Once again an update. Hopefully this is habit forming, but don't get
your hopes up, not with three AP's and one honors class. Hope you enjoyed
your three day weekend (if you got it, but if you didn't hope you had a
nice weekend anyway), I know I did. I saw ROTK for the third time, but
anyway onto the story.
As usual, please excuse the horrible elvish, the translations are in //...//.
For the disclaimer see chapter one.
Please read, review and relax.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Foiled
Wait, something finally clicked in Strider's semi-conscious mind. These men couldn't be elves; their voices were too gruff. And what about this strange man with the elven tongue? He listened carefully.
'Im Geraint, toger o ir Dúnadan.'
//I am Geraint, Captain of the Dúnadan.//
Suddenly the man put down his weapon and put out his hand to greet Geraint.
'Mae govannen Geraint,' the two clasped each other.
//Well met Geraint.//
'Mae govannen Penwyn. Im baur ped na Yestin alag.'
//Well met Penwyn. I must speak with Yestin urgently.//
'Forn hi athrad'
//Right this way.//
Elvish, why should these men speak elvish, Strider thought. There was only one group of men he knew of that spoke Elvish and those were the rangers. But these men could not be the rangers, surely it was just a figment of his drug-induced mind.
Penwyn led his former Captain through the camp. Geraint looked at Yestin's men, they were young, much like Yestin. In fact most had been picked up by the youthful ranger along the way, but nevertheless fought just as well as any ranger. As they walked pass the first, his eyes took notice of a familiar face. It was that of a young man, relaxing as he smoked his pipe. It reminded him of someone he once knew, someone that had died long ago, but he couldn't recall.
'Who is that man,' he whispered quietly to Penwyn.
'That's young Strider. Yestin picked him up almost five months ago. Strange fellow, he is,' Penwyn stopped moving.
'Strange? How so?' Geraint began walking again.
'I can't really say. When we first picked him up he said he couldn't survive in the wild. But just a week later he battled against orcs just like he was one of us.'
Geraint rubbed his chin, thinking as they came to Yestin's tent.
'He's hiding something,' Penwyn spoke before walking over to the rock Yestin was using as a table to study maps, 'Captain,' he spoke quietly, 'Captain Geraint of the Dúnadan wishes to speak with you.'
Yestin turned from his maps, he did not recall the name, but instantly recognized the face of his old captain.
'Mae govannen Geraint.'
'Mae govannen Yestin.'
' You may leave now,' Yestin told Penwyn. As Penwyn left, he returned to his maps. 'What is it you need to speak with me about?'
'A very urgent matter,' Geraint walked over to Yestin, 'but first I must inquire into the identity of that young man by the fire. Penwyn tells me that he is called Strider.'
'Yes, that is the name he gave to me, though I do not believe it to be true.'
'So you have the same feelings as Penwyn.'
'Many of my men do. We have all found Strider to be odd.'
'How did you come across him?'
'We were seeking shelter from a terrible winter storm. He was in the cave we sought shelter in and I felt that we couldn't leave him there as he was sick. When he had regained some of his strength, he told me that he could not survive in the wild alone, so I made him an errand boy. The men have taken a liking to him, he is being taught many skills for battle. He shows unusual talent with a sword and possesses an odd gift for dealing with horses. Why do you ask?'
'There is something familiar about him, something that reminds me of someone I once knew very well. Has he show any other unusual talents?'
'Nay, but I have felt strange around him, something seems to pull me into helping him even when I do not wish to.'
Geraint took in Yestin's words, considering them carefully. There was a pause.
'But anyway,' Geraint continued, 'I've come seeking your help. There is a band of men harassing a local village. We were entering the village when they launched a surprise attack and overpowered us. Eleven of my men are now being held captive by them and the rest are either healing from wounds or lying in wait.'
Yestin didn't even need to think- he couldn't resist helping his old friend, 'Where are your men?'
'Not more than a day's walk away. They remained to keep the villagers safe until I could return with help.'
'Come then, let's not keep them waiting.' Yestin said eagerly. 'Romney!' his second turned his head, jogging the short distance between them.
'Yes, sir?'
'I want you to prepare the men for battle. We'll set out in an hour.'
'Yes, sir.' Romney turned quickly, calling to the men. As they began to hurry about, packing up camp and preparing for the night's trek, Geraint and Yestin started to plan.
'Tell me a little about the terrain,' Yestin inquired, wanting to get an idea of his battlefield.
Geraint turned over one of the maps Yestin had been looking at and began to draw a crude map of the terrain around the village.
'Our battle took place in the plains directly south. When they overpowered us there was no way out for there is a small, yet nonetheless powerful river running northwest. We could not escape to the east either for a thick forest runs north on the east side of the village. The only break is a small clearing, but they blocked that too. Our only path of escape was the hill we came down. But it slowed our escape as the hill is more steep than most.'
