Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord Of The Rings, if I did I'd be a lot richer and that new series wouldn't have been made, these fantastic stories and worlds are owned by the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema respectively.
Authors note: Good day all, this chapter was a proper pain to write I'll be honest, there's a lot of transitional stuff happening and despite my best efforts I'm not too sure I made it interesting, still here it is, as always please feel free to leave a review with your thoughts.
Review responses.
Jubjub3000: thanks for reading it! As for your questions about his skills all will be answered in time.
Guest: thanks! I plan too!
Guest 2:thanks! I won't say anything on pairings at the moment, such things are still being considered.
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Chapter two: A paradox inside an Enigma.
Gandalf the Grey, also known as Mithrandir, also known as Tharkun and once known as Olorin, frowned, he'd felt something in the world…change, something had been added to it, something that hadn't been planned, a new verse in the song of creation…
Paying for his drink the Maiar in the shape of an old man made his way out of the inn of The Prancing Pony, then out of the village of Bree altogether, whilst he didn't know exactly where this strange feeling was coming from, he had a general idea of its location and more to the point he was sure it was getting closer…
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Eretor was rather surprised at the other Numenorean's reaction, Sindarin had been the main language of their people for literal millennia, for this pureblooded boy to so clearly not recognise it was both shocking and a little troubling.
On the other hand, he seemed to lack the foulness of a Black Numenorean, instead he seemed to radiate baffled affability as he glanced between the master of the caravan and himself.
Turning his head Eretor asked curiously. "Does he show any understanding of Rohirric?"
"Understanding? No, though he seemed to…recognise it, as I would recognise Sindarin, I don't speak it but I know it when it is spoken." Gleodan stated with a small frown of his own, clearly thinking.
"Odd…" the Dunedain mused, looking at the younger man with a slight frown, before then after a moment trying the small amount of Quenya he knew and still only getting obvious confusion. Finally he turned back to Gleodan and asked quietly. "Do you know his name?"
"I haven't had the chance to ask, he's barely been around us since we woke, instead patrolling ahead…" Gleodan stated after a moment, clearly a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought to ask his surprise ally his name.
"Well then, we might as well introduce ourselves." The Ranger stated with another of his small half-smiles before putting his hand on his chest and intoning. "Eretor."
Then pointing to the other man who introduced himself with a small bow of his head. "Gleodan…" Before then gesturing to the young Numenorean with a questioning look.
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I'd already known Gleodan's name, though it was good to now know the name of the dark stranger to whom I now bore a surprising resemblance. However they were clearly asking my name at this point, giving a small smile I bowed my head and gave them my nickname, I didn't want to just bandy about my real name in this strangely lucid dream, such a thing would feel like I was asking for trouble.
"Marcus…" I stated my hand on my chest as I returned the slight bow of the head. Noting their clear confusion, it was after all not a name that sounded particularly like the ones they all seemed to have, indeed I'd noticed that all of the men and women of the caravan I found myself a part of had very Saxon sounding names. 'Hell, their language reminds me rather strongly of old English in a lot of ways!' I thought to myself.
At that point they both repeated the name a couple of times, checking to see that they were getting the pronunciation right, before we looked at each other awkwardly for a time, neither of them understanding my words nor I theirs, sighing after another small while I nodded to them both and moved away, looking for a comfy place near a fire to settle down for the night, staring up at the stars for an hour or so before the gently dancing flames beside me lulled me off to sleep.
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Turning back to Gleodan once the boy left, Eretor thought for a moment before asking. "With your permission I would like to accompany you to your destination, I'd like to keep an eye on the lad…" the Ranger finished pensively, his eyes distant.
"As long as you're willing to pull your weight I've no issue with it." Gleodan stated cheerfully, happy to have the skilled northerner as an escort. "We are making for the village of Bree, do you know it?" He asked curiously.
"Aye, it's often used as a place for my people to rest after a patrol…" Eretor stated, still deep in thought.
