"The Rebirth Of The Fallen" - A story of glory and sacrifice (Updated 20/10/09 - Part Three added)
This is fiction that I am writing that culminates at the seige of Minas Tirith, but starts about six years before, I am writing it by starting right at the end and then going back to the beginning and telling the story of how it came to be, from the start and through to the end. The first part/chapter sets the scene for the rest of the story so I would be easier for you to understand the rest of it if you read the first bit, but then the action picks up and as you can guess from the first few lines there is a fairly major battle scene
I have only done one short piece of fiction before so this may be a bit shakey at the start but hopefully it will pick up! As with all FF & AARs, constructive criticism is always welcome!
And now, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did letting my imagination run off and come up with it!
If you like audio backgrounds I would suggest this. This is what I listened to when I was writing this but hey! Its up to you, but I would recommend you buy this song anyway - it is an amazing song.
Momus
UPDATE NOTICE (20/10/09):
Part Three - "Oaths of Blood" - is up, the next part I am not sure if I will add it on to the end of Part Three or if I will start it in a new section, but it will probably be up by the end of this week (25/10/09) if not it will be up by mid next week.
"Rebirth of the Fallen"
Spoiler for Part One:
"Deliverance"
“So this is it.” Ragnar rasped and spat out a mouthful of blood. He looked around at the carnage on the field around him. He leant his head back against the rock he was resting against, opened his mouth and sighed one last time as the last breath departed his body looking into the sky. His last thought of all his comrades who had perished before him on this journey to vengeance, salvation and sacrifice. The brothers who had fought beside him over the past years who lay buried in shallow graves across the land of Ithilien. Placed there in a final act of respect to save them from the ravages of time. His vision slowly paled to grey and then a bright light bathed him, beckoning him into nothingness…..
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Ragnar had no real recollection of before his release only a blur of fists, bits of wood and the flat of blades striking him and then the blackness that ensued. His first real memory was of the night that a group of hooded figures had come into his village in, what he later found out were, the Dunland Hills and taken him away into the night. They had not spoken to him but he obeyed out of instinct when they summoned him with a gesture and studied his face, feeling a bond to these beings with grey eyes. His own eyes were a vivid sky blue that made the clearest morning seem dull and morose.
He had been an outcast and a slave in his village, he had always been so, he did not know how he got there, only that none of the villagers were like him, none had the physical prowess and fighting ability. Only by numbers and his lack of weapons did they manage to subdue him. They all regarded him with disdain and hate for his eyes and his pointed ears. He never reasoned why, only accepting his fate and watching. He was always watching, for the slightest break in concentration or the smallest of openings and seizing it, dealing out swift and brutal revenge on his captors. But always subdued in the end.
Until the hooded figures came into his village bearing great bows and swords of great beauty, none had resisted then when they broke his bonds and dragged him away, kicking trying to break loose and tear apart those snivelling wretches who had enslaved him. He had been bound by hand and foot in the end and tied down behind one of the riders. He had to endure the jolts and flecks of dirt that the horse’s hooves flicked up on their long journey north. He went past regions he had never seen before, the gentle landscape gradually calming the visceral furl in his soul.
Then after six days and nights of travel they reached a single track road. They followed this to a large house of great beauty, in front of the steps to the main hall his rescuers spoke their first words to him.
“Do not run. Do not try to strike us. Agree to do this and we will unbind you.” One figure said. He looked around at the faces of his captors, staring into their eyes, weighing up plans. Then gave a short curt nod, they would be able to cut him down with ease, they were to many and with long reaching swords His bonds were cut, the hooded figures braced their hands on the hilts of their swords waiting for his move but he just lay there still studying, then slowly rising to his feet, eyes always flicking from one face to another.
“Who are you?” Ragnar asked, gradually stretching his aching limbs. With his returned confidence he added “What do you want? Tell me or I will kill you where you stand.”
“That is no way to speak to your rescuers and future host” said a voice at the top of the steps, the voice emanated authority and control. “But I will answer your questions none the less” The voice grew a face as it walked out into the sunlight. The sharp grey eyes spoke of untold wisdom and a warriors calculating mind, his hair was long and dark, reaching his shoulders, falling neatly to the robes draped onto his shoulders. “Simply, we are elves. Our history you will be taught in a moment. I am Elrond, this is my home.”
