2. Thorongil
- May, SR 2957 -
Thengel watched the stranger from the battlements. Morwen had named him Thorongil, Eagle of the Star, when she heard how he had found her lost hairpin. He had seen the pin among the long grass of her garden and had swooped like an eagle to retrieve it, not knowing that her maids had scoured the whole garden for it last week. And he wore a pin of seven-rayed star, the one link to his lost past. It seemed appropriate that he should have a Sindarin name, in the manner of Gondor, as Morwen herself.
Thengel had watched Thorongil woke four days ago, lost and confused. And now, barely healed, he watched Fastred put a practice sword into his hand. Once the hilt touched his palm, his grip shifted and tightened instinctively. Fastred's eyes gleamed with hope that Thorongil had not forgotten his skills as he had forgotten his name.
He tried some basic moves to jot Thorongil's memory. Thorongil followed him clumsily without much success. Aware of unseen watchers, he squared his shoulders to hide his disappointment.
Casually, he opened with a simple chest attack with little force. At the worst, his clueless opponent would get a bruise, one among many half healed ones. Quicker than thought, there was an answering thwack, followed by another and another. Stroke by stroke Thorongil met him. His movements had an alien silky feel, smooth and flowing.
Faster and faster they fenced until both were streaming with sweat. Finally Fastred scored a hit and saw Thorongil winced. Guiltily he remembered his partner was still recovering. No doubt Nurse will have some words with him later.
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Three weeks of sword practice had strengthened Thorongil's arms and shoulders. Though he had done well with his skills, he had no luck in teaching them. He became slow and clumsy when he tried to think or show the movements to the others. Fastred had stopped pressing him further after a few failed bouts. But Thorongil was genuinely distressed he had not been able to repay his saviour even in this small matter.
To get Thorongil out of his frustrations, Fastred taken him to the archery range. He had heard that Thorongil and his companion were good bowmen. Fastred hoped that Thorongil could repeat his feat with the bow with greater success.
Thorongil examined the horsebow carefully. He has seen the men practiced from afar. The feel of the wood and twine is unfamiliar to him. Yet Fastred had watched expectantly, as if he knew what to do with it. He cleared his mind and tried to find that quiet place that had guided his hands in handling the sword.
He felt the shaft of an arrow placed in his right hand. He nocked the arrow and drew the string, firing towards a straw target 20 feet away. The string thwacked painfully against his inner arm and the arrow went wide.
"Try again," said Fastred softly, trying to hide his disappointment. "Put this on." He strapped a long strip of leather to Thorongil's inner arm. "Hold the bow like this, firmly. You nocked the arrow too low. Place it here. Now, draw, aim, release."
The arrow buried itself two feet in front of the target. "Better. Try again. Put less draw on it." Again and again, Fastred made him repeat the routine. He made some improvements but his aim was poor and uneasy. Perhaps the sword skill had been a fluke. Perhaps he had forgotten his archery abilities... Perhaps he was not familiar with the short horsebows. A longbow was much longer than the horsebows favoured by riders. With sudden insight, he called for Thorongil's bow and arrows to be brought to him. He had not shown Thorongil the arms that belonged to him and Thorongil had not asked for them either. A long sword, longbow and a quiver of green fletched arrows had been found with him.
As Thorongil beheld the longbow, and felt a stirring of memories. He remembered two voices and a hand adjusting his grip. He tried to glimpse a face with the voices but they faded away as quickly as they came. He knew the bow was his, made for him and perfectly fitted to his strength. Unstrung, it stood to as tall as he and not an inch more.
He took aim with the bow and started shooting again. The outside world faded into silence. Two nearly identical voices spoke indistinctly but he knew their content. Thud! Thud! Thud! The arrows flew true this time. And the men watching hushed in reverence to his easy grace and skill.
His fingers groped questioningly over the quiver. Realising he had run out, the spell was broken. He drooped, exhausted mentally. Three remembered voices, he heard and held close to his heart. A woman cheering and two men giving continuous unbroken instructions.
He looked expectantly at the Fastred. Fastred looked rather pleased with himself. And oddly, Thorongil was pleased too. "Fastred, this bow ..."
"Yes?"
"It was made for me, wasn't it?"
"Made for you? I wouldn't know. But it is yours. Or rather, it came with you."
"The arrows too?"
"Yes, the arrows too. You remembered something?"
"Yes. I think I fletched the arrows. I think I always fletched my own arrows."
"So... Well, from now on, you can fletch your own arrows. And you can start training with a horsebow too. You cannot use longbow ahorseback. Can you ride, Thorongil?"
Thorongil looked out to the corral where the riders were training new colts. Nothing. He gave a wordless shrug. Fastred, interpreting his gesture correctly, clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Tomorrow, we shall see how you fare on a horse. The best way to find out, eh?"
Author's Note:
2005-02-03 - Will be away the whole of next week. It's the Chinese Lunar New Year. So I'm posting this earlier than scheduled.
Footnotes:
1. (Appendix - As Thorongil he serves in
disguise both Thengel of Rohan and ...)
2. To be classified as a longbow, the bow
must as tall as the archer with straight ends, wider at the arrow plate than
any other spot on the top limb.
3.
There's no indication of how long Thorongil was in Rohan and when he left Rohan
for Gondor. He was there long enough for Eomund (currently 5) to grow up, but
not long enough for him to marry Theodwyn. Also, very, very little information (closer
to none, actually) about what he did there, so there's a whole lot of
conjectures and total inventions.
In 2957, the canon characters are:
Age - Name
09 - Theoden, son of Thengel
26 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn
36 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Theoden
53 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan