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The next day was very similar to the last, though now we seemed to have acquired Eretor as a companion, the other man walking off only to reappear a few hours later, clearly scouting ahead, though towards the end of the day he returned with a deer slung over his shoulders, much to my delight, I was growing tired of hard bread and dry cheese and it seemed my feelings were shared by the rest of my companions, judging by the cheer at least.
That night whilst the deer cooked the men of the caravan had taken to sparring with wooden swords, even roping in Eretor, though the other man struggled as the wooden arming swords were rather different from the mans early longsword, a weapon that had surprised me, whilst a similar size to my own blade it was a far simpler design with a straight crossguard and fish-tail pommel. He still gave a good account of himself however, he was fast, strong and clearly an experienced fighter.
After a bit however I heard shouts and saw that they were gesturing for me to join in, clearly wanting to see how I'd stack up against them compared to my prior performance against the goblins, smirking I stood and made my way over to the improvised ring, shrugging off my sword and stretching before taking one of the offered arming swords, though refusing the shield, I twirled the smaller sword about myself, unsurprised to find it had a lead core to give it a more realistic weight.
Opposite me and being cheered on by his friends was one of the guards, Guthmer if I wasn't mistaken, this one really didn't seem to like me judging by his glare.
Now let it never be said that I don't have a rather titanic ego, one that had been fed by my complete domination of the goblins in my first real battle a few days before.
So seeing how this man glared at me I couldn't help but swagger into the ring, giving him a cocky little smirk as I did a small come hither gesture with my fingertips.
Letting out a small shout the man charged at me, clearly even further annoyed by my arrogance, though I had to raise a brow at his form, while not as refined as Eretor's or my own, these men were clearly not slouches and this one was no exception, his thrust whilst using his shield to protect his body was near perfect and against even my old self would have forced me to either parry or deflect, however this new body I found myself in had almost unnaturally fast reflexes, allowing me to almost see his attack in slow motion, deciding to try something I reached out, grabbed his sword and gave a sharp tug, sending the other man stumbling past me, at which point I stuck out my foot and tripped him, turning to watch as he ploughed face-first into the dirt and unable to help my laugh.
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Eretor frowned as he watched the boy laughingly humiliate the guard, not the least impressed by such actions as they reminded him rather strongly of the pre-fall Numenoreans deprivations upon the weaker Middle-men in ages past.
Marching over to the make-shift sparring ring he tapped the lad on the shoulder and held up his training sword in clear challenge, noting the lad's apprehensive look with no small amount of satisfaction. 'At least he is not so arrogant that he does not feel fear.' He thought.
Turning to the guard who was only now just rising from his third fall he offered the man his hand. "Have no fear, I shall teach my kinsman some humility." He told the man who nodded shakily, his earlier look of distaste now replaced by one of barely hidden fear.
Looking back to the other Dunedain he couldn't help but remember the stories of their kind before the destruction of Numenor, as told by his chieftain, the glories they'd achieved and the horrors they'd committed, looking at the boy he could even understand how they could do such things, he was so much stronger, faster and even though more than likely not fully grown towered over the other men, then there was his presence, if ever there had been an air of lordliness then it hovered about this man…
However that wouldn't stay his hand, Eretor knew he had to teach the lad some humility now, or risk a monster in a few decades.
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I watched Eretor with a slight frown, I wasn't confident in my odds against this man, he was clearly a consummate professional, where I was little more than a skilled amateur, still I raised my blade and prepared to take my imminent defeat as a man.
As he moved he brought his sword in a low cut, only to change halfway through and turn it into a rapid series of thrusts and jabs, his shield covering him at all times. Growling I parried or dodged each attack, though his speed and skill meant I couldn't go on the offensive myself.
Suddenly I saw his shield flying towards my temple out of the corner of my eye, without thinking I lashed out with a fist, literally punching the shield out of his hand, at which point I couldn't help my delighted laugh, my blood was up and the joy of battle had taken me.
Little did I realise that by this point we'd drawn quite the crowd, I didn't know how rare it was for the people of this world to see such fights, the Dunedain were known to be secretive and rarely fought so openly.