Ragnar involuntarily flicked his eyes over the magnificent house and then spoke “Why do you say ours? I am not one of you”
“Your eyes and ears betray you, you are an elf. Did you not wonder why you were so badly treated in that village? We have been watching you for sometime now in that village.” Elrond held up his hand to stem the tirade that was building up on Ragnar’s lips. “We only came to free you when we were certain of your nature, at first we thought you were to far gone to be salvaged. Your mind to broken to the animal instincts that consume you even now. Now come, let us talk” As he started to walk behind Elrond, puzzling in his mind over why he obeyed this stranger and why he felf no anger anymore, as if it had drained away, the riders turned and mounted and rode off. He would never see them again or learn their names, but their faces would haunt him in his sleep from a long time to come.
He followed Elrond into the halls and listened enraptured as his host told him of the histories of the Elven race in Middle Earth and how this house had come to be. As they talked Ragnar followed Elrond around the house. They came to a balcony looking out away from the house, Ragnar stopped and walked towards the edge of the balcony, unaware of anything around him, he looked out to the horizon and listening to the blissful silence that deafened him after being used to the noises of life in the village.
He did not know from where he knew the words but he whispered in a language foreign to his ears, yet his mouth and mind embraced like an old friendship renewed
“A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-díriel, le nallon sí di'-nguruthos! A tíro nin, Fanuilos!"
Elrond regarded him with surprise “Where do you know that from? Can you remember? What is your name?”
In a moment, in complete contrast to the tranquillity he had felt looking out and speaking these words, he was full of pain agony and fury, his face fell into a stony mask of rage barely kept in check. Elrond laid a hand on his shoulder, instinct told him to attack but he held onto his fury.
“The words you just spoke is the war cry of all elves. It means ‘O Elbereth Starkindler from Heaven gazing afar, to thee I cry here beneath death-horror! O look towards me, Everwhite!’” Elrond finished, his heart racing at his own memories that it brought before him. “Who are you? Here sit, you look exhausted” Elrond added gesturing to some chairs. Ragnar willingly accepted the invitation trying to contol the emotional battle that was raging in his soul and ravaging his mind.
“I do not know….before the village I remember nothing. All there is before is darkness….nothing. All I know is that village. I do not know how I came to be there, all I know is that I was. The villagers only called me ‘Ragnar’. There was no reasoning, no meaning behind it that I can fathom, only a name. They hated me. Despised me. Always, they treated me like an animal, I tried to talk with them, but every time they just beat me till I was senseless. Why? Why do they hate me?” Ragnar hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, he sounded like a hurt child asking its mother why this? Why that? When all along knowing the answer the moment the thoughts were put into words.
“Because they do not understand us. Because by the nature of who we and our race we are more powerful and wise than them. Their lack of understanding fed their fear of power. Also Saruman has been stirring the men of Dunland into open war against all those who would stand against him. The border lands of Rohan have been raised by hordes of Dunlanding hosts. The King Théoden does nothing, his mind has been poisoned by Saruman’s dark magic.” Elrond looked exasperated as he finished, sighing and looking to the skies. “Man is a reactionary race, only when their needs are dire do they listen and act, and now they do not listen for the darkest hour is yet to come…..” he voice trailed off. “Forgive me, my mind wanders.......Can you remember nothing at all before the village? No home? No family? Nothing?”
“No” replied Ragnar his rage rising again, he face twisted into a snarl
“Why do you ask? What is my life to you? You care nothing for me? You watched the villagers beat me and stood by and did nothing” He stood sharply making his chair fall over. Elrond rose too with less haste, his face irritatingly calm. Ragnar finally snapping lunged for Elrond’s neck. Elrond grabbed Ragnar’s arm, pushed it up and swiped his legs from underneath him, slamming his face into the floor, the wooden boards giving a dull thud. Ragnar found himself pinned to the floor, any move he made caused him excruciating pain.
“The elves who rescued you had to be sure that you were not broken completely. I am surprised you took this long to snap, I expected you to lash out sooner. It appears the damage is not as great as we had suspected.” said Elrond in a calm voice that incensed Ragnar further. Ragnar was breathing heavily, his rage engulfing his mind dropping a red mist across his eyes. In his mind something clicked and the red mist lifted, his anger gone, as if burned up in its last terminal spasm when he lashed out at Elrond. His breathing returned to a normal rate, only then did Elrond release Ragnar from the floor, brushing his robes off as he stood.
