Hey, everyone! I hope you all enjoy this story! I'll be updating Before the Ring (formerly Sméagol) and More Crazy Things soon, so don't fret! I haven't forgotten them! I know I said that my next OC would be Butterbur's neice, but I tohught this would be more interesting.
I'm not sure if anyone has ever done a story like this one before, about the Wild Men that Tolkien describes in the books. It is my hope that it will be unique and very good.
Chapter One:
Faeridae grabbed acorn after acorn, putting them into her rucksack, and looked over at her sister, Tacoma, who was nearby, gathering as well. Tacoma's sack was twice as full as Faeridae's, it's coarse fibers bulging from the weight.
Tacoma's mouth was pressed in a thin line, her face taking in the grimness of it all.
Where had all the acorns gone? They were a food staple for their people, roasted and pounded into flour, and this year had been an especially scarce growing season for them.
"Abundance has left us." Faeridae said, and Tacoma shook her head.
"It is the First Born, Faeridae. There are leaving these shores, little by little. The Wood-dwellers have gone, and the trees are mourning their loss."
Faeridae nodded.
She leaned against the rough bark of one of the old, gnarled oaks, and she could almost feel the pain of the tree.
She ran her hand over the bark, caressing it.
"You miss them, don't you, Grandfather?" she asked, using the word 'grandfather' as a sign of respect towards the oak. It was he that helped give life to the village, after all.
The departure of the First Born, the elves, unsettled her. What were they fleeing? Sickness? War? Were the First Born's gods going to destroy all of Feadarda, all of Middle-earth?
"Come." Tacoma beckoned her, and they started back for the village. "We can be of better use elsewhere."
Faeridae nodded, and the two walked out of the forest and to their village.
The village, although Faeridae was used to it, still took her breath away when she saw it.
It was little more than a collection of cone-shaped tents, made from deer hides stretched over tall lodge poles, but the center of the village was what astounded her.
In the middle of all the tents was a mound of grass-covered earth that was taller than any of the trees in the forest. It had been built by hand, by the ancestors of the People, who had carried earth, handful by handful, to form the immense mound.
It was shaped like a square prism, with sloping sides. Steps had been carved into one side of it, so their priest, Igashu, could climb to the top and communicate with the heavens.
The insides of the mound was a tomb, used to shroud the bodies of their dead chieftains, so that they could be with the People, always.
Curls of grey smoke funneled out of the tents and into the fading sky; the women had begun the cook-fires for evening meal already.
They entered their family's tent, which was marked by a painted eagle on their tent flap; the eagle was the symbol of their clan.
They sat their bags down, and went to the center of the tent, where their mother was stirring acorn porridge over the fire.
"Anon ha, Mura." Faeridae greeted her, kissing her cheek, and Tacoma did the same.
"Greetings, Mother."
Their mother looked up at them both, her face red from the steam coming off of the porridge, then glanced to where they'd set their bags.
"Those two bags were all you two could find?"
They nodded, solemnly.
Mura made an unhappy clicking sound under her breath.
"Ardmura bless us." she said, holding out her pious hands to the sky, as if pleading to Earth Mother why she had not made her trees produce more food.
"At least we have deer meat, and the Rangers will be coming soon. We can trade with them for provisions." Tacoma said, always one to look on the bright side.
Mura nodded, her worried eyes darting over to Faeridae, who immediately felt guilty for her pale skin, and her strange hair and eyes.
She had not been born into the tribe, like her sister, but had been adopted by the People when she was still a child.
Faeridae didn't remember much about her life before coming into the tribe, but she did remember the fire that had occurred in her town before she went to live with her new family. It had been large, terrifying, and so, so hot.
She still had scars on her feet and legs from being burned.
She loved her tribe, and her family, now; they'd saved her life, and had made her one of their own.
Faeridae had been taken to replace Mura's other daughter, who had died of a fever, and had taken her place, even her name. She had been renamed Faeridae by her new family, since she could not remember the name she'd had before she'd come into the tribe, and she didn't care. She was happy with her life, and was only distraught over the trouble her looks caused her family.
When the traders came, she had to hide from them. Her white skin and brown hair marked her. They would know that she'd been taken from the white village, and they'd take her away from them.
Mura was terrified at this prospect, and frankly, so was Faeridae. She knew that she had no place among the whites, with their strange customs. Even their language was strange to her.
Years of disuse had made her forget her mother tongue, besides a few snatches of language here and there.
The tent flap opened, and her brothers and father entered, the smell of blood still clinging about them.
"Was your hunt successful?" Mura asked them, and her father nodded.
"We took three does today."
A bit of the weight came off of the women's shoulders at the news. Perhaps they wouldn't starve, after all, if the Rangers came before the first snow of winter.
Her mother ladled porridge into clay bowls, and handed them to her sons and husband, then served her daughters, then herself. They ate together in silence, enjoying one another's company.
The meal was uneventful until, his hunger sated, her father leaned back onto his bed of hides and beckoned Faeridae over.
He held her cheek in his hand, smiling into her face.
"You have grown into a woman, overnight, it seems." he said, and Faeridae's stomach turned over.
He'd said the same thing to Tacoma last spring, when he'd revealed that he'd made an engagement agreement for her with Etu, son of the Bear Clan.
Who did he have in mind for Faeridae?
"Sahale, of the Otter Clan, has asked after your hand."
Sahale? Her friend, Sahale had asked after her, and her father was considering letting him wed her?
Well, it could be worse. She thought. At least she knew that she could get along with Sahale.
