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piosenniel · 04-26-2003, 10:05 AM

Earendil Halfelven’s post

Turthôl glanced around the common room of the Prancing Pony from under the hood of his cloak. Drunken laughter filled the room along with smoke from many a pipe. He took a sip from his mug; the ale was excellent. He had only been here one other time, but the memory of the beer remained fresh in his mind. As usual, Turthôl was looked at by the good people of Bree as a forlorn stranger, a loner who did not have a friend in the world. As a Ranger, he was used to it-that was how all Rangers were looked at by those too ignorant to know who they really were. If it hadn't been for the Dúnedain, these "lovely" people would have been run over by orcs long ago, Turthôl thought. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Those are not the thoughts of a Dúnedain. He remembered what Goldrim, an Elf from Imladris, had told him before the Elf left to the Greyhavens.
"Don't be bitter about your destiny. Few can change theirs, but you can always make the best of it." Goldrim had said jokingly.
"That's easy for you to say. You're going to live forever in a place few can imagine...a place few can go except for those of Elven decent. For us mortals, we must die after all we've done for this world. Haven't the Dúnedain earned their chance to live and see the Valar, as our fathers of old, the Númenóreans, had done?" Turthôl replied.
"That, my friend, is a question you should not be asking me." Goldrim said again.
"Well, you can ask the Valar for me when you get to Valinor..." Turthôl began but Goldrim interrupted him.
"Turthôl, you should not have these thoughts. You are a Dúnedain; you have great responsibility for these people. Middle-Earth belongs to you now. The Elves are fading into the West. We shall all be gone and forgotten soon."
_____________________________________________

Well, that conversation happened about 8 years ago, but he had never forgotten that advice. His thoughts and words had made known as a "Rogue Ranger" but that didn't bother him. He knew his duty, and he would do it.

His watched his friend, Rangar, await the arrival of other companions who would be accompanying them on his journey for knowledge and truth. He knew that whoever joined them couldn't be trusted for sure, unless he was a fellow Ranger, but one still had to be cautious.

He remembered back to when Rangar had come to them-not knowing who he was, or even his name. It reminded him of a story from the Ancient Days. Turthôl didn't trust him at first, but his amnesia was genuine. They quickly became friends. Now, Turthôl trusted Rangar with his life. He would do anything possible to help Rangar find out who he was and to know the truth.

He took a sip from his mug, and waited...

04-26-2003, 10:05 AM	#5
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Earendil Halfelven’s post Turthôl glanced around the common room of the Prancing Pony from under the hood of his cloak. Drunken laughter filled the room along with smoke from many a pipe. He took a sip from his mug; the ale was excellent. He had only been here one other time, but the memory of the beer remained fresh in his mind. As usual, Turthôl was looked at by the good people of Bree as a forlorn stranger, a loner who did not have a friend in the world. As a Ranger, he was used to it-that was how all Rangers were looked at by those too ignorant to know who they really were. If it hadn't been for the Dúnedain, these "lovely" people would have been run over by orcs long ago, Turthôl thought. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Those are not the thoughts of a Dúnedain. He remembered what Goldrim, an Elf from Imladris, had told him before the Elf left to the Greyhavens. "Don't be bitter about your destiny. Few can change theirs, but you can always make the best of it." Goldrim had said jokingly. "That's easy for you to say. You're going to live forever in a place few can imagine...a place few can go except for those of Elven decent. For us mortals, we must die after all we've done for this world. Haven't the Dúnedain earned their chance to live and see the Valar, as our fathers of old, the Númenóreans, had done?" Turthôl replied. "That, my friend, is a question you should not be asking me." Goldrim said again. "Well, you can ask the Valar for me when you get to Valinor..." Turthôl began but Goldrim interrupted him. "Turthôl, you should not have these thoughts. You are a Dúnedain; you have great responsibility for these people. Middle-Earth belongs to you now. The Elves are fading into the West. We shall all be gone and forgotten soon." _____________________________________________ Well, that conversation happened about 8 years ago, but he had never forgotten that advice. His thoughts and words had made known as a "Rogue Ranger" but that didn't bother him. He knew his duty, and he would do it. His watched his friend, Rangar, await the arrival of other companions who would be accompanying them on his journey for knowledge and truth. He knew that whoever joined them couldn't be trusted for sure, unless he was a fellow Ranger, but one still had to be cautious. He remembered back to when Rangar had come to them-not knowing who he was, or even his name. It reminded him of a story from the Ancient Days. Turthôl didn't trust him at first, but his amnesia was genuine. They quickly became friends. Now, Turthôl trusted Rangar with his life. He would do anything possible to help Rangar find out who he was and to know the truth. He took a sip from his mug, and waited... __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.