Times challenge : Day
Title: Three Days - a triptych of drabbles
Author: Kortirion
Character: Estel, Halbarad, Dunedain
Rating: Violence
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien created these characters and this world - Kortirion just visits
The day before his first lengthy patrol, Estel was told to prepare for several nights in the wilds of Rhudaur. They were following the Hoarwell north from the Angle, maybe venturing as far east as the Coldfells at the feet of the Misty Mountains. It would depend on who they met, but the object was to introduce him and the other newcomer, Halbarad, to the lands their ancestors had once ruled… although those days were long gone.
‘We are descended from the Kings of Arnor. Though that Kingdom’s day has passed, we Dunedain still remember our duty. Never forget that.’
The day was cold, but unremarkable. They were allowed a small fire, shielded by the rocks they’d camped among the previous night. Breakfast was oat porridge shared between them from the pot. Estel wondered afterwards if that’s what attracted the wild men… the smell of food, or the woodsmoke…
It happened so quickly, from eating… they were fighting. Almost surrounded, they found themselves backed towards the cliffs. Halbarad, the best archer, scrambled to higher ground and picked off the leaders. Then Estel’s days in the combat-yards of Imladris proved worthwhile. He didn’t think, he fought… but afterwards… he was shaking.
The day afterwards - they paused by a fast stream running down to the far away Hoarwell. Estel still had dried blood on his hands; caked under his fingernails… he could smell the stench of iron. It made his stomach turn. They had lost no one, but there had been injuries, the older men seemed stoic about gashes, stitches, and one’s broken arm; they talked quietly, but Halbarad and Estel remained silent. They were white-faced, nervous.
‘Go on, wash your hands in the water, lad,’ said one, ‘I can’t tell you you’ll get used to it… but you will… one day.’
Author: Kortirion
Character: Estel, Halbarad, Dunedain
Rating: Violence
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien created these characters and this world - Kortirion just visits
The day before his first lengthy patrol, Estel was told to prepare for several nights in the wilds of Rhudaur. They were following the Hoarwell north from the Angle, maybe venturing as far east as the Coldfells at the feet of the Misty Mountains. It would depend on who they met, but the object was to introduce him and the other newcomer, Halbarad, to the lands their ancestors had once ruled… although those days were long gone.
‘We are descended from the Kings of Arnor. Though that Kingdom’s day has passed, we Dunedain still remember our duty. Never forget that.’
The day was cold, but unremarkable. They were allowed a small fire, shielded by the rocks they’d camped among the previous night. Breakfast was oat porridge shared between them from the pot. Estel wondered afterwards if that’s what attracted the wild men… the smell of food, or the woodsmoke…
It happened so quickly, from eating… they were fighting. Almost surrounded, they found themselves backed towards the cliffs. Halbarad, the best archer, scrambled to higher ground and picked off the leaders. Then Estel’s days in the combat-yards of Imladris proved worthwhile. He didn’t think, he fought… but afterwards… he was shaking.
The day afterwards - they paused by a fast stream running down to the far away Hoarwell. Estel still had dried blood on his hands; caked under his fingernails… he could smell the stench of iron. It made his stomach turn. They had lost no one, but there had been injuries, the older men seemed stoic about gashes, stitches, and one’s broken arm; they talked quietly, but Halbarad and Estel remained silent. They were white-faced, nervous.
‘Go on, wash your hands in the water, lad,’ said one, ‘I can’t tell you you’ll get used to it… but you will… one day.’