Becoming a ranger
Bree was a small town, quiet mostly, though many travellers passed through it on a regular basis. The popular tavern, by the name of The Prancing Pony, was the usual drinking place of the travellers passing through as well as the locals, thieves and anyone else who fancied a drink or a place to stay for a night.
That night the small tavern was filled with smoke and bustling with people, some, mostly hobbits it has to be said, chatted loudly or sung and danced, while others sat silent, drinking or eating alone. Small groups gathered round for secret discussions, or listened to tales of far off glory while through it all the barman and his staff wove and spun giving out food and drinks and collecting a fine sum of money for their work.
In one corner of the room, far away from the cold draft of the main entrance, but also away from the bright warm light of the roaring fire, sat a black caped man. Hid features were hidden in a lengthy cowl that left his whole face in even deeper shadow than the rest of him. The fellow had been staying in Bree for some time now, weeks, or even months maybe. Where he earned the money to pay for his food, drink and room, no one really knew, or wanted to know, though they were all sure of one thing, it was not through honest work.
The tavern door opened again in a flurry of snowflakes, the blizzard outside was getting worse. A cry of dismay at the cold draft flooding the room erupted especially from the hobbit folk and the door was soon slammed closed again.
"Good evenin' sir, may I offer you a room or jast a drink?" The barman asked with a strong accent, though what the accent was, was unknown to the newcomer.
"A room." He answered simply his voice sounded young, though his clothes were those of a ranger, a wandering people, seldom trusted. "And a drink, oh and maybe some food while your at it." He sounded so superior, like the nobles of far off Minas Tirith in Gondor, or possibly like the elves a little closer to home.
The barman detected this superior edge to the man's voice, "Foine sir, jast as you like it." He answered though his face twisted into a look of distrust.
Deep in the shadows at the back of the room, the hidden man looked up at the newcomer, his face was still perfectly hidden, but if you looked at him just then you could have sworn his eyes flared for a moment, caught in the firelight maybe, or else lit by a far more sinister light.
The ranger entered the crowded room and many of the chatting hobbits and humans there fell silent to look on him, but the man stared back from beneath his protecting cape with deep distain before moving to the bar. He was served almost immediately and sipped the strong alcohol slowly whilst waiting for the chatter to return to the room. It did so slowly as locals and travellers alike returned to their business forgetting for a moment their curiosity at this strange man.
Deep in the shadows the eyes blazed again as the man moved from his corner. His tankard was empty and he needed more ale, what better reason to get a closer look at the ranger who had just come in?
The ranger turned as the other approached and watched as he took the seat next to him, "Another ale if you please." The man said, his voice as mysterious as his face. There was the touch of the south in his accent, giving his voice a harsh edge. The barman nodded and refilled the tankard, as long as they paid he didn't care who drank his drinks.
For a while the two strangers remained silent as the room around them buzzed with conversation, the locals had given up on watching the strange ranger and returned to their own chatter. Finally the hidden one turned to the ranger, "You are a ranger are you not?"
The other nodded, "Why do you wish to know?" He looked deep into the shadow face, trying to make out the hidden features beneath the cowl, though this was close to impossible.
"Because you do not act as I would expect one to act, you are too young, and you sound closer to the gentry of Gondor than to the Dunadain of the north. Though maybe that is just the untrained observations of a worthless traveller."
The other laughed, though it was more a mockery of a laugh than a sound of pleasure, "I sound like gentry?" He exclaimed, "I think not. And anyway, how do you think a ranger should look and act? Like you? Hide away in a corner and act sullen and mysterious?"
"Why not? Though I am not a ranger myself, I believe that description fits most people's idea of your people, does it not?"
"Ideas and reality are very different things, as you said I am the ranger and you are not." He grinned, "If you are not a ranger then who, pray tell, are you?"
"A wandering spirit from the south, who has become bored with those lands and seeks something new, though that is impossible for one such as I to find."
"A good answer, very mysterious, it tells me nothing though, who are you?"
"Do you expect me to answer if you will say nothing?" The man raised the tankard to his lips and for a moment the ranger felt that he could see a quite hansom, young face there, though some sort of scar marred it's good looks.
"Fine, I am Elrohir, a ranger as you know, and as such I have no single home, though if you seek me, seek in Rivendell and there you will find my kin."
