2 - Youth - Drums in the Night

Drums!

Drums rolled in the distance and the squealing and grunting of orcish throats could be heard in the distance, quickly approaching. Drums meant trolls – this her father had taught her. And trolls meant lethal danger! Rómeniêl steadied herself, fear flickering in the young girl’s eyes.

She was tall and slender, no sign of war yet on her though always taught to wield a weapon since she could hold one. A grave elderly man stood by her side sternly nodding in silent acknowledgement – her father. This was her test, her first test of strength and will, which he had set her on.

The girl was not yet grown into a full woman, but no child either. "Rómeniêl, straighten your back and never lower your sword. Trolls will bring the world down upon you, ward your head, and move quickly… they are slow to turn but quick in swinging their arms." She nodded, Rómeniêl's heart pounding within her. Her knees shook slightly, but she was determined not to let it show in front of her father. His only child, his heir, the one that was brought up to fulfil the oath that her family had pledged! Only now she began to understand what that oath would mean to her life. Yet she was to decide, if she would follow all those that preceded her, after this battle. All her life's thread hung at this battle, this one test.

Rómeniêl turned her head to each side, seeing the stern complexion of her father's men and their readied bodies. Sweat of anxiety trickled from her forehead, down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt of the plains. The sound of drums now pounding in her ears, the trolls now seen not only heard. The odds seemed not good, for her father's rangers were but a dozen men against 5 trolls approaching, followed by at least twice the number of orcs as they were. Yet she knew that those men were able and had survived worse. This was a sport for them, even if it was a deadly one – for either side.

It would be seconds until they would engage into battle, but they seemed to stretch into eternity. An elderly soldier, whom she had known all her life, laid an encouraging hand on her shoulder and smiled. She returned the smile and her heart seemed to calm. "Kill the orc drummers first. You'll manage my dear child." This man had always been a kind mentor to her, whenever her father was stern and scolded her for minor mistakes.

Now the drumming filled all the air and shook everyone to the bone. Her father's men let out battle cries and Rómeniêl joined into them. They stormed forward into the darkness of night screaming. The clashing of steel upon steel, steel upon bone soon filled the air and the sound of drums.

All her fears were forgotten and she wielded her sword against an orc that ran onto her, thrusting it deep into his throat. Black blood gushed from his throat and mouth and covered her blade and hands. Orc stench filled the air and burnt her nostrils. Within the darkness of the night she wielded her blade, soon half blind by the blood that covered her face. Orcs fell around her as she heard the rangers raging. Some of her father's men were already badly wounded but still fighting on, wielding their weapons fending off trolls. The trolls, the huge, bulky, grey creatures, soon were not accompanied by drumming anymore, for the orc drummers that had urged them forward were dead.

The minutes stretched even more as the battlefield was quenched from the drumming. A huge troll approached Rómeniêl and she ducked, uppering her sword to fend his blow off. The huge hand of the troll swung to one side and hit her, sending her flying through the air. She landed hard and felt that some of her rips were broken as she heavily drew breath, unable to move for a second. The troll rushed at her and lifted his hand for a final blow as the figure of a man towered above her all of the sudden, swinging a halberd to defend her. She moaned and tried to stumble to her knees, searching for her sword that she had let go. As another troll came up from behind. Rómeniêl screamed on top of her lungs, making her chest throb with pain. It was too late. The second troll crushed the man that had just saved her from the final blow. He fell, slowly it seemed for Rómeniêl's widened eyes, to the ground his body broken by the stone that the troll had landed upon his head. His helmet was dented and blood flooded down his face as he fell back upon Rómeniêl, burying her beneath him, warding her one last time from the trolls, who now turned away, thinking both of them dead.

A wave of desperation ran through Rómeniêl's body and she looked into the veiling eyes of her beloved mentor. "You'll manage my dear child," he muttered under his last breath, with a last smile upon his lips, placing his halberd into her hand as the light left his eyes.

With a scream of desperation and anger Rómeniêl gathered all the air and courage that was left in her and lifted steadying herself upon the halberd. Then she rushed forward with full speed and thrust the halberd into the back of the troll that had just thrown the stone at her friend. No fear was left there and as she once more struck the troll from behind; screaming still the first light of the sun came up and reflected on the tip of her halberd. The battle was over as the sunlight touched the remaining trolls and turned them to stone.