“I can hear the sounds of battle. Sword against shield, the screams and sobs of dying men……” Ragnar started as he lay there but then passed out, his body broken from the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil his had been through. Being through such an episode had stirred up painful memories, his body shut down in self-defence against the trauma that the world around it was inflicting.
When he awoke he was in a bed, he sat bolt upright and leapt out of bed his head whipping around the room eyes wide in terror until he remembered where he was. It was light outside, ‘what time is it’ he thought to himself. He put on the shirt that was lying on the chest, it was incredibly soft and light compared to the rough sheep’s skin clothes that he had been given in the village. He opened the chest to find some trousers and a padded leather jerkin with a quilted lining, dark brown in colour and put these on.
To wear these clothes, not rough off cuts of left over wool, but proper, well made comfortable clothes, seemed to solidify in his mind the fact that he was no longer a slave. With his head held high in a way that he had never done in the last ten years he walked out the door and decided to explore Imladris……“Elrond never told me the name of this place……have I been here before…before I…..”he started, but the words he spoke were drowned out by the sounds of battle again, just at this moment in time Elrond came round the corner to see Ragnar fall to the floor again clutching his head.
Elrond ran to him and crouched down next to him whilst speaking softly “Listen to my voice, listen to me. Come back to the present, stop listening to your memories.” Ragnar gradually unfolded from the fetal position his body had adopted, his eyes wild, like a wounded animals, darted around frantically searching the room. Then Elrond spoke again “Let go of your past, it may come to you in time, but do not seek it out, the past is a dangerous place to dwell…”
“Imladris” Ragnar stated shortly between gulping lungfulls of air to try and steady his heart rate.
“…..I never spoke the name of this place….how did you know? Did you hear on the journey here?” Elrond quizzed him with concern
“No. They spoke not a word to me till the steps. I do not know. I have not been here before. I can’t of or you would recognise me……” Ragnar trailed off.
“Yes, not many elves have eyes like yours. It is time we left your memories and previous life behind-”
“Luinelee. My name was Luinelee. ‘Blue Eye’.” Ragnar said in an almost trance like state, his eyes had misted over, giving his bright blue eyes a softer touch to them, yet his pupils were wide and were blacker than the darkest night. “My horse….Witnere….Tormentor….that was his name…as good as having another soldier in battle….he would savage anything in front of him, he was awful on parade.” Ragnar whispered with a smile “My brothers….” images of carnage appeared in his mind, the scenes of horror and gore bore through his mind, his throat closed up, gripped by the invisible hand of fear. His panic rising he curled up again, the images becoming more vivid, faces he recognised….but where were their names…..
“Shael si tyr os sholaes tystaer, masaer bol shor tysti eindral, ail si shalol os si mel, shi shor shar ail shoraesaer sher ail paes Ai shor caes os bylaer eil ail paes shi shor taer eindral. Shael shi tysti si ael os par ail si pasaer Ai shor caes o tar”
“When the cold of winter comes, starless nights will come again, in the waning of the sun, we will walk in bitterness but in dreams I will hear your voices and in dreams we will meet again. When we come to the end of days in the darkness I will hear you call.” Elrond repeated, mystified by the being that lay before him, having the wild and savage nature of the wildest of animals, yet this was kept in check by the most poetic and cultured soul of the Eldar. Even in his darkest hour, his darkest place, creating a shining beacon of beautiful poetic hope for those who would not rise again…
Ragnar gave one final spasm and shock violently, he awoke from his trance like state and grabbed onto Elrond’s arm breathing short sharp breathes “You are safe, relax and be at ease.” Elrond comforted the fearful Ragnar.
Ragnar let go and sat for a minute calming his breath “I shall take my name of Luinelee. What was....shall be.”
“Luinelee, welcome to Imladris” smiled Elrond. He helped Luinelee up from the floor and held Luinelee whilst he steadied himself against the wall. “Please, come and eat with me. We have much to talk about” Luinelee nodded not quite trusting his voice, and walked along side Elrond as he was led to one of the smaller dining rooms.
Spoiler for Part Two:
“The Forging of a Warrior’s Soul”
Over the next six months Luinelee under the guidance of Elrond learned to control his memories and his reaction to them. Despite his progress with his conscious mind, at first, when he was sleeping he would sit bolt upright bathed in cold sweat. The images of the hooded riders burning in his mind, making him jittery and skittish, jumping at the slightest noise. Once he had a firm grasp on his memories he woke in the night less frequently, as his health and strength returned, his movements became more self assured and fluid. In the seventh month of his recuperation whilst he was eating with Lord Elrond he requested that he be trained again in the arts of war.
