Morangmacar

Setting: This is a more canon character friendly shortfic, Tolkien's characters and only one OC. It is set when Aragorn is a young man, perhaps 21, so he knows who he is by now, but he's not the Dunedain chieftain yet. (2951, by my reading is when Elrond explained everything to him, and he became the chieftain of the Dunedain a few short years after that).

I also have Aragorn a little less skilled than he'll later be. The way I see it, he probably had a fair bit to learn about woodscraft, and though he'll later surpass all the other Rangers, I think it likely that he wasn't always the best at Ranger-ing.

Disclaimer: Don't own Lord of the Rings, never will, it all is Tolkien's. I am jes' playin' with it.

It was early evening in Eriador. The sun had started to dim and set, but there was still plenty of light for the little party to work by when they set up camp. It wasn't all that common for Lord Elrond to leave Imladris, he normally did so if only if there was a very good reason to travel, and this was one of those times.

Just a few days ago, Aragorn, son of Arathorn celebrated his twenty-first birthday. While the Elf Lord admitted that there any gift he could give the young man this year couldn't possibly rival what he gave him last year, when he revealed Estel's heritage and gave him two very fine old heirlooms.

Estel had been utterly awestruck by the news and gifts. To Elrond's eyes it seemed that the news at once overjoyed and overwhelmed him. To be an heir to a throne and a leader was an rare thing, but there was an awesome sense of responsibility tied to that as well. The man spent most of the day staring off into the distance with an odd half-smile on his face.

This year's gift was far more earthy: a hunting trip with Elrohir and Elladan, and Aragorn's cousin Halbarad, a man close to Estel's age who became fast friends with his future lord when they met a year ago. The hunting trip was nice enough, but Elrond sweetened it by coming along as well, though he demurred from joining the actual hunting. He hadn't handled a bow since Dagorlad, and he hadn't used it too well back then. He shuddered to think of how badly he would shoot if he did join the hunt.

Instead, he'd ended up staying in the camp, reading and drinking tea, and regaling the two young Dunedain with stories that Elrohir and Elladan had heard a hundred times before.

They traveled two or three days out of Rivendell, hunting along the way, and then came back a different way through a woodland, camping in the late afternoon so the hunters could set up camp and catch another chance at a deer before nightfall. This afternoon would be no different, or at least that was what the Elf lord thought.

To his surprise, Elrohir and Elladan pulled out a chess board and pieces from their packs and set it up on the ground. "Go on ahead, Halbarad, Estel. Elrohir and I have had our fill of the hunt for now, and I have to avenge last night's loss to my twin here before sunset." Elrohir moved his pawn forward

"Indeed." Elladan grinned. "Avenging your loss? Wasn't that what you said last night before we started that round?"

Halbarad and Estel took their swords, bows, and quivers, and cleared out of the camp before the twins started arguing in earnest. Elrond watched them go, and half-wished he could join them. Elladan and Elrohir were mature, seasoned warriors and valuable advisors, but they could still squabble like they were children over a few things. Unfortunately, chess was one of them.

Aragorn and Halbarad parted company just outside the camp. "I will see you at the camp, cousin. The one to pot the biggest stag gets his cleaned by the loser."

Halbarad grinned. "Aye, I like the sound of that, my lord, but I cannot help feeling a little guilty about making my future king skin out my kill. Don't get yourself lost in these woods, aran nin."

With that, the other man was gone, and Aragorn felt a twinge of jealousy. Elladan and Elrohir had trained him well in woodscraft, but Halbarad had spent his whole life in the wilds, and it showed.

He headed out his way into the woods, senses perked on high alert, eyes scanning for prey, and his step soft and slow. Running would frighten the prey, and may attract attention he didn't want.

There was something soothing about the woodlands here. There was a stillness that was unlike anything in Imladris, and the softest sound rang just loud enough for a trained ear to catch it. He could whisper of wind in the trees, the song of a little bird in the distance, and a very soft patter to his right. Hooves on the floor of the woods, just the sort of sound he'd being listening for.

He moved quietly towards it, his muscles tense, hands twitching in the excitement of the hunt. He turned when the creature moved, and kept stalking forward until he had it in sight. He moved past a big tree and froze.

There it was! It was one of the largest stags he'd seen on the trip, a big bodied beast with a magnificent set of horns and a gorgeous dark brown hide, and it was within bowshot and it hadn't seen him. Better still, the portion of the stag he'd always aimed for was in plain view.

He fitted an arrow to his string and slowly bent the bow, trying to make as little sound as possible. To his horror, the stag staggered, and a red, oddly barbed thing almost like a huge arrow head poked out just where he was aiming. The buck took a few steps, and fell dead.

That spear head...it was like nothing he'd ever seen Halbarad or any of the other Dunedain carry, nor was it Elven in design. The only time he'd seen anything like it was in a book about whalers off the coast of Eriador. They called that sort of spear a harpoon. What was a harpoon doing so far inland?

There was movement behind the dead stag. A very tall figure straightened from its throwing position and stepped forward into the little clearing, heading for the stag. It stopped halfway to the animal, and growled, looking about itself.

"Come out, ta--Ranger. I know ye're there, I can smell ye." The form threw its hood back, revealing harsh, weatherbeaten features. Its skin was a muddy brown, its forehead high.

Aragorn stared at it, a sick building in the pit of his stomach. The creature had a vaguely Orcish face, but there was also something man-like in it. It was undoubtedly a half breed, and the thought send a shudder of revulsion up and down his spine. Orcs were unnatural enough, but a half breed was even more perverse, because it meant some Orc had...