Yestin studied the crude map.
'The key,' Yestin thought out loud, 'would be a surprise attack.'
'That will be extremely difficult. These men are cunning. We did not see them stalking us as we walked into the village.'
'What types of weapons do they use?'
'Any kind, whatever will kill, maim, or mortally wound.'
'Then they are true barbarians,' Yestin tried to quell his growing anxiety.
'Aye,' Geraint was exasperated.
'Sir?' Romney came up behind them, startling them out of their conversation. Both turned their heads.
'Yes?' Yestin asked.
'The men are ready.'
Yestin looked at the moon. 'A half hour has not even passed.'
'Aye, sir. Shall I tell them to stand down for another half hour?'
'Nay, we shall be done in a few moments. Prepare Geraint's horse as well.'
'He did not come with a horse sir.' Yestin turned to Geraint, surprised by the old man's vitality.
'The rouges scared them off. We were left with very few horses and most were extremely tired. I dared not take one out.' Geraint spoke.
Turning back to Romney, Yestin ordered a horse to be prepared for Geraint.
'All right,' Yestin began, turning around as Romney left. 'We could trick the rouges into thinking you're trying an attack on your own. Those of your men who are able to fight will lure them out of the village by making a head on attack.' Yestin pointed on the map. 'Then my men will split into three groups- two big ones and one small group. The first big group will attack from the west. Then once we've got them thinking that these are all the men we've got, the second group will come out of the clearing in the forest on the east. In the meantime, the small group will come from the west across the river, go into the village and rescue your men. Afterwards we'll regroup and make way to a new camp for the night.'
'Sounds good.'
'Alright, then let's go,' Yestin turned to face the camp, telling the men to mount their horses.
'Romney, Bari,' Yestin called as he and Geraint mounted their horses. As the rangers began to move out, Romney and Bari caught up with their captain who rode with the Dúnadan captain at the head of the group.
'Yes sir?' they spoke nearly in unison.
'We've come up with a plan that should throw the rouges off; give them a good surprise. When we arrive at the camp, I want the men divided into three groups. One group smaller then the other two. Romney you will lead this group into the village from across a nearby river, but be careful it is very powerful. Lead the men in only after most of the rogues have left, not any sooner. You should only need five or six men. Bari you'll head one of the larger groups. Wait on the east side of the river until Geraint leads his forces down the hill. I will be waiting in the forest on the east side of the village. I'll come down through a small clearing. Once the battle is over and the men rescued, we will regroup and make for a new campsite. Any questions.'
None sir,' Bari spoke.
'Just one sir,' Romney said. 'How many men am I to be rescuing?'
'Eleven.'
'Aye, sir.'
The two began to turn back so as to make plans for the upcoming battle when Romney turned.
'Oh, and sir?'
'Yes,' Yestin turned, slightly annoyed at being pulled away from the conversation he was just beginning with Geraint.
'Where should young Strider go?'
Yestin thought for a moment, though the young man had showed considerable improvement with the hand-to-hand combat and hunting, he did not want to risk the rescue being foiled.
'Stick him with me. I'll make sure not harm comes to him.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yestin sat upon his horse, the rising sun bearing heavily on his back, waiting for the charge by Bari's group. As soon as they had reached the camp, Yestin had pulled out the map to show Bari and Romney the terrain and ensure that everything would go as planned. Afterwards the men were divided into groups and got to their positions, leaving Geraint to prepare his men. Some seventeen of his normal forty would be fighting. Two of the men agreed to stay behind to look after the ten injured men.
He turned his attention back to the battlefield; Bari had led the second charge. Now it would be his turn.
He turned to look at his men, they showed no fear despite the knowledge that some of them may not return.
'Men,' Yestin began loudly, 'brothers, today you will fight evil much like we have these past years, but this is different now, you will not be facing groups of ordinary men. These are barbarians, true monsters of war and hate. They shall not grieve for your death and nor shall you for theirs,' Yestin paused. 'I know that I do not have to tell you of the courage and honor that you possess. But do not forget that it is such honor that shall lead you to victory over them. Hold onto your courage and do not look back,' Yestin pulled out his sword. 'Onward to victory,' He yelled as the charge began.
Yestin glanced at the trees, they began to blur as their pace quickened. The battle was close; they were closing the distance with every second when a sharp cry was heard. Yestin carefully turned, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes met Ffionn's; there was an unusual emptiness to them and his horse swayed oddly for the horse master. He muttered a curse, as the horse swayed enough to show the arrow protruding from Ffionn's back. He quickly turned back, feeling his own horse sway to the side. He quickly pondered the origins of the arrow before turning around even farther. He cursed the sight; behind them were nearly two dozen men on horseback bearing down upon them. The surprise had been foiled.