“I will consider it, you have improved greatly since you first arrived. I am enjoying reading your poetry, it is most evocative to read.”
“Thank you Lord Elrond, praise is much greater to come from you my Lord. But I wish to train again, if Mordor is rising again as you have foreseen then all the bows and swords that can be mustered will be needed.”
“I will consider it.” Elrond replied flatly “Have I not been fair and just to you?”
Luinelee dropped his head in shame, for Elrond had been most fair to him and spoke softly “Yes my Lord, my apologises, I did not mean to imply otherwise. With you permission I would like to retire for the night.”
“By all means Luinelee, you will have my answer tomorrow morning”
“My thanks again my Lord you are most gracious.” Luinelee bowed and then walked out the room. On his walk back to his room he paused on the balcony that Elrond had brought him to when he first arrived, he gazed into the skies for a while, enjoying the warm breeze that was blowing, feeling the breeze gently caress his face as he closed his eyes and just stood there allowing the breeze to play with his hair, feeling so free, how could men keep another being in such as state as he had been? To torment and savage another like that? He opened his eyes and looked to the brightest star and made a silent promise to avenge all who were cast into the bonds of slavery by the vile men of dark intent. Regardless of Elrond’s wishes.
The next morning Luinelee got up and dressed, thinking over the discussion of the night before. As he made his way down to the main hall, he stopped by the mural of Isildur holding aloft the remnants of the sword Narsil. He was admiring the brushstrokes when he heard someone enter behind him, he heard as the soft pad of the feet moving slowly and purposefully up behind him, he waited till the footsteps were but a short distance away and spun grabbing the wrist that held the the sleek dagger poised to strike into this back. Luinelee grinned “So this might be easier than I thought!”
With that Elrond jerked his hand out of Luinelee’s grasp and slammed the heel of his palm into Luinelee’s exposed chest, making him to gasp as the breath was driven from his body. Before he could recover, his legs were swept from underneath him. “You have much to learn” Elrond scowled down at him.
For the next six months Luinelee’s life was turned into a continuous test, Elrond would without warning strike out, no matter what the circumstances, in their weapons training or eating a meal. For the first month Elrond got the better of Luinelee, but gradually Luinelee learnt to watch Elrond carefully, always out the corner of his eye and always look for traps and judge how Elrond was going to strike. In three months Luinelee had learned to best Elrond, to the point where he acted out of reflex rather than having to think. In his weapons training Luinelee suffered much more because of his health rather than his skill, With a sword Luinelee soon surpassed Elrond and was able to win almost every time in their mock duels. With a bow he was less sufficient, but he still, thanks to his elven roots was a far better marksman than any man or orc. For six months Luinelee trained towards his sole goal of vengeance, in this time his nightmares about the hooded figures and his episodes inflicted by his memories faded and no longer did he live in fear of them.
Luinelee lived in this routine, until one day, reports of ruthless band of orcs reach Imladris, they were small in number, about 20, but killed all who they came up on and left no survivors. Only the corpses and the tracks gave any information. What made the matter so disturbing was the fact that they seemed to be heading towards Imladris. When Luinelee overheard Elrond being told of these events he could barely stop himself from bursting into the room and asking to be allowed to deal with these orcs. But instead he went back to his room and oiled his sword and checked it in its scabbard for ease of movement, prepared his bow for travel, check the fletching on his arrows, packed some spare bow strings and prepared provisions for an expedition. When he was sitting opposite Elrond at lunch that day he did not say a word but watched Elrond intently.
“You have not said a word my friend, is there something on your mind?” asked Elrond.
Luinelee slowly chewed his mouthful of bread and then spoke “I am sorry my lord but I over heard you this morning, I heard the report you were given…..” He let his sentence trial off leaving the question silently hanging in the air
“Do you think you are ready?” asked Elrond leaning forward studying Luinelee’s face closely.
“No. Not entirely but I wish to try…..” Luinelee’s voice faltered with his uncertainty. He did not wish to presume that he was good enough, for he knew he wasn’t, but his rage was stirring again…
“I will accompany you. It is not such a long trek, they are moving in this general direction. They mean to sack this place…” Elrond’s face was set as stone with grim determination. “We will be leaving as soon as we are ready.”
