(NOTE:  This was originally written in 2006 for a Beta Contest on GameAmp, an MMOG fansite.  The winner of each category was granted a pass into Closed Beta.  The following saga won First Place in it’s category.  I have gone back and changed a few words to make it scan and read a little better, since the original was written in about 1 hour.  Hope you enjoy it.)

(Five years later)

 
I wake on this day as I have all the others of my life to the sounds of my mother’s singing.

She sings a tune from the time of her youth.  When her and father had yet to meet and the land was still unblemished by the wars to come.  The days when Gondor was at peace….

It seems so long ago. 
The White City comes alive around me as I gather up my weapons and armor and prepare for another day on the walls.  Farmers and merchants shout out their wares to any within hearing.  The call of the Watch each hour to signify that the city is well.  The laughter of the children at play in the streets.  The sounds and the smells that make up the city that I call my home.

I make my way to the wall near the Great Gate and take up my place.  The sun has risen and the fog from the night before has begun to dissipate.  You can see the farmlands of Pelennor from where I stand.  A sea of green enclosed by the Rammas Echor and the river Anduin.  Farmhands have begun to till the soil in preparation for the spring planting.

“Admiring the view?  Nothing compares to it in the morning.”

The voice of the Watch Commander interrupts my thoughts and I turn to face him.

“Just taking a moment to remember what we are protecting.  And all that we will lose if we are not careful.”

He laughs for a moment then speaks again.  “Ever the realist, aren’t you Captain?  I see more of your father in you each and every day.  He was the same.  ‘Protect the City and she’ll..’”

“…protect you.”  I finish.  “I know.  Not a day went by that he didn’t drum that into me.  I guess after 16 years of hearing it, it finally sank in.  After all, look where I am today.”

“Your father was a fine man.  I served on the line with him more than once.  Brave, loyal, and courageous.  Three things that I admired in him.  And you seem to have inherited that as well.”

“Thank you, sir.  It’s nice to know that some still remember him and his deeds.”

“As long as I live, they will.  He saved my life more than once, and I returned that favor as well.  I miss him dearly.  He was a good friend.  A true friend.”

“But enough of this.  I have come to give you new orders.”

He turns and leans against the wall, glancing at the inhabitants of the city that pass us on their way to market.  Taking a quick breath he speaks again.

“You are commissioned to lead a patrol north.  There are reports of bandits harrying some of the villages near the border.  They have been reported to be riding from the Grey Woods and causing problems.  You’re mission is to seek out these brigands and put an end to their thieving.”

“I know the area well.  I have traveled that path many times on previous missions.  It should not be much effort to put an end to a few brigands”, I say.

He looks me in the eyes for a moment.  I feel as if he is judging my words by what he knows of my skill.  He leans in close and speaks barely above a whisper.

“And son, be careful.  I promised your father that I would look out for you.  I would take it very badly if you came to harm when I was not there to prevent it.  Get there, and get back safe.  I would truly hate to deal with your mother’s temper if I had to tell her that you were harmed.”

We both laugh.  My mother’s temper was known far and wide as something that would give even Sauron himself pause.

The rest of the day goes by with uneventfully and I begin my journey back home, mentally making a list of all the things that I will need for the trip.

That and the hardest part of all.  Telling my mother that I am headed to the place that took her husband from her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Part II)

The disadvantage of building a city at the foot of a mountain is that the weather can change in a very short span of time.  I woke today to see the ground covered in new-fallen snow.  And it continues to lazily fall while I gather my belongings and prepare to leave.

If mountains can be said to have a personality, then Mount Mindolluin seems to be a bit upset today.  Looking up at the peak I cannot see the summit for the storm clouds.  Yes, it’s going to be a very harsh day.

I make my way up to the stables and prepare my horse for the journey ahead.  He seems to be as on edge as the mountain.  Twice he tries to nip at me when I am tightening the cinches on the saddle but a firm stroking of his neck in the place that he likes settles him down.  All my packs are secured and I begin to lead him down the road to the Great Gates.
The Great Gates are open and I pass through them.  Dodging the wagons and cattle that are making their way to the Market, I see that I am not the only one in the city that does not appreciate the snow.  Cows can be most disagreeable when they are cold and are forced to walk in snow. 

I mount up and head out to the staging area at the crossroads just outside the Gate.  I see Haldan warming himself by the fire and dismount to speak with him.

“Still having trouble keeping warm, I see.  You’d think that after so many years of this climate you’d be accustomed to the weather.”, I say in a joking tone.

“And you would think that after so many years of living in a blasted mountain city, you would have sprouted wings and feathers to fly home each night.”, he responds while getting to his feet.

“Good to see your disposition doesn’t change with the weather.  Always a warm greeting from a friend.  That is why I keep you around.”

“That and the fact that you don’t sprout arrows out of yer back while I am there ta watch it for ya.”

I close the distance between us and gather him in a warm embrace.

“And for that fact alone I will always keep you around.  Even if you should lose both legs and arms I will just have to strap you to a horse and point you at the road.  The mere sight of you alone will keep the road clear.”

“Now on to business.  Have they all arrived?”, I ask.

“We should be underway shortly.  Sit down for a bit and rest and tell me how that fine woman of a mother of yours is today.”

He sits down next to the fire and motions for me to take the chair next to him.  I gather my cloak about me and take the seat.