He shuddered again. He would not think about that. He wouldn't. He stepped out into the clearing and, eyes narrowed and a hand on his sword hilt. "You stole my stag, friend."

The half breed snorted. "Friend? Do'na lie to me, Ranger. You would'na call me friend and mean it, na' even if you parching to death in the plains of Morgai and I had the only cup'a water in all of the Black Land."

. "You are right, of course, but that doesn't change the fact that you are poaching. Your kind has little place in this world, and still less place in the old lands of my people."

He was close enough to see the creature's eyes now, odd green and red eyes that met his own orbs unflinchingly. "That may be, I do'na belong here, but I'm still here, and I need to eat. If ye want to fight over it, I suppose we could." A clawed hand reached over its shoulder to grab the hilt of a two handed sword, while another loosened the baldric so he could draw it.

Aragorn studied the creature again. He was of noble blood, of the line of kings, and strong of limb and quick of eye, but that litany didn't abate fact that his stomach was roiling again, this time from fear rather than disgust.

The beast was large, somewhat taller than him, taller than Lord Elrond, and massively built. The thing's hands were also huge, and Estel had the feeling that it could grab his head in one of them without too much difficulty.

None of Aragorn's titles and lineage could banish the fear in his gut, but the fear couldn't shake his resolve much either. He drew his longsword and stepped into his ready stance. "Agreed. Are you ready to die?"

The creature's lips twitched suddenly, and took his hand of the hilt of his weapon. "Today is your lucky day, 'friend.' Ye caught me at that rare time when fighting's the last thing I really want to do if I can help it.Even if I truly wanted to fight, I do'na think you'd be worth it much. When you're older maybe, but now you would'na last long, and there's no point in killing ye either. You and I both are'na fond of Orcs, and it'd make more sense to leave ye alive to thin them out."

He stepped back "Besides, I'd almost hate to best somone with spirit such as yours.You've a noble heart, Dunedan, but this deer is'na worth your life, or even mine. And before ye say it, yes, I know my life is na' worth much of anything." He stepped back. "I'll cut the spear out of it and let you have the body."

Aragorn kept his sword at the ready. This beast could be shamming, it might be waiting for him to drop his guard, but if it was unwilling to fight, then he saw no reason to push a conflict. He could always tell his Rangers to track it down later.

"You are a strange one, but keep your stag. I want nothing that Orc-steel's touched." The beast's shoulders stiffened, but the Dunedan forged on anyway. "I won't apologize for that, Man-Orc. It is the truth, and I'm not sorry to tell it. It would be a sorry thing for Aragorn, son of Arathorn to worry about what his enemies thought of him."

That brought a change in the creature's posture. Its eyes shot back from the stag to him. "Ye should'na be telling that to an enemy, Lord Aragorn, it'll just make them more eager to kill ye. But since ye gave me your name, I'll give you mine. I am Claideb, son of...well, that's na important now is it? The folk of Imladris call me the Morangmacar."

Morangmacar? Aragorn paused, torn between springing at the beast and looking for a way out of this mess. He forced a bravado into his voice that he didn't really feel and stepped forward.

"Morangmacar? That's all the more reason to end you. You're a threat to Imladris and..."

Morangmacar just snorted and pulled the harpoon out by its head, dragging the shaft through the deer and making an awful mess. "Try it, and ye'll be sorry, kingling. In fifty or sixty years, you might be a real caution, and I'd be a fool to na' step more softly around ye then. But that's the future, and this is now, and I'll box your ears if ye take another step. The deer's yours. Do with it what you will, I have no interest in being anywhere near your camp. Ye'll tell everyone that you saw me, and I'll be hunted seven ways from sunset if I stay here. No, I am heading out now."

He took the spear and darted off into the woods. Aragorn watched him go and stepped towards the stag. It was true that he wanted little to do with anything an Orc had killed, but, on the other hand, there was no point in leaving a beautiful trophy like this out to rot. Killing senselessly was an Orc's way, and if he could at least make some use of it, so much the better.

With a grunt, he hoisted it over his shoulders and staggered off through the woods back to camp. He was more than a little annoyed with himself for not doing the kingly thing, that he hadn't pursued and killed the beast, but at least this would make a good story at the campfire.

He would definitely tell Halbarad to send word to their people to start hunting for the beast. His cousin had a carrier pigeon in the camp, so they could have the news out soon enough. He shifted the weight on his shoulders and allowed himself a small smile. He may not have actually killed the deer, but he was certainly bringing a large one back to camp. There was a chance he could just win this bet.

A/N:

Mn. Young Aragorn is not the easiest character to write. I wanted to keep some elements of his nobility and courage in there while making this all believable. He's only twenty one, not in his eighties like in the trilogy, so he shouldn't be expected to be quite as brave or skilled as he is in the trilogy.

At the same time, there needs to be a hint of what he will become, and I hope I've done that properly. Halbarad isn't really easy to write either, but that's because we know so little about him. I would think he and Aragorn would be good friends, though, and they may have even had a friendly byplay to some extent.

Also, Aragorn isn't humorless, so I wanted to put something of that in, although there is little here for his sense of humor to work with. (Him being light-spirited around a Half-Orc would make 0 sense)

As for Morangmacar/Claideb: his size is an issue. Regular Orcs are smaller than men, but both his parents were large, one was a Black Numenorean (hence his character making sense mostly in an AU), and the other a very big Orc, and you have hybrid vigor on his side, so that could explain things.

He's a pretty violent character, but as he said, he has days where he's not as eager to kill.

Anyway, there we go.