Luinelee stood bowed to Elrond turned and walked out his heart racing. Later that afternoon Luinelee and Elrond meet atop the steps to the house both carrying their great Elven bows, their razor sharp Elven two handed swords and two curved daggers. To Luinelee these objects, made to bring about death and destruction, looked graceful and beautiful thanks to Elrond’s work. Their provisions they had in small sacks under their cloaks, this was not to be a long journey. Elrond spoke a few words to the group of Elves who were to remain behind in Imladris and then turn, followed by Luinelee, and jogged off into the north.
They jogged till it was starting to get dark and then rested for a while, neither spoke, their minds focusing on the task to come. They then set off at a brisk pace through the night until they came to the main juncture of roads that led to the Misty Mounts. Here they moved a fair distance into the woods and made a base camp. This merely was a hole dug for their provisions that they camouflaged and then walked back to the junction. Here they stood watch with their sharp Elven eyes and listening out for the approaching Orcs. At first they both stood watch, but then Elrond sent Luinelee back to their base camp to rest for a few hours. When this was up Luinelee replaced Elrond as sentry, for many hours Luinelee could see or hear nothing, then in the distance, from his vantage point up in a tree he glimpsed an orc through a break in the canopy, they were still a fair way off, Luinelee climbed down the tree and raced off to wake Elrond, he slowed down and gently padded the last few steps so as not to shock Elrond but found him already sitting up.
“I have seen them, they are a fair distance off, but they were covered in blood, so we need not worry about them smelling us. What do you say we do?”
“I will wait from them in the road where we were watching from. You will circle around the back and pick them off one by one. Stealth is the key here. Try and take out as many as you can and then drag their bodies into the woods. Then when they reach me I shall charge them whilst you attack their rear.”
Luinelee’s heart leapt at the thought of a chance to prove himself to Elrond. “Thank you my Lord”
“Do no thank me, your failure will also be your death.” With that Elrond turned and walked off.
Luinelee stood and thought on what Elrond had said, ‘I shall not fail.’ he thought. He then turned and headed into the woods parallel to the road to circle behind the orcs. It took him longer to circle behind them than he thought it would. He counted 22 orcs in the group. He checked his daggers and sword in their sheaths one last time then took out his bow and notched an arrow to the string. He gently padded along in the thick woods level to the last orc in the column. When the ones at the front started arguing over who had killed the most humans he pulled back on his bow, turning the double horned bow from an elegant ornament into an efficient and savage weapon. He loosed the arrow and immediately ran forwards catching the orc’s body as it fell, an arrow piercing its neck, he dragged it into the brush the other side of the path and then crouched and waited to listen out for any commotion, non was forth coming. He could still hear the argument at the front still raging. He grinned to himself in grim satisfaction and then padded off after the column again. The next four orcs he killed with his daggers, using one to pierce the neck and the other jammed up through the jaw stapling it shut to stop them making any noise. ‘17 more to go’ he thought. He managed to dispatch three more with his daggers. Just as he was about to loose his bow to claim his 9th kill all noise from the orcs stopped, he gently eased off the pressure from his bow, sliding the arrow back into its quiver and placing it next to his bow on the floor. He stayed crouched as he drew his sword and then he heard Elrond cry out “Luinelee NOW!!!!”
With that he heard the clash of blades then a body hitting the floor, presumably an orc, and then he burst out behind the already panicked column who had noticed their diminished numbers. His sudden appearance and the fact that he was already covered in the blood of their fellow orcs made them double take and flinch from him. Wasting no more time he cried out “A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-díriel, le nallon sí di'-nguruthos! A tíro nin, Fanuilos!" as he ran sword held above his head, as the first orc put up his blade to parry his blow, he placed his right foot on the ground firmly, spun on the ball of his foot and brought the blade down and around in an arc, slicing the orc’s stomach open, its guts falling out at its feet. Its face still looked surprised as it sank to its knees then fell onto it’s face. He deflected a blow from another orc with his sword and then brought his dagger up into its heart. As he ripped it free he found Elrond as his side. He sheathed his dagger and then advancing like a whirlwind ripping everything in its path, he and Elrond stabbed and slashed with their swords, parrying with ease the few blows that were lashed out. Soon the remaining orcs were dead, lying on the floor heavily mutilated by the attacks from Elrond and Luinelee. They were both heavy breathing after their exertions.
“Well done Luinelee, you did far better than I was expecting” Luinelee knew better by now than to smile at praise, and so simply stood their and listened “Your ability with the sword is far above mine. Now fetch your bow and quiver then, we shall move these bodies off the road.”
Luinelee gave a curt nod “My Lord” and ran back to fetch his bow and quiver. His heart was still in overdrive, his mind was buzzing from the rush that combat gave him. ‘I am the best, no one can stop me!’ he thought, then he got a hold of himself. When he returned to Elrond, most of the bodies were already in the thickets to the side of the road, in silence he helped Elrond move the last few.
“My Lord without a sculptor a lump of stone may never take form, I thank you” Luinelee said as he unstrung his bow as they were walking back to their provision store.
“Arrogance gets you killed, Humility keeps you aware. I am proud to have fought beside you. When they ask you of your life for a bards song, don’t forgot to mention your old master” Elrond said sagely, then a smirk broke out on his face, they both started laughing feeling the tension of the fight draining away. They ate a small amount then set off back to Imladris.
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Spoiler for Important for the rest of the story - Read this!:
From now on Luinelee will be referred to as both Luinelee and Ragnar, they are the same character, just as Gandalf is known also as Mithrandir - please keep this in mind to avoid confusion!
Momus
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Spoiler for Part Three:
“Oaths of Blood”
With the group of orcs dispatched, Elrond and Luinelee returned to Imladris, Luinelee immediately went to the forge to tend to his sword blade and to check the heads on his arrows. His sword had but a small nick in the blade which he, with the assistance of Elrond, managed to smooth out, his arrows were still in perfect condition, all of them baring testament to Elrond’s fine craftsmanship.
With his weapons tended to Luinelee slowly walked back to his room no real thought passing through his mind, only the peace he had come to know in this enclave, shut off from the world. He found himself in his room, his mind wandered back to the first time he had looked around this room and panicked. Now it was the only place he felt truly at ease, but despite Elrond’s generosity he never truly felt that he belonged. He dwelt on this as he washed and changed putting on the same clothes that he had on his first day. He walked to the window in his room and just stood and looked out, watching the clouds in the sky gently gliding overhead, listening to the birds that sang in the trees, a cheerful noise, oblivious to the dark times that lay ahead.
‘Oh to have a simple life’ Luinelee thought, ‘to not have a care in the world, to not have a dark shadow cast across my soul, to not have the weight of the knowledge of the future that Elrond had imparted to me’. Luinelee sighed, a tear forming in the corner of his right eye, he brushed it away with his thumb. Of recent his memories had gone to his days of peace, not all the images of war. To what had driven him to the edge…..He looked into the great blue yonder from his window for one of the last times. There was a polite knock at the door, he rubbed his eyes as he turned, “Come in”
“Lord Elrond sent me to let you know that tonight’s meal will be on the balcony” said the elf, “If you will excuse me I shall go and tend to the preparations”
“By all means” replied Luinelee, not quite sure why the change from the norm.
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Luinelee wandered around Imladris aimlessly for a while, lost in his thoughts and the peace and serenity of this haven. His feet brought him to the steps where he had first met Elrond, that day that had been the pivot in his life. Now he had a purpose, he had his dignity and his honour. Luinelee slowly lowered himself to sit on the steps and cast his mind back to the day he had been released from captivity, from being kept as a trophy by some petty lord. Luinelee remained here, deep in thought, till he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, Elrond came and stood next to where he was seated, “Do you still wish to follow you heart? I have told you where it will lead, the only real hope remains lies in the hands of a Halfling. Who must pass through the lands of Mordor and past the armies of the Dark Lord. Who must evade the all seeing eye.”
“I will do what I can. It is what I must do, I am a part of this world and shall in time be returned to it. I have accepted my fate, I shall never see the white shores.” Luinelee replied, his voice cracking, his head bowed. ‘I have nothing to live for, all I loved is gone, but I shall see her again when my destiny has been fulfilled’ he thought. He knew his face betrayed him to Elrond, so he just let the tears roll down his cheek, “My dear, my love…..” he said under his breath so Elrond could not hear him.
“Come, let us eat.” Elrond suggested.
Luinelee stood and rubbed his face in his hands, wiping away the tears, stopping his emotions spilling out. But in his mind the images of his dying wife burned his soul, breaking his heart to the point where the fragments of his heart no longer recognised each other.
