Author's Note:

Here is chapter five of 'Sulaeke'. I am sorry I have taken so long to update – I have lately found myself stuck fast in the middle of a writer's block. Thankfully, I retrieved my creativity and wrote this chapter.

I have been informed that some people are confused as to how to pronounce my characters' names. So, I am going to tell you. Here we go:

Sulaeke (Soo-lie-kay)

Sadaeth (Saw-die-th)

Aglaron (Agg-lar-rone)

Wicaiven (Wick-aye-venn)

I think that these are all of my characters. If I forgot one, please tell me in a review!

Sulaeke: Chapter Five

Within a few short hours, Sulaeke's family was gathered in the living room as Aglaron strung his sword around his waist, preparing himself for his first training session as a ranger of Ithilien.

"I had better go," he sighed, stepping toward the door.

"Good luck!" Sadaeth exclaimed, smiling with her other two family members.

He hurried down the street and up the staircases to the sixth level. He had been to the fifth level a few times, but the sixth level was entirely new to him. He saw the training arena ahead, and made his way to it, making plans to explore a bit before going home.

Upon entering, he saw that not many of the soldiers had gathered yet. The captain, however, was there. Faramir noticed his presence and beckoned for him to come over. Aglaron complied, stopping a few feet away from his new captain.

"So," Faramir began. "You are the new recruit?"

"Yes."

"What is your name?"

"Aglaron." He answered Faramir's questions with little emotion.

"The head of your division is over there." Faramir pointed off to the right. There was a tall, burly man standing in front of a growing group of people. Aglaron mentally groaned. It was Wicaiven. He grudgingly made his way over to where his rival stood.

"Hey look! It's the pip-squeak!" Wicaiven cried, causing a few of the men to chuckle. Aglaron turned a light shade of pink from anger and embarrassment. Wicaiven had no doubt told the story, not including the part about how the fight had been stopped, but more likely exaggerating it until he had beaten Aglaron to a pulp.

"If I remember correctly, I was winning before our fight was broken up," Aglaron retorted.

"You're all talk, kid," Wicaiven said, pointing a finger at Aglaron's chest.

In truth, Aglaron felt like grabbing Wicaiven's finger and ripping it off, instead of simply muttering, "You orc..."

Within seconds, Wicaiven was red with rage. "How dare you call me that!" he fumed. Aglaron realized that he needed to get out of the position he currently found himself in, and quickly. As much as he hated the fact, Wicaiven probably could beat him to a pulp, and he felt he was too young to die.

He hurriedly stepped backwards a few times, his feeling of impending doom growing as Wicaiven stepped forward after him. He hoped the pure terror he was experiencing wasn't evident.

Aglaron hadn't realized that he had continued to move backward until he hit the training arena wall behind him. Wicaiven had continued to follow him, and now there seemed to be no escape.

Wicaiven lifted Aglaron off the ground by the front of his shirt, and was about to carry out the promise he had made on their last meeting, when suddenly, Aglaron was dropped. He fell to his hands and knees, rubbing his neck where his shirt collar had slightly prevented his breathing.

"C-captain Faramir!" Wicaiven chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Wicaiven, could I talk to you for a moment?" Faramir said, intense dislike dripping from his voice.

"Certainly, Captain," Wicaiven responded, looking quite panicky. Faramir motioned with his hand for Wicaiven to follow him as he made his way to a corner of the arena where they could talk in private.

Aglaron stood up a little uneasily, wanting nothing more than to go home and pity himself. Although inside he knew that, had it not been for Faramir he could have died that day, he felt that he had just suffered a large blow to his pride, being saved by someone who was younger than he was. That wasn't how it was supposed to work!

Upon reaching his destination, Faramir shoved Wicaiven up against the wall.

"What in Middle-earth do you think you were doing?" Faramir cried.

"I-I, well, umm..."

"You could have killed him, what with your insurmountable temper!"

"Well, he called me an orc..."

"That's not far from the truth! You're despicable. Go home, Wicaiven."

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Your dismissed! Go home, leave, depart, withdraw yourself from my presence! Are these words foreign to you?"

"But, Captain! You can't be serious! I have a family!"

"You don't have a family, Wicaiven. All you have is your mother, who let me say is not getting any younger! Now go!" Wicaiven huffed angrily and ground his teeth together before turning and marching out of the arena, never to return again.