Stopping all the sudden at this sight Rómeniêl fell to her knees crying. She sobbed and looked into the light of the arising day. Incredible pain surged through her slender body. As the light of the sun hit her water filled eyes she knew her destiny.

Slowly and carefully she raised herself, wiping the tears away. Noble and grave as hewn stone her figure could be seen standing against the dawning sky until the light was fully up. She walked over the battlefield, tending to the wounded. She ignored her own pain, her own wounds and her own sorrow. Then walked over the plain looking for her fallen friend. Lifting him up from the place the rangers had placed him and burying him on top of the hill where the first light of day had saved them all. Then she took up his halberd, tied it to her back, turned and an air was about her as she walked back to her father's camp knowing that there was an oath to pledge.

1 - Youth - Revalations

The day was grey and the sky hung full of clouds. A girl sat with her legs pulled to herself, the green cloak pulled tightly around her. She looked over the Bruinen and watched as autumnally leafs fell into the stream and tumbled along the rippling waves.

She obviously pouted and picked up a stone once in a while tossing it into the stream with all her might, watching as it sunk.

Elven voices were heard in the distance and she knew all too well, what they said. It only made her pout more. Angrily she tucked at her dress, growling, struggling with the fabric, trying to wrap it around her legs, to fit her more like trousers. She rubbed the bruises on her legs and scratches.

After some time a stern, tall man arrived – her father. Standing behind the young girl, his arms crossed and a raised brow directed her way, even if she kept looking at the Bruinen. “Rómeniêl,” his voice was stern as he addressed her and stepped closer. “Turn around and face me, young lady.” A suppressed anger swung in his voice and ordered more than asked. But Rómeniêl kept her eyes fixed on the Bruinen, pursing her lips and taking a firm hold of another stone tossing it angrily into the stream.

“Rómeniêl Arandil, turn to me and look at me!” The voice of the impressive man behind her became angrier, hardly able to suppress the anger. She knew she was her father’s challenge, but she had set her mind not to give in this time. She was silent and just tossed another pebble into the stream. “Child! Turn around and talk to me. I will not accept such behaviour of anyone of the line of the Arandil.”

Something snapped in her and she growled, opening her mouth a couple of times to take short angry breaths of cool air in. “Of the line of the Arandil! The Elendili! Your blood! The protectors of the line of kings!” her voice was clear and angry, it almost sounded like that of a woman rather than a child’s. “Father, I’ve heard all that before. Where is that line of the king? Whom would you protect if all of that line was gone. No, you prefer him before me!”

Falling silent again she took another stone, holding it in her hand, squeezing it as if she could crush it. “You make me wear these dresses and try to cage me. If all this Arandil business is so important and with all the training, why am I not allowed to do as he does? I was able to hold on to the wild horse while he fell of and broke his leg.”

Now she turned towards her father, staring into his grey eyes with her green. She held the stern gaze that could so easily defy any word of argument with his own men. She was wilful they said, stubborn and wild. She ran with the Elves and took on the challenges set to the young Elves and to him. “You prefer Estel before me! You would give all to make him your son and be rid of me!” She now screamed at her father and tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lips and tightened the grip around the stone in her hand. She didn’t want to cry in front of her father, but the tears made their way out and streamed down her face, filled with anger.

The lordly, stern man took a step back for a moment, almost stumbling, and his expression faltered. The stern look on his face softened and made way for surprise, even shock. He looked down at her, defeat in his eyes.  Only slowly he recovered but the stern expression was gone, as he stepped closer, squatting down and examining the face of his daughter. “Child,” his voice had grown quiet and soft. “You don’t understand. You are my daughter, my only child; never would I trade you for anything. But he- he is the hope of our people. You will understand one day. Isn’t he like a brother to you?”

Rómeniêl turned abruptly away from the hand he tried to lay on her shoulder and tossed her long dark hair back. He was right, Estel was more than a friend, more than a comrade in play and more than just a kinsman. After all they had been the only human children on their journey to Rivendell and they had both been the only human children in Rivendell itself. How lonely had she been when her father had taken her to Gondor on one of his journeys. But she was not willing to admit defeat yet, determined to stay angry for now.

The Captain of the Rangers sat beside his daughter and looked into the stream as she had done. “It is time to tell you a tale.” He spoke softly now and from the corner of her eye, she could see that he battled with himself again. She felt almost sorry, but still was too hurt and stubborn to show it.