His shock however at suddenly losing his shield allowed me to go on the offensive, my sword lashing out with lightning-speed, his eyes wide as he barely blocked the attacks, slowly being pushed back as my wooden blade whistled through the air, he was near the edge of the sparring ring by this point, I was moments away from victory as I smashed his blade away with enough force to nearly knock it from his hand, only to hear a crunch as the force proved too much and my own blade snapped in two.
The crowd went utterly silent, before then bursting out in hysterical laughter as I stood there, blinking in mute shock at my now ruined practice sword, feeling a light tap against my neck I looked up to see Eretor with his sword against my neck and his little half-smile returned.
Unable to help it I joined in with the laughter, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Well done mate! I guess pride really does come before the fall!" I stated with a laugh and made my way out of the ring, still chuckling softly and completely missing the Dunedain's pensive look.
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Gleodan did his best not to gape as he watched the mock battle between the two Dunedain, at first it'd seemed the older ranger was winning, however the punch from the younger had sent his shield flying, Eretor was lucky that Round-shields had only a central handle and were not strapped to the arm or he'd have been more than likely looking at a dislocated limb!
Still the real surprise had come when the specially treated practice sword had snapped in the boy's hand, a stallion coming down on one with its full weight wouldn't have been able to snap one of those blades!
Putting that out of his mind for now he instead went to speak with the older ranger. "A most impressive match." He stated by way of greeting, his eyes on the older Dunedain's blade, it was almost completely ruined, great tears and dents littered its surface where it had been struck and a great crack had split it almost to the hilt.
"He almost had me." Eretor murmured, his eyes distant as he thought. "He lacks the skill and instincts of a man who has been in many true battles, but he more than makes up for it in strength…" he stated, clearly deep in thought
"I came to a similar conclusion." Gleodan murmured, finally he worked up the courage to ask the ranger something. "You call him kinsman and whilst I cannot deny you share a look, he seems so much larger, stronger and just more than any ranger I have ever met…I do not wish to be insulting but…how is that possible?" he asked curiously, looking to the other man.
"I'm not certain, I would need to ask my chief...or maybe lord Elrond..." Eretor murmured, his eyes distant.
Though after a moment he seemingly focussed again and turned to look at Gleodan, changing the subject as he stated. "I was surprised to see a caravan of Rohan this far north, it has been many years since we've seen trade from the south."
"Indeed that is why I came! I was hoping to be the first to re-establish trade between the north and the south…though now I fear I know why such a thing has not been tried before…" he finished softly, his mind flashing back to little bodies in a burnt out cart.
The Ranger nodded and sighed. "My people do our best but we cannot be everywhere, it seems that every year the orcs and other foul things grow more numerous whilst we dwindle…" he stated softly, his eyes distant as he visibly drifted into dark memories.
"I do not hold you and yours to account for my decision Eretor, nevertheless I do not believe I shall be coming back this way…at least not without a far increased guard." Gleodan explained, his own eyes distant as he thought on what'd been lost due to his hubris.
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The next day I was once again scouting ahead, just enjoying the quiet and peace this beautiful if empty land offered, the children had been impossible last night after my fight against the Ranger, running around whilst trying to see how much force it took to break a practice blade, that or trying to get me to spar against them, something I'd been incredibly reluctant to do, I didn't even want to wonder what would happen if I misjudged a swing and hit one of the little blighters.
Humming softly and unaware that I was being watched I settled against a tree growing out of one side of the "road" we were following, really it was just a green path with faded outlines.
Quietly And without really noticing my humming turned to song.
"Hear my plea to the fallen
Leave me to be with the broken
one last time before I go
Hold the last burning ember
Let us never surrender
May we rise unto the call
For the glory and the fall." I'd never been either particularly skilled or poor at singing, but now it seemed that like everything else my voice had received an upgrade of immense proportions.
Though before I could continue I heard the sound of a twig snapping behind me and so I leapt up and spun around the tree with my blade drawn, only to see a terrified blonde teen staring up at me with wide eyes. "God damn it L'eodiona!" I hissed, having been only inches away from cutting the foolish girls head off.
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L'eodiona stared up at the man with wide eyes, his massive blade only inches away from her neck, she'd not meant to startle him so, but she'd heard him singing and had been unable to stop herself from getting closer, like his speaking voice his singing one rang with power and strength, though the song he'd sung had sounded sad, but with a core of defiance and strength.