As usual, please excuse the horrible elvish, the translations are in //...//.
For the disclaimer see chapter one.
Please read, review and relax.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Foiled
Wait, something finally clicked in Strider's semi-conscious mind. These men couldn't be elves; their voices were too gruff. And what about this strange man with the elven tongue? He listened carefully.
'Im Geraint, toger o ir Dúnadan.'
//I am Geraint, Captain of the Dúnadan.//
Suddenly the man put down his weapon and put out his hand to greet Geraint.
'Mae govannen Geraint,' the two clasped each other.
//Well met Geraint.//
'Mae govannen Penwyn. Im baur ped na Yestin alag.'
//Well met Penwyn. I must speak with Yestin urgently.//
'Forn hi athrad'
//Right this way.//
Elvish, why should these men speak elvish, Strider thought. There was only one group of men he knew of that spoke Elvish and those were the rangers. But these men could not be the rangers, surely it was just a figment of his drug-induced mind.
Penwyn led his former Captain through the camp. Geraint looked at Yestin's men, they were young, much like Yestin. In fact most had been picked up by the youthful ranger along the way, but nevertheless fought just as well as any ranger. As they walked pass the first, his eyes took notice of a familiar face. It was that of a young man, relaxing as he smoked his pipe. It reminded him of someone he once knew, someone that had died long ago, but he couldn't recall.
'Who is that man,' he whispered quietly to Penwyn.
'That's young Strider. Yestin picked him up almost five months ago. Strange fellow, he is,' Penwyn stopped moving.
'Strange? How so?' Geraint began walking again.
'I can't really say. When we first picked him up he said he couldn't survive in the wild. But just a week later he battled against orcs just like he was one of us.'
Geraint rubbed his chin, thinking as they came to Yestin's tent.
'He's hiding something,' Penwyn spoke before walking over to the rock Yestin was using as a table to study maps, 'Captain,' he spoke quietly, 'Captain Geraint of the Dúnadan wishes to speak with you.'
Yestin turned from his maps, he did not recall the name, but instantly recognized the face of his old captain.
'Mae govannen Geraint.'
'Mae govannen Yestin.'
' You may leave now,' Yestin told Penwyn. As Penwyn left, he returned to his maps. 'What is it you need to speak with me about?'
'A very urgent matter,' Geraint walked over to Yestin, 'but first I must inquire into the identity of that young man by the fire. Penwyn tells me that he is called Strider.'
'Yes, that is the name he gave to me, though I do not believe it to be true.'
'So you have the same feelings as Penwyn.'
'Many of my men do. We have all found Strider to be odd.'
'How did you come across him?'
'We were seeking shelter from a terrible winter storm. He was in the cave we sought shelter in and I felt that we couldn't leave him there as he was sick. When he had regained some of his strength, he told me that he could not survive in the wild alone, so I made him an errand boy. The men have taken a liking to him, he is being taught many skills for battle. He shows unusual talent with a sword and possesses an odd gift for dealing with horses. Why do you ask?'
'There is something familiar about him, something that reminds me of someone I once knew very well. Has he show any other unusual talents?'
'Nay, but I have felt strange around him, something seems to pull me into helping him even when I do not wish to.'
Geraint took in Yestin's words, considering them carefully. There was a pause.
'But anyway,' Geraint continued, 'I've come seeking your help. There is a band of men harassing a local village. We were entering the village when they launched a surprise attack and overpowered us. Eleven of my men are now being held captive by them and the rest are either healing from wounds or lying in wait.'
Yestin didn't even need to think- he couldn't resist helping his old friend, 'Where are your men?'
'Not more than a day's walk away. They remained to keep the villagers safe until I could return with help.'
'Come then, let's not keep them waiting.' Yestin said eagerly. 'Romney!' his second turned his head, jogging the short distance between them.
'Yes, sir?'
'I want you to prepare the men for battle. We'll set out in an hour.'
'Yes, sir.' Romney turned quickly, calling to the men. As they began to hurry about, packing up camp and preparing for the night's trek, Geraint and Yestin started to plan.
'Tell me a little about the terrain,' Yestin inquired, wanting to get an idea of his battlefield.
Geraint turned over one of the maps Yestin had been looking at and began to draw a crude map of the terrain around the village.
'Our battle took place in the plains directly south. When they overpowered us there was no way out for there is a small, yet nonetheless powerful river running northwest. We could not escape to the east either for a thick forest runs north on the east side of the village. The only break is a small clearing, but they blocked that too. Our only path of escape was the hill we came down. But it slowed our escape as the hill is more steep than most.'
