the sons of Elrond joined us. We were for the most part together again, but still Aragorn's question remained....

Where was Halbarad?

We all asked ourselves this as we rested into the night. No sign of him had been seen since our moment of scattering. Kaldil had seen him last, standing upon the body of a slain mumakil, hewing the Southrons that had not the fear and sense to leave him be. But another mumakil stormed by and the dust was raised, and afterward, those who looked saw him there no more. We searched the place and found many a corpse, but not a sign of Halbarad.

The darkness of night claimed the lands as we rested and wept. Those of us who were able, readied themselves for the day to come, and those whose wounds were ill were set to rest and heal. Word had been carried from the city that the King had indeed come, but here where we encamped, our Chieftain joined us. It was not yet time.

Aragorn's face showed weariness that I had not seen before, and the edges of his hair and beard seemed to have a silvery aura to them. The firelight detailed the lines of care that shrouded him, but I saw not the tired Ranger Chieftain that fought hard a day's battle, but a man wizened. Wizened by the depth of his burden, and the knowing gut feeling that our friend and lieutenant would not see the light of another day. It was what we all felt inside really, though nobody spoke of it. Instead we spoke of the days to come, and what they held. Words of days in the north when our burden was to watch over the lands of the Shire we shared. Of times good and the weddings aplenty, of sons and daughters born in the quiet of the homes and the Midsummer's eve celebrations past. A feeling of cheer and laughter came out amongst some of us, pushing aside this day but for a time. But this too passed, and with a final chuckle of a memory long gone, silence again overtook the Rangers.

The fire crackled and the flicker of its light made the shadows dance. Around the fields there were other fires. The Rohirrim staked a large camp out farther from the city gate, and there kept their horses in check. Aragorn looked up and the stood, and all of us who could stand did so to look at the shadowy horse approaching.

'Hail Dúnedain! Is this the camp of the Rangers?'

'It is.'

Aragorn said as he stepped forward to have his back to the firelight. I too stepped forward at his left, and Kaldil did so at his right. The rider dismounted his horse and stood for a second. Our eyes seeing now in the darkness, we could tell he was of the Rohirrim. His helm was gone and the side of his face was covered in dried blood. We could see also that the horse was still burdened. The rider approached and spoke,

'I am Brytta of Dunharrow, and I bring bad tidings...'

Kaldil and I did not wait for Brytta's words, but went to the horse who stirred slightly from our approach. Aragorn's brow was crinkled as he cut the man's speech off...

'You bring us Halbarad.'

We lifted the bloodied body from the horse and carried him near the fire where Kallam prepared a place for him in Aragorn's tent. Aragorn looked at the wounds and his eyes grew wet with tears. Halbarad still breathed, but it was labored and slow, the sounds ill. His last strength lifted his hand to Aragorn's, and we knelt beside as Brytta stepped away to allow us a last moment with our comrade. Short burst of whispered, gurgling speech came forth from Halbarad as his eyes opened.

'My... my king! Your hour has come! But ere its passing I will join my fathers...'

'Quiet my friend and rest, for my hands will heal ...'

'Nay my lord. Not even the hands of a king can repair these wounds of arrow, sword, and knife. See now! Varda opens her cloak of twilight to light your way, and to carry me home. Speak well of me to my son and daughter...'

It was beyond Aragorn to say he would heal, but while he breathed there still was hope. Each of us came and sat for a time with Halbarad, mostly in silence as he rested. I could not speak, for I could not feel his strength. With a squeeze of his hand, I departed. Aragorn soon re-joined him, and he closed the tent to rest with Halbarad. Aragorn lay beside him, their hands bound together as a rough sleep overcame him.

We too took rest in tent or outside. Brytta stayed with us for a time, telling of the deeds of Halbarad that he saw. Apparently he had jumped from the dead beast where we had last seen him, and battled there the remaining Southrons that still stood. The thunder of the mumakil had scattered many of the Rohirrim, and Brytta rode headlong toward a wayward band of orcs that sought to slay the dour-handed Ranger standing alone. Brytta slew a couple while Halbarad slew more, and then he was pulled atop the horse and they turned about. The retreat was chaos as Easterling, Southron and orc ran this way and that, and the fight was drained from most. Halbarad was bleeding from a knife wound that was poisoned, and turned swords had cut his arms and legs. But the death knell of Halbarad was when a band of orc bowmen fired upon then in unison. Brytta's horse reared, taking an arrow and spilling he and Halbarad to the ground. Brytta split his head on rock debris, while Halbarad quickly regained his footing. The orcs were slinging arrows and fired as Brytta, stood dazed. Halbarad jumped to push him out of the way of the volley, but one late arrow caught him in the side, piercing his lung.

