Hi this is EasilySwayed with my first Lord of the Rings fanfic. I appreciate constructive criticism but no flames (they will be used to light my fire place).
A hearty thanks and shout out to my beta Anne McSommers...
Disclaimer: I do no under any circumstance own LOTR. I do however own my characters.
Fire in the Man:
Gondor had always lived in the shadow of Mordor. Countless lives had been lost protecting its borders. It had once been a proud city but over the ages it had crumbled. Kings built tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, name of their forefathers became more important than the names of their sons. Gondor's rule was given over to lesser men. But still the people guarded their country in a fading hope that the White Tree would blossom again.
Devorin wasn't a soldier of high rank. A simple duty with a simple code. "Honor the Valar, love your women, and defend your country." That was what his father had always told him and he intended to follow it to his death. He remembered the day he kneeled down and pledged his loyalty to Gondor and Lord Denethor. After being deployed to Osgilith he realized that his loyalty along with the other men belonged to Lord Faramir.
Being a street rat Devorin was used to hiding, blending in and being quiet. Captain Faramir had seen qualities and had him enlisted in the Ranger Corp. The day he was assigned out shone the day he became a soldier of Gondor. He Devorin, originally a street rat of Minas Tirith, was following in the footsteps of the Dunedin of the North.
While he wasn't like his friend Anborn who served under Captain Boromir he still held enormous pride at being one of the few who could provide news to eager soldiers. With orcs raids being pushed back Devorin felt like a glorious soldier and Gondor and invincible city. But times were changing. The darkness of Mordor spread again and once youthful and the joyful soldiers hardened and turned grim. With every battle more and more soldiers fell and along with them the sense of immortality. Shifts were doubled and the months grew long.
With Captain Boromir gone, the men turned to Faramir for leadership. Pressure from his father and the heavy responsibility of caring for Osgilith and Ithilien was wearing him down and Devorin was helpless to elevate some of the burden. He wasn't particularly close to Faramir but all the men felt that it was their responsibility to help their captain as much as possible.
The steady dripping of the water in the cave soothed Devorin. He nursed a small bowl of soup as he waited for…. something to happen. Times were so unsure.
He reflected on his earlier days of service. Drunk on the uplifting sense of pride and youthfulness he thought himself great, untouchable. Oh how life had proven him wrong. Reality had been a harsh slap to the face when Anborn had been felled by orc arrows. Still he persevered, followed his captain into battle and lived by his code. "Honor the Valar, love your women, and defend your country."
He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of running.
"Devorin! Captain Faramir has called the men to Ithilien, Eastern men have been sighted."
Without pausing, the messenger ran again calling all the other men. Devorin slung his quiver on his shoulder, buckled his sword, and ran out the room bow at hand,
Barely daring to breath he hid in the foliage waiting for the unsuspecting Eastern men to come within range. A bird's call sounded out and arrows were knocked. Devorin breathed evenly waiting, waiting…. another call. He drew and fired.