~*~*~ A/N: I just realized this, it sure took me long enough: Here's the Second Blackthorne Chronicle. I really hope it measures up to the first which, in my opinion, was my best fic ever. Peter Jackson, if you're not busy, I need to talk to you about turning that fic into a movie! Kae? Kae. *~*~*~*~
The young man, merely 21 years of age, knelt before his father, his head bowed in honor and reverence. Pargilius, the father, smiled gently down at his son.
"You have called me father?" the young man asked.
"Aye, my son," replied Pargilius. "For this is a grave matter indeed."
"What is it, my father?"
"Jilikius, I grow old, weak, and you grow stout of heart and of body."
Jilikius nodded slightly, knowing well what was to come. His destiny.
Pargilius removed from his sheath a sword; long, broad, and almost glimmering in the soft sunshine of the forest, several miles outside the village of Bree.
"Here, son Jilikius, I pass the sword of the Blackthorne to you. May it strike deep and true." Gently, Pargilius placed the hilt of the sword into his son's hands.
Jilikius' eyes widened as he felt the weight of the sword in his hands, almost weighing him down. Slowly, the cool metal began to heat in his grasp, and he watched as a soft golden glow spewed forth from the sword, as though it were a star.
"My father," Jilikius started, but his father shook his head.
"I am sickened, Jilikius," said Pargilius with a grim frown. "I haven't much time left, for my life has been long, and full of wear. Leave me now to the forest; I called you here, to this spot, for this is the place that I left my father."
Jilikius stood, looking upon his father with sadness.
"Live well, son," Pargilius said, a soft smile across his thin lips.
"Die well, father," Jilikius replied and, with a deep bow, turned, leaving his father.
Jilikius reached the village of Bree as the sun set that evening, meeting the gate-keeper with a grim nod. The keeper returned the nod, allowing Jilikius to pass through. Entering the village, Jilikius was met with stares and whispers. A Blackthorne, people saw, was among them, and they were surprised and shocked. It was not customary for Blackthornes to enter villages often; they were a people of the wilderness.
Jilikius approached The Prancing Pony, an inn in the village. He entered, glancing about. There were several dwarves, and plenty of men. Jilikius took a mug from the bartender, a stout fellow by the name of Butterbur. Sitting at a table, he began to think, but was interrupted by a voice.
"Jilikius Blackthorne," came the husky voice behind him, and he turned, looking upon a man, about the same age as he.
"Aye," Jilikius responded, regarding the man with suspicion.
"I was sent here to retrieve you," the man continued, sitting by Jilikius' side. "There is a war, by the shores of the Anduin."
"Orcs?" asked Jilikius, and the man nodded. "Very well, we shall depart soon."
The man laughed. "My friend, no need for haste. For I know my journey has been long. We will rest here tonight, and speak of many things."
Jilikius smiled, and nodded.
"Friend, may I ask, what is your name?"
"You may call me Strider," the man replied, and Jilikius nodded, shaking the man's hand.
"Strider, then, well met."
"Indeed."
~*~*~ A/N: And so continues the Legacy of the Blackthorne. Actually, this is about Loriana's dad, so it's kinna a prequel. Same dif. *~*~*~
The young man, merely 21 years of age, knelt before his father, his head bowed in honor and reverence. Pargilius, the father, smiled gently down at his son.
"You have called me father?" the young man asked.
"Aye, my son," replied Pargilius. "For this is a grave matter indeed."
"What is it, my father?"
"Jilikius, I grow old, weak, and you grow stout of heart and of body."
Jilikius nodded slightly, knowing well what was to come. His destiny.
Pargilius removed from his sheath a sword; long, broad, and almost glimmering in the soft sunshine of the forest, several miles outside the village of Bree.
"Here, son Jilikius, I pass the sword of the Blackthorne to you. May it strike deep and true." Gently, Pargilius placed the hilt of the sword into his son's hands.
Jilikius' eyes widened as he felt the weight of the sword in his hands, almost weighing him down. Slowly, the cool metal began to heat in his grasp, and he watched as a soft golden glow spewed forth from the sword, as though it were a star.
"My father," Jilikius started, but his father shook his head.
"I am sickened, Jilikius," said Pargilius with a grim frown. "I haven't much time left, for my life has been long, and full of wear. Leave me now to the forest; I called you here, to this spot, for this is the place that I left my father."
Jilikius stood, looking upon his father with sadness.
"Live well, son," Pargilius said, a soft smile across his thin lips.
"Die well, father," Jilikius replied and, with a deep bow, turned, leaving his father.
Jilikius reached the village of Bree as the sun set that evening, meeting the gate-keeper with a grim nod. The keeper returned the nod, allowing Jilikius to pass through. Entering the village, Jilikius was met with stares and whispers. A Blackthorne, people saw, was among them, and they were surprised and shocked. It was not customary for Blackthornes to enter villages often; they were a people of the wilderness.
Jilikius approached The Prancing Pony, an inn in the village. He entered, glancing about. There were several dwarves, and plenty of men. Jilikius took a mug from the bartender, a stout fellow by the name of Butterbur. Sitting at a table, he began to think, but was interrupted by a voice.
"Jilikius Blackthorne," came the husky voice behind him, and he turned, looking upon a man, about the same age as he.
"Aye," Jilikius responded, regarding the man with suspicion.
"I was sent here to retrieve you," the man continued, sitting by Jilikius' side. "There is a war, by the shores of the Anduin."
"Orcs?" asked Jilikius, and the man nodded. "Very well, we shall depart soon."
The man laughed. "My friend, no need for haste. For I know my journey has been long. We will rest here tonight, and speak of many things."
Jilikius smiled, and nodded.
"Friend, may I ask, what is your name?"
"You may call me Strider," the man replied, and Jilikius nodded, shaking the man's hand.
"Strider, then, well met."
"Indeed."
~*~*~ A/N: And so continues the Legacy of the Blackthorne. Actually, this is about Loriana's dad, so it's kinna a prequel. Same dif. *~*~*~