His memories came flooding back now in a jumbled manner, the orcs who had come out of the mountains, ambushing him and his wife as they travelled. The orcs who had slipped past him as he fought the bulk of them, him running to aid his wife as she screamed for him, as they surrounded her, as he ran towards her seeing one thrust his sword forward, it piercing her chest, her face twisted in agony, her eyes looking at him in despair, seeing her fall to the floor, her own blood spilling from her mouth, remembering the scream he unleashed as his heart was rent asunder by his wife’s look of despair, the fury with which he hacked and slashed at the orcs, none of them stood a chance. Then his sword dropping to the floor, it clanging as it hit the ground. Him running to his dying wife and dropping to his knees, him lifting her head to his chest comforting her, but knowing he could do nothing. He stared into her eyes as she mouthed “I love you”, Luinelee sobbed back “I love you my dear, I will always hear you voice” with that, the shine in her eyes vanished, her body going limp in his arms, he kissed her forehead tenderly and then cried until his voice gave out. He dug a shallow grave for her body, not thinking, just trying to keep her in his life alone, letting none others know of her demise, letting her live on in the minds of others who thought they were departing for the white shores. He lay next to her grave for several days, not knowing what to do, or where he should go. His life had been ravaged, broken, and it was his fault, he had let the orcs get past, if he had been quicker, if he had been stronger, if he had been better. He did not know how long he lay there for, but the next memory he had was of being on his knees, with rope binding his wrists, he was being inspected by some human. Luinelee came crashing back to the present, silent tears streaming down his face, his throat tight.
He just stood there looking straight ahead, he was aware that Elrond was talking to him, but he did not hear what he was saying. “I must leave now, I cannot stay. My heart is set.” With that he turned and walked to his room, not waiting for Elrond to reply.
When he had finished packing he walked back to the main hall, he found Elrond still standing at the top of the steps. “I am sorry my lord, but I must do this. My memories haunt me, I must answer their call.”
“Do what you must” replied Elrond.
Luinelee grasped Elrond’s hand and place his other hand on Elrond’s shoulder. “Thank you for it all, I owe you everything”
Elrond just nodded and looked at Luinelee, “I will send messenger with any news and food packages”
With that Luinelee turned, walking off into the night, gone, disappearing like breath in the air.
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He marched south for eight days, finally reaching the edge of the Dunland hills. He walked across the hills for two days more, then, he came across a small band of Dunland men leading two other men bound by ropes.
His elven eyes picking out the features of the men in ropes, from Elrond’s descriptions, they were probably from Rohan. Why were they being brought so far north? Only four guards for the two men, and none had bows, ‘just my sword today’ he thought. With that the jogged on at a steady pace towards the group of men. As he approached they formed up around the men, one behind them and the other three in a line. He did not even bother to utter one word to them, he just dropped his pack on the floor as he approached, drawing his sword and charging at the men, not a single sound past his lips.
The first man fell to Luinelee’s blade with ease, the second parried three strikes but fell after Luinelee’s blade cleft his neck leaving a gapping hole. The third man died trying to run, Luinelee’s blade passing through his back and coming out of his stomach. The fourth man had fine looking armour and a decent axe, it had several patterns on the blade showing that it had been a good craftsman. The two prisoners had run away from him and behind Luinelee, they busied themselves with cutting each other’s bonds with the fallen men’s weapons. Luinelee focused on the last warrior, he walked towards him at a slow but deliberate pace, his eyes never leaving the man's neck unnerving him and winning the fight before it had even started, when the man was within range of his sword he swung it out, catching the warrior’s shield, making him stumble from the force, with the man’s guard down Luinelee slammed his sword into the warrior’s stomach, making him double over, he pulled his sword out and then held it above the bent over figure, he swung back and brought it down, scything through the man’s neck. The man’s headless body crashed to the floor, his chain mail clinking against the axe that now lay on the floor. Luinelee slowly turned and faced the men who now stood ready for his next move unsure of his intentions. Instead of speaking he cleaned the blade of his sword on the fallen warrior’s cloak and then sheathed it. With this, the two men he had saved lowered the swords that they had picked up. They were both poor quality and stood no chance against Luinelee’s elven blade. As they regarded him with suspicion, he walked over to his pack and took out some Lembas bread and turned to the two men.
“Here, have some waybread” said Luinelee in common speech as he held out the Lembas towards the men, unsure of how much elven they would understand. They accepted warily, to sooth their suspicions further he removed his swords and dagger and laid them on the floor in front of him, he then removed his bow and quiver, laying them on top of his sword and then took ten paces back.