“Our people have lived hidden and still do. Once we were a great people, you have heard the tales of Númenor. But as the days darkened we failed. Only few of us remain and the line of kings is endangered. You have learned this and you know it, your mother has taught you well in the lore of our people and you always had been an eager leaner of lore, as you have been skilled with all the challenges put before you.” Some pride rang in his voice, though his face stayed calm. “Estel and you have been the only children of our kind in Rivendell for long and I know you asked me so often. There is a reason and it will be a burden for you. But time has come to reveal what not even Estel knows. You will have to be what we Arandils are – a secret keeper. Will you do that?” He turned to her and his eyes seemed sad. Rómeniêl had never seen her father that concerned other in the moments that he had been called for council with Lord Elrond or his men. She just nodded and held his gaze. “Let me tell you a story, my child.”

Rómeniêl’s father looked into the Bruinen again and began to tell a story of how once a child was born, that gave the Dúnedain hope. He spoke of the line of kings of Arathorn, the last king of the Elendili, the chieftain of the Rangers of the North. He spoke of the ring of Barahir and how it was hunted by orcs, trying to bring down the line of the kings, of Sauron. Rómeniêl knew the names, knew the tales, but in her heart she realised that there was more behind all this, that hadn’t been told to her. Sighing he finally added: “I was a young captain and my father had put high hopes in me. I, like all men of my line, had vowed to protect the line of kings. Arathorn had trusted his life and that of his family to me, as had all chieftains before into our family. I wasn’t able to save him, but I was able to save his son and his wife. We accompanied Elrohir and Eladan to Rivendell to keep him and you safe. I wouldn’t leave you or your mother behind. For I love you too much.”

“Estel is the name given to that child after we left our home. After we fled and after his father was killed. His father, the chieftain of the Rangers of the North, was our king. Estel is the name given to him, but it is not the name he was born with, not the name he will carry once more in many years. His true name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn of the line of the kings.”

The news hit her like a fist in the stomach and young Rómeniêl gasped. Her father raised his hands to her lips to silence her questions. “I failed the king. I will not fail his heir. Many years ago, Estel’s father fell and we had to bring him here. I didn’t want to leave you and your mother behind. It is the oath of our family to protect the line of the kings. And as Arathorn fell, so the line of kings is threatened. You will understand one day what meaning it has. But for now you will have to be quiet.”

His hand stroked over her wet cheeks and wiped her tears away. “Another burden for you my child. The life of the Dúnedain is a hard life and it might have hardened my heart too much already for the sorrows and burdens a girl can take on. Estel is mine to protect, I cannot fail him and I cannot even allow my own daughter to put him at risk.”

Rómeniêl swallowed hard and cast her eyes down, her face flushed and she bit her lips harder, trying to force the tears of guilt that replaced the tears of anger down. “I’m sorry Ada. But I,” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to put him in danger, but I wanted to prove that I am just as skilled as him. I wanted to prove I’m worth your love.” She felt the burden she had put on her father. “Estel doesn’t know who he is? And I’m not allowed to tell him? Will I have to protect him one day?”

Her head was swimming and she turned the stone she held in her fingers. Her father took her hand and the stone, dropping it aside. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “No word to him. No word to anyone than me or your mother. Promise that you will not put him in danger like that anymore. I will not ask you to protect him, don’t put yourself or him into danger.”

The concern in his voice triggered something in her. For the first time in her life Rómeniêl felt a sense of purpose and she felt for the first time, that he didn’t love him more. Her father, whom so often seemed cold and distant loved her. It dawned to her mind that his distance was a way to protect her. She nodded and agreed. “I promise, Ada. Not a word shall slip my lips about this. Will you tell him one day?”

Her father shook his head. “No, Lord Elrond will do so when and if the time comes. Then he will hopefully become what he was born to be – the hope of the Free People and the King of Men.”

Introduction - The World of Rómeniêl Arandil

To better understand Rómeniêl I'd like to give an introduction to her background. The following pieces of writing are solely for those who wish to know something of Tolkien's idea of who the Dúnedain are, who the rangers are and why relationships between Men and Elves are always slightly tragic.

Of the Elendili

This tale tells in short of the Elendili, to whom Rómeniêl belongs.

