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b2memB2MeM Prompt: Animals (Green Path), 2007 Alphabet – like a hale Halbarad
Format: short story
Genre: family, adventure
Rating:PG
Warnings:Only if bears need to be warned for. 😃
Characters: Halbarad, Dúnedain Rangers (LOTRO), OCs
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): This takes place in my Arnor-verse, with influences from Lord of the Rings Online. You do not have to be familiar with the game to read this. Written for the prompt “Animals” and also as I’m trying to catch up with a few of last year’s “Memories” prompts, for “like a hale Halbarad”.
Summary: Halbarad, fifteen-year-old scion of the Rangers, never expected to be sent so far from his home, for an entire season. But in the settlement of Esteldín, he finds more than he bargained for.
Summer TA 2941, Esteldín, North Downs, Arnor
Halbarad, elder son of Handoron and Lady Arneth, had never yet been far from Tâduin - the farming village of Two Rivers, home of the immediate family of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain. His home was an unassuming place in the Angle – the Enemy would overlook it as unimportant, surely. But his tutors, particularly Uncle Taithir, would never let him forget that once, the scions of Númenor had built cities and strongholds of stone. Now, fifteen summers old and ready to see the wider world, he expected to see such places at last.
Esteldín, hidden in a rift valley of the Kingsfell Mountains, had never been intended as a settlement of great size. Still, the fortress which sat upon the ruins of ancient Dolindîr was well-built, even if most of the dwellings were tents. As the folk of Esteldín gathered for supper, he was shown where to place his own tent.
At the meal, the young Dúnadan found himself too excited to focus on eating. He couldn’t wait to explore. But that had to wait for the morrow, so he spent the evening being introduced to the Rangers, crafters and trainers all, hoping to remember their names. Finally, he fell into bed, exhausted.
The old crafting-hall of Dolindîr had been rebuilt, and as Halbarad stepped through the doors, he had to shade his eyes. The forges blazed with fire brighter than that of any dragon – he had never yet seen its like. Swords, spears and even hammers were wrought there; jewels of great worth were cut and shaped at some of the workbenches, while armourers worked with metal and leather at others, and tailors plied their own crafts.
The jewelsmith, Daemirdan, held particular fascination for him. Halbarad watched intently as Master Daemirdan fashioned jewels of bright clarity, setting them into earrings, bracelets and rings of many precious metals. But the sweat dripped from his brown in the unaccustomed heat, and Daemirdan flashed the lad a look as he mopped his brow. “If you can’t take the heat, lad, best be on your way,” he grunted. “Outside’s the best place for such as you.”
Stung, Halbarad turned away, face flushed with more than the fire’s heat. Daemirdan’s wife, Mistress Tadhrien, snorted derisively. “Pay him no mind, Halbarad,” she said. “You’re certainly welcome in here, especially if you wish to learn a craft. I’m of the mind to take an apprentice myself.”
Tadhrien’s offer was tempting, Halbarad had to admit. The idea of learning to craft his own spears and bows would serve him well, and it would serve Tâduin. He could contribute little by making jewelry as Daemirdan did. He begged leave to think it over, which was granted, and retired to Esteldín’s library to gather his thoughts.
The library was not so grand as the archive he’d heard was kept by Master Elrond in Imladris, he was sure. Still, looking around he felt nothing but awe. Such books and scrolls he had never seen in all his life before, he was certain.
He found himself drawn to a slender volume, the Narn-en-El, or Tale of the Star. Taking it down carefully, he seated himself and began to read. Absorbed in the story of his longfather, Halbarad didn’t look up until something cold and wet poked in between his shoulder blades, and he heard a growl – yes, growl – causing him to cry out in surprise.
A laugh greeted his reaction, and Halbarad spun round, hand flying to his hip. But the young Man standing before him raised his hands in a defensive stance. “Peace, brother Dúnadan! I am Gwalothir, and am but a humble student of lore.” The brown beast standing beside him nosed Gwalothir affectionately. “And this,” Gwalothir carried on, “is Melui, and she is more trouble than she is worth.”
Melui growled again.
Halbarad’s brows had nearly met his hairline when he first noticed what Melui was. “You…have a bear in the library.”
“She’s tame.”
“A bear.”
Gwalothir shrugged. “She likes me. She likes you, too. I could tell.” He looked at the book Halbarad had dropped. “Or perhaps she likes Eärendil. I’m sure I don’t know.” He picked up the Narn-en-El and handed it back. “I apologise,” he added belatedly. “I did not mean to frighten you, kinsman.”
“Halbarad. My name is Halbarad, son of Handoron,” Halbarad managed to get out at last. “At your service.”
Gwalothir laughed joyously. “Then we are kinsmen indeed, son of Handoron! For Nestadam, my mother, is cousin to Handoron. Did he not come with you?”
Halbarad shook his head. “No. I came with the Esteldín Rangers who wintered in Tâduin,” he explained.
“Ah.” Gwalothir nodded. “A pity. I was hoping to show him how much Melui had grown since he saw her last.”
“You have a pet bear,” Halbarad repeated in disbelief.
“If cousin Handoron tells me true, you have an entire clan of bears in Taduin,” Gwalothir retorted with an easy grin.
“Skin-changers,” Halbarad said idly. “That isn’t the same thing.” Still, he took the hand his kinsman offered, and allowed Gwalothir to draw him back out into the sunshine. Nestadam, the healer for all of Esteldin, would want to be sure he hadn’t been unduly harmed by his shock!
All the while, Melui padded along behind, looking rather pleased with herself as she investigated her young master’s friend for treats.