I noted this account in detail, and Brytta finished this telling and excused himself after his head was cleaned and bandaged. We rested as best we could, sleeping from exhaustion of nothing else, but were soon awake with the coming of daylight. The westward winds pushed back the darkness of Mordor, and the skies cleared with light clouds. Halbarad was lying in state in a field of honor of the fallen. King Theoden was there as well as many captain and soldier, of great renown or unknown, for many had fallen that day. Yes, Halbarad, the sullen Ranger and our friend had passed to his fathers in the night. His son and daughter will only have memory of him from before he rode south. His wife widowed at her prime. So it is with war, and now Aragorn gathered in council with Mithrander, Éomer, Prince Imrahil, and Elrond's sons Elladan and Elrohir.

_________________
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dunedain Ranger of the North
Annalist, Physician, & Historian
of The Black Company of the Dúnedain,
The Free Company of Arnor


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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: September 10th, 2016, 11:21 pm 
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Love the structure of this and how it reads so much like something that would really come from middle earth! :)

Thanks for sharing!

(And I see now that you have added new posts while I read your first two. I shall read more. :D )

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: January 7th, 2017, 9:39 pm 
Dunedain Ranger of Arnor
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I found some notes of Hanasian's early life and his joining the Dunedain Rangers. It is in written frmat on paper, so I'll have to transcribe it onto Word before I post it here.

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: February 3rd, 2017, 8:34 pm 
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That's cool. Is it the The Shadows Of Arthedain that you have been posting or something aside from that?

I keep meaning to go read some of the The Shadows Of Arthedain but my Star Wars game keeps calling to me... :P

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: February 3rd, 2017, 10:42 pm 
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It's something different than Shadows of Arthedain. It is more a history of the Dunedain Ranger character I created in an RP thread I was writing in back in 2000 called 'Shadow Over Arnor'. In that RP I had created a somewhat elderly Dunedain Ranger named Halasian, and the way he developed through the story, he was a bit amoral and wasn't a very nice guy. Sort if a 'good guy who did bad things' type. Toward that RP's end, the year was 2989 TA, and he had fathered two children with his formerly estranged Rohirrim wife Forcwyn. One child was Hanasian, and one child was his sister Halcwyn. These pages in this notebook takes up the story from the ending of the Shadow Over Arnor RP. I'll get around to posting it sometime.

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: February 4th, 2017, 1:53 am 
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I see. I always find backgrounds a lot of fun. I'll keep an eye out for them when you post.

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: February 9th, 2017, 5:36 pm 
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I seem to have three... no, four writing projects going right now. All about ¾ done.... This has taken a back burner for now.

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: February 12th, 2017, 1:37 pm 
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Yeah, I had started writing a short piece of fiction here a few weeks back and it's gone by the wayside simply due to other things. (Not even multiple writing projects)

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 Post subject: Re: Recollections of a Dúnedain Ranger
PostPosted: March 25th, 2017, 10:10 am 
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I'm going to post this here because it pertains to Hanasian's father and was the last post I partially wrote for him. It was posted to the RP 'Mists of Eraidor'about 10 years ago, and it was proxy posted by my friend Raven Tinuviel, for I was banned-for-life from the board 14 years ago. I wonder what Raven is up to these days, for I lost touch with her about 8 years ago. Anyway, the characters in this are the rough man, who is Halasian, Hanasian's father. Anna Ferny was an old friend of his who used to work at the Forsaken Inn as a cook and sometimes a maid, and was very skilled in drawing with charcoal. Also mentioned is her deceased sister Courtney Ferny, who worked at the Forsaken Inn as a serving maid. Courtney was Hanasian's 'go-to girl when he was in the north, for he was regularly unfaithful to Forcwyn, his wife and Hanasian's mother, who lived in Rohan. The 'young ranger' is Hanasian, his son, but he didn't know that. I wrote the basic post, and Raven worked it and edited it and posted it under her name in the RP. The narration is from the perspective of Halasian as he sought to find Anna. May you enjoy.