"Then you are an elf, that explains your manner and your age in one." He laughed, "I on the other hand am a far stranger person and it would take far more time than you have to explain it all."
"Try me, I have much time."
"Not nearly enough, for now would it please you enough to know that my name is Kelek' and I am not of your race, nor am I human, not fully anyway."
The ranger looked confused for a moment, if not human nor elf then what could this strange man be for surely he was to tall for both hobbit and dwarf, and yet he was obviously not an orc, goblin or any of the other dark races the young elf had witnessed.
"Have I confused you now elf?" The 'man' asked with a grin that was barely visible beneath the cowl, "I told you my tale was a long one."
"That you did, but as I told you I have much time for tales, would you not join me in a meal and tell me yours?"
The other regarded the young elf as if sizing him up, he took in the worn travelling clothes so typical of the rangers of this area, and the sword and knife that hung at either side of the man's waist. The ranger's cloak still covered his face preventing Kelek' from seeing his features, but as he had done the same he thought it best not to mention it.
"Alright Elrohir but if I tell you this then you must tell me more of yourself."
The elf nodded, "Of course, barman, could you show us my room please? And we would like meals brought up if you can."
The barman nodded, "Roight this way masters."
The fire burned low in the hearth as the pair talked late into the night, Kelekheru had a life so long that his story of it would take many hours. Elrohir sat in stunned silence as Kelek', who had removed his cloak to reveal a hansom face marred only by a long diagonal scar that reached from his right eye to his chin stopping only to cross his nose, spoke of his immortal life. The elf was shocked to realised that the 'man' was in fact a werewolf. A creature of legend even in this land of elves and goblins. He had been born by the sea of Nurnen over three thousand years before, a born werewolf and as such, in control of his powers. Since then he had lived in the dark realm, followed the lord of werewolves, Sauron, betrayed those who he fought with and turned to the light. From this moment of change the young immortal had travelled far and wide across the lands of Middle-Earth, befriending and battling people of just about every race in this world.
Kelek' spoke of his life in the South with the tribal Southrons, and in the East surrounded by the more cultured, but no less vicious Eaterlings. He told tales of places, people and creatures that the young elf had never even heard of.
When it came to his turn to speak, Elrohir felt that his life had been almost plain in comparison; he had fought in no major wars, travelled very little outside of the Northern realm of his father and usually spent little time with any race other than the elves. And yet he felt it was expected of him to say something.
Therefore he spoke of the elves of the north and of the goings on in that area over the last couple of hundred years. He spoke of his family and the other elves he knew, and especially of the rangers who he travelled with.
"Is it hard to be a ranger?"
"Why do you wish to know?"
"Many humans believe that I am a ranger, I suppose I have always wandered what it would be like if I was one." The immortal answered.
"It could surely be no harder than your life has already been." The elf answered, "Though I do not know if werewolves could be accepted."
The other nodded, "I have often found that, though I am no longer the evil creature I was, I am not trusted by those who I meet."
"Then how have you managed to live so long in the tribal lands of the South and East?" The elf asked.
"I have had to gain trust, or else do the intelligent thing and lie. What people don't know can't hurt them."
"You are correct of course, but surely some people must guess what you are?."
The werewolf again laughed, "Yes of course some are cleverer than others, but most never learn and those that do are easily dealt with, and if not I can run faster and longer than most creatures in these lands!"
"With so much to do in foreign lands why would you wish to travel here?"
"Life has become dull again and I am looking for more interesting things to do, so why not travel here? Maybe I could also find the time to become a ranger of the north for a while."
"I'm sure that Celest and Mkoll would have no disagreements if you neglected to tell them that you are what you are."
"I'm sure being a ranger couldn't be half as hard as some of the things I've tried, did I tell you about learning, or failing to learn to become a thief in Far Harad?"
And so the talk continued deep into the night and past it with the rising of the sun. Finally the pair decided that sleep was needed if they were to leave for Rivendell anytime soon and Kelek' returned to his own room for some rest. By evening the pair were on their way, heading towards the last homely house where Kelek' hoped to find something new in life, the chance to become a ranger.
Days later the werewolf found himself in the elven halls of Rivendell, the journey to this beautiful place and been swift and easy, but now that he was here, Kelek' wasn't so sure that he wanted to be. The halls looked so old, and yet new, bright and clean. They held a beauty matched only by their elven inhabitants.