This would be a very interesting summer indeed.
Format: short story
Genre: family, adventure
Rating:PG
Warnings:Only if bears need to be warned for. 😃
Characters: Halbarad, Dúnedain Rangers (LOTRO), OCs
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): This takes place in my Arnor-verse, with influences from Lord of the Rings Online. You do not have to be familiar with the game to read this. Written for the prompt “Animals” and also as I’m trying to catch up with a few of last year’s “Memories” prompts, for “like a hale Halbarad”.
Summary: Halbarad, fifteen-year-old scion of the Rangers, never expected to be sent so far from his home, for an entire season. But in the settlement of Esteldín, he finds more than he bargained for.
Summer TA 2941, Esteldín, North Downs, Arnor
Halbarad, elder son of Handoron and Lady Arneth, had never yet been far from Tâduin - the farming village of Two Rivers, home of the immediate family of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain. His home was an unassuming place in the Angle – the Enemy would overlook it as unimportant, surely. But his tutors, particularly Uncle Taithir, would never let him forget that once, the scions of Númenor had built cities and strongholds of stone. Now, fifteen summers old and ready to see the wider world, he expected to see such places at last.
Esteldín, hidden in a rift valley of the Kingsfell Mountains, had never been intended as a settlement of great size. Still, the fortress which sat upon the ruins of ancient Dolindîr was well-built, even if most of the dwellings were tents. As the folk of Esteldín gathered for supper, he was shown where to place his own tent.
At the meal, the young Dúnadan found himself too excited to focus on eating. He couldn’t wait to explore. But that had to wait for the morrow, so he spent the evening being introduced to the Rangers, crafters and trainers all, hoping to remember their names. Finally, he fell into bed, exhausted.
The old crafting-hall of Dolindîr had been rebuilt, and as Halbarad stepped through the doors, he had to shade his eyes. The forges blazed with fire brighter than that of any dragon – he had never yet seen its like. Swords, spears and even hammers were wrought there; jewels of great worth were cut and shaped at some of the workbenches, while armourers worked with metal and leather at others, and tailors plied their own crafts.
The jewelsmith, Daemirdan, held particular fascination for him. Halbarad watched intently as Master Daemirdan fashioned jewels of bright clarity, setting them into earrings, bracelets and rings of many precious metals. But the sweat dripped from his brown in the unaccustomed heat, and Daemirdan flashed the lad a look as he mopped his brow. “If you can’t take the heat, lad, best be on your way,” he grunted. “Outside’s the best place for such as you.”
Stung, Halbarad turned away, face flushed with more than the fire’s heat. Daemirdan’s wife, Mistress Tadhrien, snorted derisively. “Pay him no mind, Halbarad,” she said. “You’re certainly welcome in here, especially if you wish to learn a craft. I’m of the mind to take an apprentice myself.”
Tadhrien’s offer was tempting, Halbarad had to admit. The idea of learning to craft his own spears and bows would serve him well, and it would serve Tâduin. He could contribute little by making jewelry as Daemirdan did. He begged leave to think it over, which was granted, and retired to Esteldín’s library to gather his thoughts.
The library was not so grand as the archive he’d heard was kept by Master Elrond in Imladris, he was sure. Still, looking around he felt nothing but awe. Such books and scrolls he had never seen in all his life before, he was certain.
He found himself drawn to a slender volume, the Narn-en-El, or Tale of the Star. Taking it down carefully, he seated himself and began to read. Absorbed in the story of his longfather, Halbarad didn’t look up until something cold and wet poked in between his shoulder blades, and he heard a growl – yes, growl – causing him to cry out in surprise.
A laugh greeted his reaction, and Halbarad spun round, hand flying to his hip. But the young Man standing before him raised his hands in a defensive stance. “Peace, brother Dúnadan! I am Gwalothir, and am but a humble student of lore.” The brown beast standing beside him nosed Gwalothir affectionately. “And this,” Gwalothir carried on, “is Melui, and she is more trouble than she is worth.”
Melui growled again.
Halbarad’s brows had nearly met his hairline when he first noticed what Melui was. “You…have a bear in the library.”
“She’s tame.”
“A bear.”
Gwalothir shrugged. “She likes me. She likes you, too. I could tell.” He looked at the book Halbarad had dropped. “Or perhaps she likes Eärendil. I’m sure I don’t know.” He picked up the Narn-en-El and handed it back. “I apologise,” he added belatedly. “I did not mean to frighten you, kinsman.”
“Halbarad. My name is Halbarad, son of Handoron,” Halbarad managed to get out at last. “At your service.”
Gwalothir laughed joyously. “Then we are kinsmen indeed, son of Handoron! For Nestadam, my mother, is cousin to Handoron. Did he not come with you?”
Halbarad shook his head. “No. I came with the Esteldín Rangers who wintered in Tâduin,” he explained.
“Ah.” Gwalothir nodded. “A pity. I was hoping to show him how much Melui had grown since he saw her last.”
“You have a pet bear,” Halbarad repeated in disbelief.
“If cousin Handoron tells me true, you have an entire clan of bears in Taduin,” Gwalothir retorted with an easy grin.
“Skin-changers,” Halbarad said idly. “That isn’t the same thing.” Still, he took the hand his kinsman offered, and allowed Gwalothir to draw him back out into the sunshine. Nestadam, the healer for all of Esteldin, would want to be sure he hadn’t been unduly harmed by his shock!
All the while, Melui padded along behind, looking rather pleased with herself as she investigated her young master’s friend for treats.
This would be a very interesting summer indeed.
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