To be a Ranger
Disclaimer: I don't own the Lord of the Rings or any of its characters.
I
The year 2990 of the Third Age began without much celebration, at least in the realm of Gondor. As the years passed, all its inhabitants felt a touch of shadow that lingered ever out of the grasp of conscious thought. For they were always aware of the fact that they lived under the watchful presence of Mordor. And when evil finally began to stir anew in Middle-Earth, there were none more hard-pressed than the brave men of Minas Tirith.
But the days were slowly worsening. As reports flew in about the ever-increasing number of orcs active in the Mountains of Shadow, the growing number of raids and attacks on the coasts by Corsairs, and other disturbing Easterling and Southron activities, the Ruling Stewards of Gondor felt their kingdom slowly, ever slowly, being beaten down. Each new day brought fresh orc hordes that had to be repelled. And each new day brought more and more wounded Gondorian soldiers streaming into the encampments.
The year 2990 began without much celebration. It was the sixth year of the rule of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor, the second year after the death of his beloved wife Finduilas. The passing of Finduilas left the Steward a changed man, and not for the better. His demeanor became bitter, his speech quick and biting. Yet, by all the men who served him and all those who beheld him, the Lord Denethor became more kingly in appearance and more piercing in gaze. He saw and heard much, both within his realm and in the hearts of men. His beloved first son Boromir was pushing the age of 12, already a showing signs of becoming an outstanding warrior and captain.
Of his second son Faramir, Denethor loved little, often scorning the gentle and peace-loving boy. Perhaps it was because Faramir reminded Denethor too much of his passed wife, or even that Faramir was much like his father, already at a young age having a thirst for knowledge and lore. But these two sons of Gondor would soon play a pivotal role in the coming years, regardless of what their father saw in them, even as they frolicked and ran through the streets of Minas Tirith.
The year 2990 began without much celebration. The winter had been especially hard this year and in particular the villages near the Ash Mountains in Gondor's eastern territories and in nearby Ithilien, though the people there were now few in number. For it has been many years since any layman of Gondor has passed east of the great Anduin, most having already evacuated the region. The year before had plagued Gondor with an especially brutal series of orc raids and skirmishes as far as the Harad Road.
But then, what can Men really do? They're no seers and they take each day as it is, living out their lives and trying the best to ensure the livelihoods of their families. And so the days pass on, blending together without much discernment between this day and the next. Tales and news from far off lands concerned the Gondorians little, for their plight was in the here and now. And unless dire messages should come from their allies in Rohan, the men of Minas Tirith went along their own business, deeming justly that the threat from the Nameless One in far off Mount Doom was more perilous than all others.
Indeed, the year 2990 began without much celebration. But to one family in the hidden village of Kerac in Ithilien, New Year's Day symbolized a new blessing as a baby boy was brought into the world. Kerac was one of the last villages left populated in Ithilien, only 5 miles east of the hidden refuge of Henneth Annun. None of the servants of Sauron had ever set foot or laid eyes on it. And so in their small world, the villagers went on with their lives, farming the land and looking after their own.
And though none knew it at the time, the year 2990 would soon become a year much heralded and renowned in the future. And it was all due to the birth of this child. The villagers of Kerac were simple folk, so why should this particular child be any different? Yet, fate had other plans in store. Even as the shadow continued to lengthen, the boy grew more and more in body and mind. For fate is a fickle thing. In the eyes of many, it takes a great power and mind to match the evil that comes from Sauron and they all turn their attentions onto such people as the Elves and lords of Men. But narrow-mindedness has always been the bane of life. For it is the common folk, the everyday deeds of regular men and women, that truly keeps the darkness at bay. Great lords may sit in their high towers and debate, but at the end of the day, the valor of the common people is what truly holds through. And for this one particular child, great deeds and pain awaits.
Yes, the year 2990 began without much celebration. And it is just how the world works at times. But years into the future, the people of Gondor would look back and think of the year 2990 and thank Elbereth and Eru himself what a true blessing it was.