Post by Arassuil on May 12, 2008 6:20:05 GMT
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Víressë, 26th day
We had time to rest, and each Ranger that was not on watch were allowed to return to their families. It was a welcome relief, for days had been long and the miles hard. My father and I stopped in the town of Bree for a bit of rest. He was going to stay here when I go tomorrow to my wife and sons, still a day's ride away. It will be a blessed time, and I know my eldest son Arathorn will be eager to tell me and show me all he has learned. I long for his eagerness of youth, something that seems to leave a man soon after he becomes a Ranger. He will be one soon, and I dread what his days will bring. But I rest for now, writing my thoughts, for it is my fear that rest will be something we will not find much of in years ahead. Why? I don't know why. I only have a feeling in my gut.
It was a feeling that only grew worse when, as we relaxed this evening with an ale, enjoying some bread and cheese at this fine Inn, the Prancing Pony of Bree, that my father told me he was too old to be riding so long. Age had crept up on him in the exceeding lines about his eyes, and the once dark curled locks were well peppered with silver. Here, for the first time, at hearing his words, I could see in him that his days were short.
Mother had passed a few years before. I have yet to write about this, for it had pained me to ponder. But her passing had affected father more, for when mother passed, she took a part of my father with her. He remained strong as our chieftain, but evermore did he lean on me after that time. I knew then that my day of becoming chieftain was fast approaching. He again expressed his confidence in my being able to lead, pointing out that I had been second in command for twenty years now. I can't say I look forward to being chieftain, but it is the destiny of first-born of the line of Isildur, heir of Elendil. I cannot see it, but I can feel that in days long ahead, well past my days, all that we have held to in our heritage will come to fruit.
We talked of this a little this night, of a glimmer of hope warmed us from inside. A warmth that spoke silently to us of the great deeds of our forefathers, and or hope in the deeds of our children and grand children, lest evil seek out the flame and extinguish it. It is my feeling, and that also of my father's, that the days of my time will be evermore hard. I pass short thought of the days of my son, for I will hope to pass onto him days that will be better.
I grow weary as this night reaches for the morning. A light rain is falling, just enough to allow water to run off the roof in its melody. I will sleep now, if I can on a comfortable mat. I have grown used to the wild, where if there is no rock or twig jamming me in the back, I feel something is out of place. Yet I am tired, and I look forth to seeing my beloved again.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Víressë, 27th day
The sun broke through the cloud that had poured forth rain all night. Only now did it cease, with the trickle of water still running from the roof. Bright it was though, and I am readying to go to the common room for a small meal. I am sure my father awaits me. I hope to be home tomorrow in the arms of my wife, and the next day, to spar swords with my son.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Lótessë, 9th day
Time home has been a blessing! Yet it seems so fleeting. My eldest son has become a man in my absence, and I have decide that he will ride with me back to Bree so he can see his grandfather. My daughter is blossoming into womanhood, and my youngest son has grown straight up. Soon too he will be a man full grown and ready to ride, but for now he studies the lore and trains in weaponry. Sparring with him and his brother was such a joy, especially when I see they lack not in their cunning and vigilance.
Yes, the time has gone by so fast, and again we are summoned. I was meaning to write of my days afield while at home, but it was the farthest thing from my mind that I could not take it upon myself to pick up the quill. Let me just say that the unquiet nights whispers of the stirring evil in the east, and it will likely be there where we go. Ever vigilant must we be on the eastern watch, and also to the north, for the wisps of the darkness of Angmar linger long, awaiting their day to arise unseen. But we watch evermore.
It is late, and I will rest this last night holding my wife. For in the morning light we ride.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Lótessë, 10th day
Setting ou tin the morning dew was bittersweet. I look long on the dark curls flowing free about her shoulders as she wraps her arms tight around herself to ward off the chill. Only moments before we were warm, in an embrace I wished would never end. Arathorn was eager to ride, but I was not. The days were growing dark, and the Rangers were evermore hard pressed to watch and protect. Still, it was time to go. With a whisper and a kiss, I turned my horse and we rode away.
We would go to Bree, and we will gather at the Prancing Pony Inn. There we would talk and decide where we should go. There were too many places and not enough Rangers, but this was the way of the Dunedain of the north, ever since the dark dais of the Gladden, when Isildur, his sons, and army were wiped out oh so long ago. Will we ever recover from that? Can the days get darker than that? I look to Arathorn and watch him as we ride. His senses were keen, and his horse well-mannered. I see the future in him, but I am weighted by a feeling he will not see the fullness of his days.
But enough of such thoughts. The day was growing bright even if clouds began to obscure the newly-risen sun. We would be in Bree soon, and it will be a joyous time, especially for Arathorn, for he has not seen his grandfather Arahad in many years. He has grown up.