When the First Age of the Sun was ended and the power of Morgoth was broken, there remained but a remnant of the race of Men called the Edain, who were allies of the Elves in the terrible Wars of Beleriand. So the Valar took pity with those Edain, after the Great Battle were they had suffered badly and where their land was lost. So the Valar created an island in the Western Sea, set between Middle-Earth and the Undying Lands. Along with this land the remaining Edain were gifted with long life and greater powers of mind and body, along with many skills and knowledge that had only been granted to the Elves before. Being changed this way they were forth known as the Númenorians, for their land was called Númenor or Westernesse. But some even called it Andar "Land of the Gifts", Elenna "Land of the Star" or Atalante.

In the Second Age of the Sun the deeds of the Númenorians were great and outstanding. First of their kings was Elros, brother of Elrond, who had chosen a mortal life. Yet he ruled 400 years. The Númenorians sailed all over the world, even to the Gates of Morning in the East, but they weren’t allowed to sail West to the Undying Lands of Eldamar.

But though the people of Númenor prospered, a new darkness arose in Middle-Earth. the great servant of Morgoth, Sauron, had returned and many men in the South and Eastern Lands worshipped him. In this time falls the tale of the making of the Rings of Power and when Sauron made the One Ring. He covered all the land with darkness and battled the Elves and slew many of them. But the power of the Men of Númenor had grown and they came to the aid of the Elves and made war upon Sauron and he was drive West. For some time there was peace again, but the Númenrians became proud and wished to declare themselves Lords of Middle-Earth as well as lords of the sea. So close to the end of the Second Age they came to the land of Mordor, where Sauron dwelt and he could not withstand their forces. So he came from his tower and surrendered to the Númenoreans. He was made prisoner and bound in chains at the tower of the king of Númenor.

But Sauron proved to be a deceiver, his plan was to achieve by guile what he could not achieve by force. He had perceived the fatal flaw of pride and ambition, so he hoped to tempt them with his gifts of power. Sauron achieved his goal and corrupted the Númenorian king Ar-Phararzôn. He built temples for the Dark Lord and even sacrificed humans to him. The king’s followers that later survived the Downfall of Númenor were called the Black Númenoreans ever after and were dreaded all over the World. Only a small group of Númenorians remained loyal and faithful to their old ways.

Finally Sauron advised the king to make war upon the Valar and Eldar in the Undying Lands. Ar-Pharazôn sent out the greatest fleet ever seen in Middle-Earth, they even reached the Undying Lands but lay a doom on themselves by this. The Pelorí Mountains came down upon the king and his army and all the men of Númenor were last. The mountain in the middle of Númenor, the Meneltarma, from whom the Undying Lands could be seen, erupted and distroyed the island. Thus came the Change of the World. For still in the Second Age, the Undying Lands were set apart from the Cirlce of the World and moved beyond the reach of any but the Chosen, who travelled on Elven ships along the Straight Road.

Yet a part of the Númenoreans lived on. They were the last of the loyal and faithful. They followed Elendil, and were called the "Elendili" - "The Faithfull" - because they were never corrupted by Sauron and had refused to abandon the ancient ways of the Eldar and Valar. They came to Middle-Earth in nine ships and made the two mighty kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor.


If we speak of the Dúnedain in the Third Age, we mean the remainants of the Númenareans in Middle-Earth, but most often meaning the Elendili.

Rangers

Best known of Human Rangers in Middle-Earth were the Rangers of Ithilien and the Rangers of the North. They are distinct in appearance and both are mentioned in “The Lord of the Rings”.

Rómeniêl grew up to serve her king, which is Aragorn. She actually is an “Arandil”- a king’s friend – which is a term used by Tolkien, but I took the liberty of making it a title for the family she hails from.

She joined the Rangers of the North in her teens, despite her father’s wish. She does not always resemble those rangers anymore, though of their ranks and being one of their highly honoured Captains.

Rangers of the North

The lands of Eriodor were secretly protected by the Rangers of the North in the Third Age of the Sun. Those Rangers were most often men, mostly grey-eyed and dark-haired and grim-faced. They were clothed in cloaks of green and grey, with clasps of silver stars, armed with sword and spear and wearing long leather boots.

Most common folks in Eriador just called them Rangers and thought them unfriendly, strange people, for they often wandered silently all over Eriador on foot or on strange shaggy horses. Most common folk did not know were those Rangers came from and whence they went.

Only few knew that the Rangers were the last remaining knights and nobles of the Dúnedain of Arnor and that their chieftain was the High Dúnedain king.In the years before and after the War of The Ring that was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who as a Ranger was called Strider.