“Who are you? Why did you save us?” one man asked.
“When one has been in the darkness of captivity, they would never wish such evils on another.” Luinelee replied, his eyes shining with passion, fixated on the older of the two mens' face “I was taken captive by a Dunland lord who kept me as a slave and trophy, I suffered much at their hands. I made a vow to the heavens that I would never allow another to suffer as I did. Today I started to honour that vow.”
The other asked “What is your name?”
Luinelee was about to reply ‘Luinelee’, but then he thought that he would accept the name he was given by the Dunland cowards, to let them know in time that their prisoner was returning with no room for mercy in his heart. “Ragnar. My elven name is Luinelee, but for my own reasons you will know me as Ragnar.”
The two men regarded him quizzical looks, their ponderous faces regarded him for some time before the larger and better built one of the two said “I am Aldwulf, this is my brother Forthsig. We are men of Rohan” pointing to the, if only by a small margin, smaller man next to him.
“What happened to you? Why are you this far north from Rohan? What was their business with you?” asked Luinelee as he pointed to the corpses on the floor.
Forthsig, the younger of the two, replied as Aldwulf was eating “Our village was raised to the ground by the men of Dunland, we came back from our flocks to find none alive, just the men of Dunland leaving. Our youngest brother, Guthric, only just out of childhood charged at the Dunlendings in his hot headed way, we tried to reach him and turn him round, but he was dragged from his horse and slain before we could reach him. By the time we turned our horses around, the men who had been hiding in the burnt out remnants of our village had emerged to surround us. We had a choice between certain death and uncertain death. We choice uncertain death in the hope we could escape in the night tonight. But you have saved us from our fate if it was ill, we thank you” finished Forthsig bowing to Luinelee. Aldwulf tapped his brother on his shoulder, they had a whispered exchange then they exchanged a brief nod.
Aldwulf turned around to Luinelee and said “Ragnar, if you will accept us, we wish to join you to what ever ends. Our family and village are no more, we have no ties to any lands now. Only our oaths to our King if we are called will surpass our oaths to you now if you will take us.”
With this Luinelee walked forwards, he picked up a dagger and slit the palm of his hand, blood was flowing freely, he held out the dagger holding the hilt towards Aldwulf “Take this blade, mix you blood with mine and become my sword brother. You will honour no other allegiance other than to me and your King. If a man will not honour an oath he has made he has no right to live. For this reason I will accept your higher allegiance.”
With that Aldwulf took the dagger slit his own palm and then held the dagger out to his brother Forthsig, Forthsig hesitated for a moment and then followed his older brother’s example. Luinelee shook hand with Aldwulf and then Forthsig. Their blood merged, an oath that was only transcended by one, to their Lord and King, Théoden and the heir to the throne of the Rohirrim.
“Come, let us find shelter, if looks like rain tonight.” said Luinelee.
They walked for a while, talking about their pasts until reached a small cliff. Luinelee and the two brothers set up a small lean too against the base of the small cliff, as they went about their jobs the brothers were preoccupied with their thoughts and there was little conversation between the group as they went about making a camp for the night. Luinelee went out into the night to hunt, when he came back with several rabbits the two brothers had already set up a small fire and were practising with swords and shields. ‘Their heart is definitely strong, the fire of anger fuels them.’ He thought as he walked back, they ceased their parrying as he approached, they moved next to each other and watched warily as his silhouette approached “It is Ragnar” he called out. Aldwulf and Forthsig lowered their swords and shields at this. “Now I caught the food, so you two cook it!” the light from the flames of the fire were playing on his face as he smiled, giving him a savage appearance.
“Aye, of course. Forth start skinning them.” Aldwulf was looking at Luinelee, “Ragnar, what are you intentions? What do you mean to do?”
Luinelee thought on this a moment, and slowly said “To avenge the hurt the Dark Lord has inflicted on me and the free peoples of Middle Earth” his eyes staring into the fire.
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Part Three will either be extended or I will just start Part Four, I have not made my mind up yet, but the next update should be before the end of the week.
Please can people leave comments as to what they think. It helps me as I know that people are actually reading the whole thing and taking interest and so motivates me to keep writing.
Many Thanks,
Momus
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Originally Posted by Inarus
and also it means ppl can go and find out for themselves - throwing a bit of education into the package! 
.
yay 
am waiting for it to come back and if they have bloody 
ing wiped my laptop I am gunna 