"I'll take you to meet father first. It's strange I've never met any one who wanted to become a ranger, but he'll know what to do." Elrohir had been entertained on the long journey by amusing stories of the werewolf's past, and now he almost regretted his serene elven life.
Kelek' merely nodded in answer, following the elf into the great halls of the last homely house. The inside was just as stunning as the out, marble walls shone perfectly smooth around him as he passed along brightly lit corridors that could never seem dull. Finally the elf reached a large door; he paused before it a moment before knocking and entering.
Beyond was a large study with the back wall almost totally comprised of window filled doors leading out onto a raised balcony overlooking the land surrounding the great elven hall. Before the doors there stood a writing desk, neatly kept, and to the right of the door was an open fire place with comfortable looking chairs before it, a door lead out of the room to the left.
But it was not these things that the werewolf noticed first; in fact it was quite hard to notice anything within the room, anything that is except for the elf who stood in its centre. He was tall with dark hair that reached long and perfectly straight down his back, crowned with twisted silver and dressed in flowing robes the elf was unmistakably the lord of these halls and therefore the father of Elrohir, but somehow as Elrohir met his father, Kelek' couldn't stop staring. It had been years since he had left his dark lord, centuries even, and yet he could still remember that day and the great elven lord who had released him at the wars end. That elf had been Lord Elrond, who had taken charge of the last alliance of elves and men after both Gil-Galad and Elendil were killed in that great battle. But there was no mistaking the great elven lord.
"Lord Elrond?" His voice came horse and half chocked, the werewolf had hoped to keep his race hidden from the elves, well the elves other than Elrohir, but now there was no possibility of that.
The elven lord looked down on the werewolf as his son watched with confusion, "I did not know you knew my father Kelek'." He said in an attempt to break the silence that had fallen on the great room.
"We have met but once before," Lord Elrond spoke, "That was many years ago, kela amin yondo." (leave us my son.)
"Tanya nae n'quel, amin rangwa quenya. Lle n'sintë tanya, amin uuma malia... nan tanya nae n'quel." Kelek' countered the soft tongue of the elves flowing easily from him. (That was not nice, I understand quenya, the elven tongue. You did not know that...but I don't care.)
"Mankoi naa lle sinome?" (why are you here?)
"Don't bother apologising then, I came because I knew not that you would be here."
"I said I wished not to see your kind ever again."
"And yet here I am, coia naa ve-tanya" (Life's like that.)
Elrohir was still trying to work out what was happening, from what he could tell his father had know the werewolf and was not at all pleased to see him.
"Again I ask; why are you here?" The elven lord continued.
"I am bored with life; do you never feel like that? I met your son and we spoke for much time, finally I have come to the decision that I wish to join the rangers of the north for some time and he said that I should come here. He did not mention your name or I would not have come. I value the promise I made to you, and yet I was given no chance to honour it."
Finally Elrohir understood some of what was happening, it appeared that his father and Kelek' had met many years before and at that time the werewolf had promised to avoid the elf, why there was so much hostility between the pair was still unknown. Maybe werewolves were just generally hated, few remained in the world now, but he was sure that those that did were not well liked.
Lord Elrond laughed, "A werewolf wishes to become a ranger?"
"As I said I am bored with life, but I was always a scout. My skills could be well used by the rangers."
Finally Elrohir spoke, "Father, if I had known this problem lay between you two I would not have accompanied Kelek' here. But I knew not, and maybe it is good that I did not for would it not be good to have his skills put to use?"
Elrond stood silent for some time, but Kelek' sent a look of gratitude to his elven friend who merely sent a hopeful smile back.
"If you wish you could set a test for me, to see if my skills are worth while."
The elven lord finally conceded, "Yes, I will prepare a task for you, if you can complete it you may become a ranger with my blessing. Until you become bored of them also. But if you fail you must return to the south, never to return to my realm again."
Kelek' smiled, "You may set whatever tasks you wish, but they can not be wholly impossible, if one of your rangers can not complete the task then it is not fair."
Lord Elrond forced his face to remain emotionless as anger filled him, the wolf was cleverer than he looked, "Of course. My son will find you a place to stay for tonight, tomorrow my daughter Celest will be returning to these halls, you will be tried against her. If you can complete the tasks as she can then you will pass."