"It seems a good match, father." she replied, quietly, not wanting to appear too eager, or disappointed.
Her father nodded. "I think so, as well. Sahale is a good warrior, and he will be able to provide for you. Otters and Eagles have always existed in the old legends in harmony. This is a good match."
He leaned back, done speaking, and her mother brought him his pipe, which he puffed on with calm reverence, closing his eyes and savoring the blue smoke.
Her two brothers looked over and she could see the smirks on their faces. No doubt they'd tease her, once they were away from their parents.
Tacoma grabbed her hand, smiling.
She felt that Sahale would do right by her sister, and she could always do worse, after all.
"You will be happy, sister." Tacoma said, and Faeridae nodded.
"Yes. It is a good match." she said, still unsure about how she felt about the union.
~Break~
Tacoma and Faeridae were walking towards the camp, when they saw horses tied to the trees around the village.
Rangers!
"Go, Faeridae!" Tacoma said, shoving her sister into some nearby bushes.
"I'll be at the creek, Tacoma." Faeridae whispered.
"I will get you when they are gone." Tacoma said, and Faeridae made her way to the creek, which was far enough away from the village to be concealed from the white traders, but not so far away that she'd be in danger of wild animals.
She was glad to have her dagger at her belt, and her quiver and bow slung over her shoulder, just in case.
She sat down on the creek bed, idly tossing stones into the water, when she saw movement on the opposite bank.
She drew her bow, and aimed it at the interloper, a Ranger with brown hair and grey eyes. He'd seen her! Her heart pounded. She refused to be taken, even if she had to kill this man.
He put up his hands, in a sign of surrender, but she kept her arrow trained on him.
"I mean you no harm." he said, in Common Tongue.
The words were strange, yet familiar, and she felt she understood them…almost.
"Do you speak my language?" she asked, in the guttural speech of her People, and was surprised when he nodded, and repeated,
"I mean you no harm." He said, in the language of her People.
"Who are you? Why are you not with the others, at the Village?"
"I was looking for solace." he said, his hands still up. "I like being alone, sometimes."
Faeridae lowered her bow.
This Ranger may seem odd, but she felt that he meant no harm. He carried himself with a different air than other whites she had spied on. He seemed taller, more regal, more experienced, somehow.
"How old were you when you were taken?" he asked her, and she drew her bow again.
"I will not leave this place!" she said through gritted teeth.
"I will not make you." he said, gently.
"How can I trust you?"
"I too, was raised by an adopted family. Elves." the Ranger explained.
"The First Born?"
Faeridae lowered her bow, her curiosity peaked. Perhaps this was why the man seemed so strange.
"Aye. And I can see what it would do to you to be removed from your People. They are your people now, after all."
Faeridae nodded.
"I cannot even speak in Common." she said, stiffening a bit with distrust as the Ranger crossed the creek and sat at her feet, gesturing for her to do the same.
She sat, cautiously, on a stone, her hand on her dagger, her eyes on the sword that hung at her side.
"Not a bit?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I forgot." she said, simply.
His grey eyes studied her intently, and she felt awkward under his prying gaze.
He took in every detail of the woman's apparel, from her dress made of white deer hides, to her moccasin-clad feet, to her brown hair, braided in the custom of the tribe, and her necklace, made from beads of dyed bone, strung together by a strip of thinly rolled leather. Her exposed legs showed off deep scarring, swirling around the girl's calves, tongues of flame carved into her flesh forever. These scars, however, did not retract from her beauty.
Her eyes were bright green, giving her an exotic quality, and she was tiny, built more like her own ancestors than the tall, thick-boned Wild Men.
"You are hiding from the others, I take it?" he asked, and she nodded.
"They might tell the other whites." she said.
"Your secret is safe with me." he said, smiling, and offered her his hand to shake.
She stared at his extended hand, mesmerized by the foreign nature of it, his pale skin, his dark hair that dusted his knuckles, the fingerless gloves woven of soft cotton, the calloused fingers of a swordsman, the nails cracked from use and lined with dirt.
She was accustomed to smooth, hairless hands of bronze, not to mention that she was unfamiliar with whatever gesture he was offering to her.
"It's called 'shaking hands'." he said, carefully placing her hand into his own, and showing her the up-and-down motion that accompanied the grasping of hands.
"It's how whites say hello." he said.
She drew back her hand, sitting it on her lap, away from him.
"I was eight summers when they found me." she said, relaying the story that she had no first-hand memory of. Mura had described it many times, but, like her other childhood memories, being found by the Wild Men was shrouded with a hazy veil.
"I was in the forest, next to a town which had been pillaged and burned by orcs. They found me, and I replaced someone's child. I have lived with my family ever since."
The Ranger nodded, thoughtfully taking in her story.
"You have been through much." he said, finally.
"Too much to lose what I have gained." she said, still doubtful that she'd be safe from his people.
He seemed to understand her meaning, and he bowed his head to her, touching his brow with the tips of his first and second fingers, a gesture of loyalty she'd seen the Wood-dwellers use before.
"I swear upon my honor that I will not reveal your presence to society, Lady."
"Good." she replied, wondering when Tacoma would come to fetch her. This Ranger, friendly though he seemed, was still white, after all. How could she trust him?
"Can I know your name?"
"If you give me yours." she said, and he smiled.
"Estel." he said. "Or Strider, if you prefer."
"I like Estel better." she said, her grip on her dagger's hilt loosening.
"I am Faeridae." she said, and she knew that somehow, this meeting would directly effect her fate.
Something different. Do you like it? Should I continue?