Yestin studied the crude map.
'The key,' Yestin thought out loud, 'would be a surprise attack.'
'That will be extremely difficult. These men are cunning. We did not see them stalking us as we walked into the village.'
'What types of weapons do they use?'
'Any kind, whatever will kill, maim, or mortally wound.'
'Then they are true barbarians,' Yestin tried to quell his growing anxiety.
'Aye,' Geraint was exasperated.
'Sir?' Romney came up behind them, startling them out of their conversation. Both turned their heads.
'Yes?' Yestin asked.
'The men are ready.'
Yestin looked at the moon. 'A half hour has not even passed.'
'Aye, sir. Shall I tell them to stand down for another half hour?'
'Nay, we shall be done in a few moments. Prepare Geraint's horse as well.'
'He did not come with a horse sir.' Yestin turned to Geraint, surprised by the old man's vitality.
'The rouges scared them off. We were left with very few horses and most were extremely tired. I dared not take one out.' Geraint spoke.
Turning back to Romney, Yestin ordered a horse to be prepared for Geraint.
'All right,' Yestin began, turning around as Romney left. 'We could trick the rouges into thinking you're trying an attack on your own. Those of your men who are able to fight will lure them out of the village by making a head on attack.' Yestin pointed on the map. 'Then my men will split into three groups- two big ones and one small group. The first big group will attack from the west. Then once we've got them thinking that these are all the men we've got, the second group will come out of the clearing in the forest on the east. In the meantime, the small group will come from the west across the river, go into the village and rescue your men. Afterwards we'll regroup and make way to a new camp for the night.'
'Sounds good.'
'Alright, then let's go,' Yestin turned to face the camp, telling the men to mount their horses.
'Romney, Bari,' Yestin called as he and Geraint mounted their horses. As the rangers began to move out, Romney and Bari caught up with their captain who rode with the Dúnadan captain at the head of the group.
'Yes sir?' they spoke nearly in unison.
'We've come up with a plan that should throw the rouges off; give them a good surprise. When we arrive at the camp, I want the men divided into three groups. One group smaller then the other two. Romney you will lead this group into the village from across a nearby river, but be careful it is very powerful. Lead the men in only after most of the rogues have left, not any sooner. You should only need five or six men. Bari you'll head one of the larger groups. Wait on the east side of the river until Geraint leads his forces down the hill. I will be waiting in the forest on the east side of the village. I'll come down through a small clearing. Once the battle is over and the men rescued, we will regroup and make for a new campsite. Any questions.'
None sir,' Bari spoke.
'Just one sir,' Romney said. 'How many men am I to be rescuing?'
'Eleven.'
'Aye, sir.'
The two began to turn back so as to make plans for the upcoming battle when Romney turned.
'Oh, and sir?'
'Yes,' Yestin turned, slightly annoyed at being pulled away from the conversation he was just beginning with Geraint.
'Where should young Strider go?'
Yestin thought for a moment, though the young man had showed considerable improvement with the hand-to-hand combat and hunting, he did not want to risk the rescue being foiled.
'Stick him with me. I'll make sure not harm comes to him.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yestin sat upon his horse, the rising sun bearing heavily on his back, waiting for the charge by Bari's group. As soon as they had reached the camp, Yestin had pulled out the map to show Bari and Romney the terrain and ensure that everything would go as planned. Afterwards the men were divided into groups and got to their positions, leaving Geraint to prepare his men. Some seventeen of his normal forty would be fighting. Two of the men agreed to stay behind to look after the ten injured men.
He turned his attention back to the battlefield; Bari had led the second charge. Now it would be his turn.
He turned to look at his men, they showed no fear despite the knowledge that some of them may not return.
'Men,' Yestin began loudly, 'brothers, today you will fight evil much like we have these past years, but this is different now, you will not be facing groups of ordinary men. These are barbarians, true monsters of war and hate. They shall not grieve for your death and nor shall you for theirs,' Yestin paused. 'I know that I do not have to tell you of the courage and honor that you possess. But do not forget that it is such honor that shall lead you to victory over them. Hold onto your courage and do not look back,' Yestin pulled out his sword. 'Onward to victory,' He yelled as the charge began.
Yestin glanced at the trees, they began to blur as their pace quickened. The battle was close; they were closing the distance with every second when a sharp cry was heard. Yestin carefully turned, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes met Ffionn's; there was an unusual emptiness to them and his horse swayed oddly for the horse master. He muttered a curse, as the horse swayed enough to show the arrow protruding from Ffionn's back. He quickly turned back, feeling his own horse sway to the side. He quickly pondered the origins of the arrow before turning around even farther. He cursed the sight; behind them were nearly two dozen men on horseback bearing down upon them. The surprise had been foiled.