“She still has her temper if that is what you mean.  I received a small sample of it when I told here where I was going.  She was not pleased.”

He laughs loudly and slaps his thigh.  A few of the horses nearby start at the sound.

“By my beard, that sounds like the woman I remember.  If only I were 20 years younger and she were a wee bit tamer, I would be on one knee before her today.”

“And on one knee is where you would stay.  She has kept her skill with a blade.  She is a child of Rohan.  The only thing sharper is her tongue.  And you would do well to remember that if you should ever think to offer her your hand.  She may end up taking it.  About halfway up the wrist.”

He smiles at that and responds with a grin, “Ah, but that is the way I like my women.  Full of fire and edge.  And the sharper the tongue the better.  Keeps me wits about me.  Keeps me young.”

“She will never marry again.  Father was her one true love.  And none can compare.  I stopped suggesting she find another after the first swipe of the ladle against my skull.”

He looks down at the fire for a bit and then says softly, “Yer father was a good man.  A good man and a true man.  Not many have I called friend in my life.  And fewer still would I follow to the grave.  He was one.  And I am glad to say that I feel the same way about his son.”  He looks me in the eyes and continues after a pause.

“You remind me of him more and more each day.  I see the same fire in yer eyes that he had.  He would be proud of what you have become.  I know that I am.”

He looks away but not before I catch a single tear begin to form.  I look towards to road and give him time to compose himself.  At that moment, I see the last of the patrol  making their way towards us.

I stand and begin shouting to the commanders to prepare the men for leaving.

 The journey is about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Part III)

I mount my horse and turn to the mass of men gathered and shout, “Commanders!  Form the men. We ride in an hour.  Report to me when you have formed!”

I turn to see that Haldan has mounted as well.

“Gather two others that you trust and head out now.  If all goes well, we will meet again at the Rammach.  If there is trouble ahead, do not engage.  Note strength, speed, weapons and intent if you can.  Then get back to me as fast as you can.  I’ll take it from there.”

“Understood.  Ill take Theomir.   Best tracker I know.  Besides me.  And that brother of his, Wolin.  He can’t track a treant in a desert but he can smell a trap a mile away.  Strength, speed, weapons, intent, and ride fast and hard.  Got it.”

I lean in close and say, “And one last thing.  Get back in one piece.  I would hate to have to patch you up again.”

He smiles at this and replies.  “Patch me up?!  You’ve been mixing up yer stories again.  As I remember it was me  patchin’ you up the last time. Or have ye forgotten’  that bar fight?”

“Not hardly, but it seems to me that you’ve forgotten the one after that.  A certain woman that didn’t take kindly to you assaulting her husband after he caught you…”

He jabs a finger into my chest as he interrupts, “And you know full well that weren’t none of my fault.  Blasted wench never said she was married.  Not even after.  And then this bear of a Bree-man comes bargin’ in the room swinging a club at my head.  Roarin’ so loud ye’d think the Dark Lord himself had pinched him. And you bloody well swore that you’d never bring that up…”

“And I won’t again, if you come back in one piece.  You get yourself killed on my watch and I’ll make sure that story is told at your funeral.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I’d have them carve it on your marker for the next ten generations to laugh about.”

I change my tone back to being serious as I look him in the eyes.

“Be careful.  I’ve too few friends left.  I do not want to lessen their number again.”

He looks back at me and seems to understand.  “Understood.  And you do the same.  I’ve buried more good men than there are trees in Fangorn Forest.  Too many to count.  No more.”

He turns his horse to the camp and shouts, “Theomir!  Wolin!  Mount yer sorry hides!  We ride!”

And at that he stirs his horse and begins to ride.  The two brothers not more than a few strides behind him.

I watch his path until all I can see is the dust from his passing.  That nagging feeling is on me again.  I hope I am wrong this time.
I turn to the camp and see that the commanders are riding towards me. It seems we are ready.
Time to ride.

(To be continued)

My earliest memories of my childhood are of a home filled with music and song.

My mother was a daughter of Rohan and my childhood was filled with the songs of her people.  The deeds of long-dead kings.  The battles and wars that were fought over land, love, or just greed.  She sang to me each night a different song, learned in her childhood, and remembered for years to come.

My father was a son of Gondor and pledged his sword, shield and life to her defense.  Little else can I remember of him but small patches of time when he would be between commands.  These were the times when my mother seemed at her happiest. 

She always used to say that she must have been mad to marry a soldier.  Gone most of the time and rarely home more than a few days.  But my father would just smile, in the way that he always did when mother would get in a mood and remind her that he was hers no matter the distance or time apart.  And no matter how difficult the journey, he would always make it back to her.  My mother would blush at this and swat his cheek.  He would always promise that this was his last tour.  That when he came home, it would be forever.  

My mother’s reply was always that one day it would be on his shield and not carrying it.  Her eyes would darken at this thought, but a quick smile and a touch of her cheek and father would  banish the memory from her.

The summer of my  sixteenth year, my father came home.  On his shield.

There had been an ambush on the road and a stray arrow from an enemy found it’s way under his armour.  The arrow had been poisoned.  He did not last the night.

I remember when the Captain told my mother .  She did not she one tear. 

Once the soldiers left, she gathered me close and spoke the words that I remember over a decade since.

“It is your turn now.”

(to be continued)