Well, I finally finished Little Hobbits Big Trouble, but then I got some Crit without the Con from Borys68, so I was pretty discouraged. But, after recieving another follower and more pleased reviews I have decided to continue. Thanks all!
"What are other Ranger camps like?" I asked as we stumbled through the thick bracken some six hours or so later.
"I've already told you." Esgalnoron smiled as he caught and saved me from another painful fall.
"They're pretty much the same, aside from little things, all caused, naturally, by you."
We sat down against a log for a few moments to give me time to rest my aching knees.
"They're all rowdier than us, they swim without clothes, they don't take 'resting breaks' in their treks, they're songs around the campfire aren't half as jolly..."
This talk went on for some minutes, broken only by silent grimaces of pain from myself as we bushwhacked deeper into the woods.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::
Esglanoron frowned, gazing around him blankly. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Esgalnoron-"
"No! We're not lost! We're fine, I just, um-"
"We're completely lost!"
"No we aren't! Just follow me, and we'll be fine."
"And when Da finds our rotting bodies three years into the future, it will be your fault."
"Alright, alright! I will assume all the blame, just come on." He assured, unsheathing his dagger to help break through the bramble.
I muttered something very dark and deadly.
Esgalnoron pretended not to notice.
::::::::::::::::::::
"That's it! I'm stopping right now." I growled threateningly, refusing to move at all.
"Thurin! Come on!" Esgalnoron whined piteously, sliding the dagger back expertly into the sheath.
"No! You'll only get us more lost. I've never seen any of these trees in my whole life!"
"Ha! That's funny! You can't ever remember directions or anything!"
Thorongil found us three hours later, each sitting on a different side of a large tree, scowling.
"Thurin! Esgalnoron! Thank goodness I've found you!" He gasped, sinking down against said tree with relief.
"I'm sorry Da! We didn't mean to get lost!"
"Yes! It was all my fault!" Esgalnoron assured, coming out from his side of the tree.
"Well, come on." Thorongil assumed his usual gruff air as he led the two hurriedly back to camp.
::::::::::::::::::
"Why, Da?"
"Thurin, we've already gone over this. I will return as soon as I can."
"You'll be gone ages!"
"Esgalnoron can take care of you.
"But Da!"
"Thurin, listen, I'm sorry. I will return soon. I have urgent business to attend to. And you, my friend, have urgent spear throwing lessons to attend to."
I pouted sadly.
"Rangers don't even need to learn spear-throwing! It's ridiculous! Have you ever had to use it?"
Thorongil hesitated.
"That's beside the point, Thurin. Amathron is your teacher, and he says that it is part of a well-rounded education."
"Since when has spear-throwing been part of a well-rounded education?"
"Since Amathron. Goodbye Thurin, I love you. I will return, and soon, if I may."
I sighed heavily.
"Goodbye Da. I love you too."
He smiled, kissed me softly on the forehead, and headed off briskly into the woods.
"And you better not get hurt or die or anything! I'll have you if you do!" I screeched as an afterthought.
He just chuckled.
"Goodbye Thurin!" He yelled over his shoulder before disappearing into the brush.
I shook my fists angrily, before running back, mad at him.
He was going away, for a while. There was something he wasn't telling me.
I growled angrily as I sat down heavily in a stump, feeling dejected.
"Thurin!" Amathron yelled, over the noise of Cullastor's battle cry/singing practice.
"For the last time! Rangers are men of stealth! We do not scream battle cries and songs as we rush into battle!" Captain Rainor yelled irritably, throwing a rock, quite immaturely, at the offender.
Cullastor pouted.
"Someday there'll be a wonderful opportunity. And I'll seize it. It will be splendid!" He retorted, stuffing the odes to victory he had been composing back in his cloak.
"Ha!" The Captain yelled back, upsetting a pile of pots, setting the whole camp in uproar.
"Yes, Amathron?" I yelled through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the mayhem around me.
"Spear-throwing practice!" He chirped merrily.
I was gonna gut him with his own spear if he didn't watch out.
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Faramir buried his head into his pillow, trying to push back the tears that he knew were coming.
He was too old to cry, he just couldn't, but everything was going so wrong.
Things weren't supposed to go this way, everything was going to be so perfect when his mother had been expecting her third child.
Life had been very pleasant. Finduilas and Boromir had loved him very much, and Denethor had been considerably fond of him.
But then his mother died, and Fimil died. Father had grown terribly distant. Boromir was nearly always off doing his duty on the field.
Faramir stared regretfully at the soaked pillow.
He was going out with the Rangers tomorrow.
He had to be strong.
He would make both Boromir and his father proud of him.
He was going to fight, even though he didn't want to.
He picked up an immense volume of short stories of old.
Immediately after he had cracked it open, he wished he hadn't.
This was the book his father had thrown at him only minutes before.
He tried not to think about the fighting that must ensue soon.
He was going.
He was going.
He had to.
It was his duty.
He glanced down at the open book on his lap.
There was that story about the Kings of Arnor Fimil had loved so much.
He would read these types of stories to her every night, and then she would tell him about how great she would be. All the monsters she would kill, all the soldiers she would command.
She had told him that one day she would find the King, in fact, she had promised him that.
She had told him she would see the King return, she would see evil banished forever.
She had told him she would fight till the end of things, when no one else was listening she would whisper these to him, and then he would smile, and promise her his aid.
And when she looked away he would cry, because there was no hope she could ever do such deeds.
These memories were not helping him compose himself.
He had to stop thinking about such things.
He picked up his sword and gazed at it sadly.
:::::::::::::::::
I woke late the next day, finding Esgalnoron finishing the book we had begun some days before.
I rose, winced, and nearly cried out at the sudden pain from my knee. Esgalnoron glanced over in surprise at my cry reduced to a unintelligible sound.
"What happened?"
"Hurt. My. Knee. During. Spear. Throwing. Practice." I grimaced through my teeth desperately trying not to sound as if I was in pain at all.
"Do you need any bandage braces?"
"Just one on my knee. I can do it after breakfast."
I began to braid my hair.
Esgalnoron raised his eyebrows.
"Mine stay in years longer than yours."
"I know."
I undid my meager messy work and let him braid it for me instead, knowing that if I didn't he would give me disapproving looks all day long.
"Is that other Ranger still hanging around?" I asked as I stole the book and tried to grab a bit of reading time before we had to start work.
He shook his head.
I wondered how much reading I could cram in before late morning patrol.
Sadly, none.
The braid was only half done, when Dollion from the Ithilien Rangers ran into camp, breathless.
"The rest of the Ithilien Rangers need reinforcements! Immediately!" He nearly collapsed into The Captains arms, apparently he had sprinted the whole way.
"Everyone! Hurry! Where are they?" He supported the exhausted man as Rangers streamed out from all corners to his person.
"The river..." He choked out, as Rainor handed him off to the healer.
DRAMA! What will happen next? I know, 'cause I already have it all written out, but you don't! Muahahaha! You must endure the evil cliffies, sorry. I would recommend following, so ya' don't miss an update. :D See you next chapter, I live on reviews, so, yah, please don't let me die. Please!
Note to any more peoples feeling the ridiculous urge to flame me: Esgalnoron has offered to personally skin alive, tie to a tree, and pummel to death any offenders. So yeah, watch out.
Thurin