AN: Hullo. My name is My. Flinstone and this is my story "The Ranger". I know, a bit cliche of a title. But please give it a chance, I think you might like it. Chapters will most likely be uploaded three at a time. That way you'll have plenty of stuff to read (assuming you like the book). I tried my best to stick to Tolkien's style of writing the best I could to try and make the story as similar to Lord of the Rings as possible. And if you do like it, please leave a review or two on your way out. It's no use for me to put time and effort into something people don't even like. Constructive criticism is appreciated. That really sums up all I want to say so all that's left is I hope you like the story.
Yours Sincerley
~ Mr Flinstone
Chapter 1: A Burning Ship
The dark, icy water slowly crept from it's roots onto a youthful face covered in dirt and blood. Pieces of wood and clothes floated aimlessly around the ocean behind him, along with other items. Further out the scarce image of what used to be a magnificent vessel now had been torn apart. The young man's eyes twitched as he groaned just barely above a whispers. He would lay where he was for a few more minutes, working up the strength to lift himself up from his embedded place. He turned himself upon his back and looked about his surroundings with curiosity. It was a rocky coastline, with walls of stone that stretched around the dark water at small length that created a gulf. The brisk air mad the wet soil of this place hard yet slippery at the same time, he realized as he ran his hand through it. He went on his knees and crawled over to a minuscule field of grass not far away and rested his head there.
He was greatly dehydrated and very hungry. Dripping wet from head to toe, he knew that he didn't have long to find warmth. Instantly he became painfully aware of a shooting pain in his left leg. He leaned forward and saw that it had been cut very deeply and would need attention quick. But that was the least of his troubles. He was cold, so very cold. He needed warmth badly, but he had no way of finding it. It was becoming difficult to breathe now, and he knew it wouldn't be long that he would even be able to. Sound became a fuzzy, humming sound. Sight became blurred. The only thing that kept him awake was the sound of a pounding of the earth. It was a quick, steady beat. And there was more than once of them.
In the distance he could see a hazy image of two figures, running towards him, at great speed. He fought to keep himself from closing his deep brown eyes, long enough for the figures to reach him. One of them knelled down and put a cloak around the young man.
Although it wasn't much, the cloak did help him. Although he couldn't make out the words, he could hear them muttering somehing to him. He listened and tried to make them out, but could not. Breathing was now harder than ever. He choked as he gripped the wet grass underneath his fingertips. The men were now panicking, the young man could tell, barely, for the color of the world was fading from his vision.
The men were shouting something to him, but he could still not make it out. With his strength fading he used the last of it to choke out one word, knowing that it might be his last.
"Bran" he gulped.
After that the world went dark.