We had time to rest, and each Ranger that was not on watch were allowed to return to their families. It was a welcome relief, for days had been long and the miles hard. My father and I stopped in the town of Bree for a bit of rest. He was going to stay here when I go tomorrow to my wife and sons, still a day's ride away. It will be a blessed time, and I know my eldest son Arathorn will be eager to tell me and show me all he has learned. I long for his eagerness of youth, something that seems to leave a man soon after he becomes a Ranger. He will be one soon, and I dread what his days will bring. But I rest for now, writing my thoughts, for it is my fear that rest will be something we will not find much of in years ahead. Why? I don't know why. I only have a feeling in my gut.
It was a feeling that only grew worse when, as we relaxed this evening with an ale, enjoying some bread and cheese at this fine Inn, the Prancing Pony of Bree, that my father told me he was too old to be riding so long. Age had crept up on him in the exceeding lines about his eyes, and the once dark curled locks were well peppered with silver. Here, for the first time, at hearing his words, I could see in him that his days were short.
Mother had passed a few years before. I have yet to write about this, for it had pained me to ponder. But her passing had affected father more, for when mother passed, she took a part of my father with her. He remained strong as our chieftain, but evermore did he lean on me after that time. I knew then that my day of becoming chieftain was fast approaching. He again expressed his confidence in my being able to lead, pointing out that I had been second in command for twenty years now. I can't say I look forward to being chieftain, but it is the destiny of first-born of the line of Isildur, heir of Elendil. I cannot see it, but I can feel that in days long ahead, well past my days, all that we have held to in our heritage will come to fruit.
We talked of this a little this night, of a glimmer of hope warmed us from inside. A warmth that spoke silently to us of the great deeds of our forefathers, and or hope in the deeds of our children and grand children, lest evil seek out the flame and extinguish it. It is my feeling, and that also of my father's, that the days of my time will be evermore hard. I pass short thought of the days of my son, for I will hope to pass onto him days that will be better.
I grow weary as this night reaches for the morning. A light rain is falling, just enough to allow water to run off the roof in its melody. I will sleep now, if I can on a comfortable mat. I have grown used to the wild, where if there is no rock or twig jamming me in the back, I feel something is out of place. Yet I am tired, and I look forth to seeing my beloved again.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Víressë, 27th day
The sun broke through the cloud that had poured forth rain all night. Only now did it cease, with the trickle of water still running from the roof. Bright it was though, and I am readying to go to the common room for a small meal. I am sure my father awaits me. I hope to be home tomorrow in the arms of my wife, and the next day, to spar swords with my son.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Lótessë, 9th day
Time home has been a blessing! Yet it seems so fleeting. My eldest son has become a man in my absence, and I have decide that he will ride with me back to Bree so he can see his grandfather. My daughter is blossoming into womanhood, and my youngest son has grown straight up. Soon too he will be a man full grown and ready to ride, but for now he studies the lore and trains in weaponry. Sparring with him and his brother was such a joy, especially when I see they lack not in their cunning and vigilance.
Yes, the time has gone by so fast, and again we are summoned. I was meaning to write of my days afield while at home, but it was the farthest thing from my mind that I could not take it upon myself to pick up the quill. Let me just say that the unquiet nights whispers of the stirring evil in the east, and it will likely be there where we go. Ever vigilant must we be on the eastern watch, and also to the north, for the wisps of the darkness of Angmar linger long, awaiting their day to arise unseen. But we watch evermore.
It is late, and I will rest this last night holding my wife. For in the morning light we ride.
____________________________________________________________________
Year 2718 of the Third Age, month of Lótessë, 10th day
Setting ou tin the morning dew was bittersweet. I look long on the dark curls flowing free about her shoulders as she wraps her arms tight around herself to ward off the chill. Only moments before we were warm, in an embrace I wished would never end. Arathorn was eager to ride, but I was not. The days were growing dark, and the Rangers were evermore hard pressed to watch and protect. Still, it was time to go. With a whisper and a kiss, I turned my horse and we rode away.
We would go to Bree, and we will gather at the Prancing Pony Inn. There we would talk and decide where we should go. There were too many places and not enough Rangers, but this was the way of the Dunedain of the north, ever since the dark dais of the Gladden, when Isildur, his sons, and army were wiped out oh so long ago. Will we ever recover from that? Can the days get darker than that? I look to Arathorn and watch him as we ride. His senses were keen, and his horse well-mannered. I see the future in him, but I am weighted by a feeling he will not see the fullness of his days.
But enough of such thoughts. The day was growing bright even if clouds began to obscure the newly-risen sun. We would be in Bree soon, and it will be a joyous time, especially for Arathorn, for he has not seen his grandfather Arahad in many years. He has grown up.