Morning in the village of Archet...

The hut looked the same... worn but lived in. A light, near invisible wisp of smoke drifted up from the stone chimney, likely a morning meal warming near the flame responsible. It was a hard place to find and seemed a good a place as any. She was likely there but he did not wish to go. Yet he had to, Too much he wished to see and know to wait any longer. He had seen the young ranger ride east, and after all grew quiet after his passing, he knew by the air that much was afoot in the land. He had to go see her...

The rough man had come to the door, and after standing there a moment in the warm rays of the sun, he tapped a rhythm.

"Come in slow."

The voice was hers, even though thoughts of Courtney were awakened. He put them promptly asleep as he slipped silently in the door.
It closed just as silently.
He stood there and looked at the woman busy stirring batter by the fire. With her back to him, he noticed her hair cascaded down her back in unkempt strands.
The silence was soon broken.

"You care to eat?"

Her voice rang out matter-of-factly as the hiss of the batter being poured over an iron plate by the fire started to bubble.
The man could not speak.
He had been away from people for so long that this simple interaction was turning out to be more difficult.
Words.
He had to speak words. His voice, halting and rough said,

"Anna, I... I have the scrolls I told you of so many years ago."

"Yes? I no longer have the others."


she answered. The man said,

"That is not my concern. I did say I would bring these to you, and I have done so."

"That was so many years ago Halasian. So many...


He stepped across the small room, and she turned around, knife in hand ready to defend herself.
He stopped in his tracks... not because of her knife, but because of what he sensed.
Her face was fair and still shined in the plain beauty she had in her youth. Yet her eyes were searching, unseeing.
She was blind.

"Anna?"

She turned and used the knife to remove the cake from the iron and let it turn. The aroma and sound filled the room as she turned again to the man.

"You see..."

She began to say, halting as she reached for the parchments.

"...I cannot read them."

Halasian nodded even as he looked about the room. He had not noticed the drawings that were hung everywhere.

"I still draw what I see, but seeing is not always done by the eyes."

She turned and took the cake from the iron and poured more batter on the iron. Setting the cake on a plate she sat it on the table.

"You eat. I have not shared a breakfast in some time."

Halasian sat and wasted no time eating. A smile came over her as he did, and he was half finished when she had another done. She sat and too started eating. He watched as she worked the fork. It had been some time since he had seen her. He had to ask,

"Anna, When did... how did..."

His words halted as his thoughts ran too fast. She carried them on...

"I come to have no sight? It was one morning in the winter last. Only a few in town got sick, and all but two recovered well. But I woke up the morning after the big snow and I could not see. A hobbit fellow in Staddle did not wake up that same morning. I knew him not, but talk was the cold breath of old was coming again, and it was feared the winter would be longer and colder than it has been in over two hundred years, awakened by the ill days of some years ago. But though these winter days were well colder than most winters here, it passed within a week. Yet I have yet to be able to see again, and the poor hobbit fellow was dead."

He stopped eating and watched her. She finished her cake. He asked her,

"Anna, what time of day is it?"

Early morning, for the birds have been singing for an hour."


She paused, then guessed what he was trying to get at. She went on,

"I can see lighter and darker, I just cannot see the images."

He wondered if she had any healer look at her eyes. There were few with any knowledge here in Bree, and the Rangers who know of these things he could not go to. What of the woman Morghan? She had not been seen or heard of by him since the dark days of 89. He knew not where to look for her, and her old cabin has been abandoned since... he was thinking when she said,

"I will be fine, I will safeguard the scrolls, and you will remain unseen. Uncle will be by to check on me soon, so if you wish him to not see you, I think your time here is short."

This was the longest he had stayed with Anna since before those dark days, and he could hear she was growing uneasy having him there. He stood and prepared to go, but she had stood and came around to him. Her hand felt his face and remembered. An aged face, worn with time and care she sensed. She nodded and turned away.

"Goodbye Anna. If I find more I will bring them to you..."

"No, we will not meet again old ranger. I could feel that when I touched you.... I had the same feeling when I last saw and ...touched my sister"


She stepped toward him and he toward her. Embracing long as good friends would, they lingered there for many moments. Then without words, she turned away and he turned and slipped out the door. Anna went to make new cakes to eat again with her uncle when he arrived, and he worked the shadows and made his way into the Chetwood and headed east in haste.


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