Rangers of Ithilien

Also in the Third Age of the Sun there was a brotherhood of Rangers formed under the Stewart of Gondor. Those were called the Rangers of Ithilien.

These were knights of Gondor, dressed in green and fighting with swords, spear and bow. They were less often abroad and less feared for it was known that they were knights of Gondor.


Their greatest dwelling were the hidden caves and tunnels behind a waterfall overlooking the Vales of Anduin, at Henneth Annûn.

Of Elwing and Earendil - or: Love Between Men and Elves

One of the most thrilling love stories that Tolkien invented and that is rarely ever known is the story of Elwing and Earendil. Funny thing is, that it seems that all the great love stories can be found in the families deriving from Thingol's (Elwe Singollo) and Melian the Maiar's family.  The climax to those love stories is found in the "Lord of the Rings" with the Union of Arwen and Aragorn.

Elwing the White was princess of Doriath and daughter of King Dior (son of Beren and Luthien) and Queen Nimloth of Doriath. Being the only one to survive the assault of Menegroth she inherited one of the Silmarils -the one that Beren had taken from Melkor's crown.

Being pursuit by the sons of Feanor she found refuge in the Haven of Arvernien, where she met and married Earendil the Mariner and gave birth to her sons: Elrond and Elros. But the Noldor learned that the Silmaril was with her and thus attacked again. Seeing no other option to safe her sons, she threw herself into the sea with the Silmaril. Ulmo the Lord of Waters intervened and changed her into a white seabird, carrying the Silmaril in her beak to fly across the Ocean to find her husband.

With him she found a way to pass through the Shadowy Sea to the Undying Lands. The Valar could not decide if they allowed Earendil and Elwing to set foot upon the land for it was not allowed for mortals to set foot there. The reason for that is that Illuvatar has set the fate of his Children apart.

But Earendil was son of Tuor, a mortal Man, and Idril of Gondolin, an Elven Lady - thus he was Half-Elven. Elwing had mortal blood, as well as that of a Maiar and an Elf in her, so she was counted as immortal. The Valar impressed by the faith and courage of the couple allowed them to speak before them, but setting a doom upon Earendil.

Elwing begged the Valar to help Middle-Earth and the remaining Edain, so they intervened with the fate of Middle-Earth set out an army of Valar and Maiar, along with the Elves of Eldamar to help against the Dark Forces. In that battle Earendil fought on his ship Vingilot with the Silmaril bound to his brow, giving his ship the ability to fly. So he could overcome Ancalagon, the greatest of all dragons.

As a reward Earendil was allowed to lead the surviving of the Edain, Mortal Men that had fought against the Dark Lord, to Númenor. But Earendil having stepped unto the Undying Lands was bound to his ship Vingilot and destined to sail the firmament. From now on called the Evening Star and "the flame of the west" -ever carrying the Silmaril on his brow to shine down from the night sky.

Elwing herself, being of immortal rather than mortal blood, was allowed to reside in Eldamar. There she made her home in a tower on the nothern coast, and each night as Earendil's ship draws near the western horizon, turns into a white bird flying to greet and join with her husband.

The fate of their children was sealed by those two reaching Valinor, because the Valar decided that there should never be any who could step upon Valinor not being of Elfkind. Thus the sons of Earendil and Elwing had to decide as with what kindred they would live. Elrond (father of Arwen) decided for the life of an Elf, later founding Rivendell. Elros (ancestor of Aragorn), choose a mortal life and became the first ruling king of Númenor. Not all his offspring are accounted in the Silmarillion, just those that actually took over the throne.

Thus the Valar laid a doom on any that choose to mingle the blood of Elves and Men, that the immortal Elves would have to choose a mortal life if they married Men.

An Intro to an Intro

I have to thank some friends for their encouragement to sit down and post a blog with my fanfiction.

I have been writing fanfiction all around Tolkien's world for a good many years - it could easily be 10 and more.
I love Tolkien and I certainly don't want to butcher his work. I have created a little space for myself in his world and have come up with many ideas that are all woven into his creation.

I am currently playing with the idea of putting all the different short stories I wrote into a timeline and a context, so that it might one day turn into a well rounded storyline.

The other project is bringing the work of Tolkien and Tolkien himself into touch with Rómeniêl's history. I am not sure if that'll work though.

But no matter what - here I am!

So it begins...