"Please continue…" she requested softly, knowing he couldn't understand her but wanting to hear the rest anyway.
Though judging by how he tilted his head before sighing and shaking it he hadn't taken her meaning.
"Stupid girl, I could have killed you." He hissed before turning away, she couldn't help but look down guiltily, even if she couldn't understand his words she understood she was being reprimanded.
Looking up she watched as he marched off, further away from the caravan, his gate being so fast that most men would have had to run to keep up.
Looking back to the caravan as it climbed over the hill she was unsurprised to see her father frowning at her, not helped by her guilty look and hanging head.
"I've told you before L'eodiona, don't startle men who carry weapons!" He snapped, glaring down at her from his horse.
"Yes father, I'm sorry father…" She apologised, knowing she was in the wrong and making her way back to the cart with her little brother and the other children, it now had multiple guards stationed around it, her father wasn't taking anymore risks.
Later that night she watched as the Ranger, Eretor set up a simple archery range, mostly it seemed for him to practice on his own, though a couple of the men of the caravan strung their bow's and joined in, their simple eighty-pound hunting bow's lacked the power of the Dunedain's great Warbow, though they gave a decent enough account of themselves.
The Ranger however was in a class of his own, able to hit at ranges the others couldn't hope to match and with a power that would put down a charging Warg in a single hit. She later learned that he was using a one-hundred-and-eighty pound bow.
After a moment she noticed that the stranger. 'Marcus.' She reminded herself, was watching the proceedings thoughtfully, a slight frown upon his face, his sharp eyes reminding her for a moment of a hawks.
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I watched the archery for a while, until they packed up as the sun sank beneath the horizon, the men of the caravan were clearly using hunting bow's, though like his sword Eretor's bow seemed strangely advanced, after all I like any true Englishman recognised a Longbow.
That was one weapon however I had absolutely no skill in, I'd always preferred the blade over ranged weapons, mostly just because I found it cooler if I was honest, not that I didn't have immense respect for those who did master it, the bow was also a vital weapon for those setting off into the wilds in a society like this one I imagined, after all one needed to be able to hunt ones own food.
Sighing and turning away I settled down for yet another night beneath the stars, idly fiddling with the zip on the fleece I wore, whilst I'd been enjoying myself at first I was starting to grow distinctly bored with this dream, being trapped in the same pattern for seeming days on end with no one to talk too was more than a little dull.
The next day continued as the last few had, with me waking, eating a small breakfast and heading out to enjoy the countryside ahead of the caravan, Eretor seemed to have the same idea as he marched off into the distance, I was tempted for a moment to join him, before deciding that the awkward silence would be quite irritating. Instead I'd just advance over the hills ahead of the caravan, often finding a tree to relax against as I waited for them.
It was a few hours past mid-day I guessed when I saw Eretor returning with a stranger by his side, he appeared to be an older chap cloaked in grey, making my way over to them I slowly took in the details of Eretor's companion, I'd been right when I thought him older, indeed he had a great grey beard and used a gnarled staff as he walked, and yet I had the strangest feeling that he didn't need the support at all, the old man seemed to march with an energy and purpose that I'd seen rarely in men forty years his junior.
However I couldn't help but freeze when the man was just a hundred yards from me as I felt a veritable wall of power sweep over me, my eyes growing wide as for a brief moment I felt as though I was being observed by something so much greater than myself.
That pause allowed the stranger and Eretor to get close enough for me to make out more of his features at which point I paused again, this time my jaw hanging open in shock, I recognised this man, I knew his face, I'd seen it the first time when I was six years old and many other times since.
"Gandalf?"
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Whoo! The first canon character appears!
Now onto the effect that Marcus felt when Gandalf observed him, I felt that was Gandalf not just looking at him physically but spiritually too, Numenoreans are supposed to be quite spiritually sensitive for men after all and Gandalf, despite his form is an incredibly powerful being.
Anyway until next time, I'm hoping I'll be able to get another chapter published this week but no promises!