Guardians Three
Authors note: I'd like to introduce each character before I really get the story started, that way it will be easier describing their personalities when we're trying to move along with a story line. I'd appreciate any reviews or emails on what you thought. Enjoy…
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien came up with (I only wish I did) but I do hold some right to my characters (Tarin, Rowen, and Caiden). If you wish to use them, please ask. And now…On with the story!
The girl stepped out of the butchers shop, basket in tow, her blond curls bobbing as she walked. He smiled as he watched her come by. She turned to him, smiling, her face lighting up. He put down the brush he was holding and with an intake of breath, strode out to her. She blushed and her eyes turned down, but she still muttered a greeting. "G' morning Anne, would you, uh, care for a walk later today? I, I know I wonderful spot in the forest." With this, the boy smiled eagerly, his eyes searching her face for a positive answer. "Aye, that might be nice, though I will have chores till later." She spoke softly, he strained to hear. "At four then? G' day m' lady, I'd best get back to my work," His arm was shaking a bit now with excitement and he smiled once more before running back to the stables. Nothing was going to be able to take the smile off his face…
The pounding of the blacksmiths hammer brought him out of his daydream. Tarin glanced over to where the noise was coming from before looking back at the work left to do. Three more horses to shoe and brush, then he'd have to take at least another two out for training. One had never been broken in yet, so keeping a saddle on him was going to be the most of his worries, much less attempting to get atop. He sighed, and a movement from the building across the street caught his eye. Anne stepped out of the shop and was quickly followed by two other girls, all laughing and whispering to each other. A moment later they had passed by, without as much as a glance from any. Tarin raised an eyebrow, sighed, and turned to open the next stall. He put the girls image out of his mind and turned back to his work, the Shire moving to the back of the stall.
"Oh, no you don't," He reached up to its head and drew it around to his. "You've still got work to do today and I am not going to be here from a week or so; this will be the only good run you'll get till I'm home." The horse snorted and Tarin reached for the lead rope he had set on the stall earlier.
His sleeves had been pulled up to his elbows, the swirling ink on his arms looking more like vines in the dark than dragons. It had been some time since he had even took much notice of the tattoo, the letters that were woven though the body had faded, whether from loss of skin or time he wasn't quite sure. For a moment his mind wandered back to the day he had first met the others. Perhaps barely ten years of age, he had only heard legends of the Guardians; those who protected the people from harm. To him they were as untouchable as the Gods. Snorting, he smiled slightly; remember how soon he had lost that ideal. Though excellent fighters, they had found themselves wounded more often then anyone he could ever remember. The old tales spoke of the three; each with different charges they were determined to protect, traveling though Middle-Earth with a vigilant eye on most everything. He had always pictured them as riding knights, silver armor gleaming and swords drawn, racing into battle with all the presence of saints. But the night they had come to town, he seemed drawn to them anyway, even though they were dressed in simple tunics of brown and grey, along with dark midnight cloaks. There was an air about them he decided, one that commanded respect, but also a sense of peace that surrounded the area. He had heard the stories long ago that told if a guardian should die, the remaining, whether one or two would search out another to take the place, usually someone quite young who could be easily trained, in both battle tactics and in language. The guardians had their own tongue, neither quite elvish nor common, dwarfish, or sprite. It seemed to be a mixture of all, as they were meshed together.
Tarin could still remember the elf and man who stood in the square asking if there was any who wished to present themselves. The man stood not much higher than perhaps his father, who was only a bit taller than five feet. His face was clean shaven and conceivably handsome, were it not so hardened; though his arms rested easily by his side there was still a sense of tension in them. His brown tunic came to his thighs, with almost a silvery set of breeches that fit loosely around his legs and billowed slightly where his knee high boots met. His brown hair was tied back neatly in a small braid that rested on top his shoulder. The elf was a quite different sight to see. He had seen several elves before from his adventure into the forests beyond the town, but there was something quite different of this one. He had known there were different types of elves, but never one as this. She stood quite tall, perhaps six feet or so, but her hair was almost a silver white, not at all like the fair golden blonds he had seen in the forest. She had it knotted and twisted to set against her head, a few stray sprigs falling from the back. Her tunic shone a deep green while almost a silvery leggings shone from underneath. Wearing almost the same boots as the other, they clasped at her knees. Neither wore bracers and though it was beginning to darken, it was easy to see the dark dragons that twisted around their arms from their elbows to their wrists. A small bit of writing was woven in as well but it was in a language he had never quite seen. It was only until the man had caught his eye that he suddenly jumped, realizing that he had been staring at the two. Raising an eye, he had asked to see what the boy could do. Tarin remembered his heart jumping to his throat, and shaking, reached for the wooden stick the man held out.
By now, several men had brought their sons forward, some who seemed too frightened to even speak. He knew even back then what it meant to be a guardian. It was a great honor to be chosen, although it came at its price. Life was often shortened, and even he knew some where not brought into this world to fight and defend, but to live and do the simpler tasks. His father had raised the geese in the village since he was but a boy and now herding them from one field to another was passed on to his son. He would never have thought his son would be determined as acceptable for a Guardian. Tarin had only been sitting in the square watching as boys showed their best efforts on swords and answered questions, not willing to show himself a fool by attempting to fight. He had attacked trees and invisible bandits, defending the geese from the air and bushes that surrounded them, though he suspected that they rarely were grateful. Grasping it in his hands, it slipped slightly from the sweat but he had little time to adjust, as another wooden sword met his from the side and he jumped, shocked that something was happening. Again and again he found himself fending off light but quick blows coming towards his head and sides, only missing when the other brought it into his stomach several times. The man straightened and Tarin glanced at the elf who was doing something similar with another boy, perhaps thirteen. The man smiled, and asked his name and then began speaking to the other who turned about then looked down at him, as if searching him over. By now, several of the boys had left and Tarin could see that the small event was coming to its end. Turning to go, he was held back, a hand firmly on his shoulder. He looked up to see the elf, bending down.
"You seem to be an able fighter for your age, child. Wherever did you learn? "A half smile played on her lips. Uncertain if she was jesting or truly asking, he sputtered, "I only play…hitting trees and keeping the dogs from the geese." He managed a sigh, more from embarrassment than nervousness. Again the two spoke, the words seemingly jumbled and smooth at the same time. He tried one on his lips, his tongue moving clumsily. By now both looked down to him, the man finally spoke.
"Perhaps we could meet with your family, boy?" Tarin shook, thinking of what was happening. Were they truly serious about him, a simple goose herder? He had never thought to see him self leaving except in his dreams, and certainly not to fight and defend. These were warriors, not…well, not like him at all. Shocked for a moment into silence, the elf looked eagerly at him, raising her brow with a touch of interest.
"Do you mean…now," his voice shook before half whispering the last word. Of course they meant now, he thought. "I, eh, yes, we can go…now I mean."
He turned suddenly around and drawing in a deep breath, took swift but determined steps to the far end of town. He turned once, several houses from his own to see if they had even followed; their footsteps silent. His heart was still beating heavily, almost as if afraid and he willed himself to calm down, taking several breaths and unclenching his hands. It took him until now to realize he still was clutching the wooden branch he had used as his sword. As he reached the door, he could hear his mother hanging the pots onto the wall, a small ringing and clatter from other dishes as he was sure they fell into the wash bin. He reached for the door and pushed it open, the others stepping into the small room confidently. His father looked up with a flash of fear at first, before gazing down at his only son.
"Has…Has there been a problem?" He asked warily, but was quickly put to ease as the man explained the events in the town square. Tarin's mother held onto a dishrag, a look of confusion and slight fright. She was never one to speak to strangers, and he could tell already that she wanted her son to have little to do with them. Turning back to his father, Tarin could see more amazement than anything, even a smile was on his face. Remembering that this was an honor, Tarin straightened, attempting to look noble, though he felt nothing close to this.
His mind raced with thousands of questions. What's going to happen now? Am I leaving here? But for how long? Where would I go? What if I am not a good fighter…will I die?
"Then it is settled," His father stood, clasping the two Guardians hands, and jolting Tarin from his mind. What was settled?! His mother looked as if to cry, but she held her tongue, he hands shaking the towel.
"He will not be gone forever," he heard the elf say, attempting to ease the women. "He will learn many skills, and he will make you proud to be his mother. He will be very great some day; he will save lives." She spoke so assuredly that even Tarin began to believe her. He nodded to his mother, showing that he was not afraid of the days to come, though he still felt as if his world was crashing in on him. His fear not mixed his anxiousness, and he now turned to look at the man how was still speaking with him father. The two were speaking of a town called Enderlen, perhaps a week's ride from here. The two spoke of leaving in several days, allowing for a moment of time with family and to prepare for a journey. Both the guardians agreed to stay in an inn further in town until they would leave and with a few final farewells, they left as suddenly as they had come, the stillness and peace leaving with them. His mother broke down to tears, his father went to hold her and spoke of positive things to come. All the while, Tarin had stood there, letting each thing slowly melt its way into this mind, before coming to kiss his mother. He squeezed her hand, and then walked slowly to his room which he shared with his sister. She sat up in bed, a scared look on her face. He walked over and crawled onto her bed and held her close, feeling her shake, but soon darkness set in, his eyes closed and the next time they were opened it was morning.
a/n: expect an update in the next few days, sorry these last two were so short. Hoping for a much longer one this next time around.