Forest

(scene stands alone, no sequels)

The forest guarded them. Leaves hanging wet with rain. Branches dipping with the load. The air was moist and very calm as if holding its breath.

Sorrow.

Every tree around was filled with it. And the two people facing each other were but the essence and yet also the cause of that omnipresent feeling. They had both walked these woods, gracefully, united. Content. They had shared thoughts, some so deep they were touching. Soulful. There was no hope to regain that depth in these woods or elsewhere when they would walk alone. They might reach out to each other, call upon an emotion that traveled every distance, but still they would be alone.

There was no fear of loneliness in her lovely face, and he guarded his emotions as he had always done. Therefore she smiled and gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. He looked into her eyes and knew he could hide nothing from her. From the first look to the threat of his departure she had known him to the core. She would keep a memory of him so much more intimate and thorough than anyone else's, might they be Elf or Man. She was the only one to touch and warm his heart, and when he let go off his breath and lingered on the feel of her hand on his cheek, she understood how much of him she had won. More than affection, more than love even. He had opened his soul to her; let her see what moved him and what was important to him. She could try to tell him that she would think of him while he was away and that, in a moment of need, she might be able to reach out to him, but words seemed fragile and lost. He knew her as well.

He cupped her face so carefully as if she might break upon touch. Her smile deepened, but in his eyes was regret, so raw and suddenly unguarded that her smile withered.

“I carry you in my heart,“ she whispered and parted her lips to kiss him one last time. And then, with the trees still guarding them, he left.

(word count 369)

If you want to read more written by me (in German), please, visit www.sabine-igiel.de Thank you.

Clouds

(scene stands alone, no sequels)

   Clouds passed by, conveying the sense of peace and tranquillity in a world that went farther and farther away from it. Standing high on the Tower of Ecthelion and watching the world change, the eldest son of the steward flinched with regret. He knew the storm would come. It would rip apart what was left of Gondor. It would sweep away armies across the Rammas. It would kill and burn and leave people frightened and dying. His gloved hands gripped the stone tight, and wind played with his hair, cooled his hot face. He had lost the argument with his father; he would leave and Faramir, his beloved brother and the more educated and calmer man, would stay to defend Gondor’s people. He had said that he did not even know where to find this Rivendell, a place in the myth of some old wood. How should he know where to ride and how to represent Gondor’s interests by other means than his sword? However, the steward had never wavered, had never even listened to his plead. He did not trust Faramir with the most important task to find out about the secret weapon someone in Rivendell might hold. He just wanted it. And the war-hardened son would leave to find it and to make it serve Gondor’s ultimate need: to survive the next attack. And the next. To exist long enough to make the enemy’s army crumble to dust.

   It was a vain hope. They had seen the numbers. They could estimate how many foul creatures lay hidden in the mountains beyond their reach. It was hard to defend and maintain Osgiliath. But once Osgiliath would fall there was no predicting what would happen next. He feared the outcome. He feared that no captain and no army would stop the marauding hordes. Even if they lacked weapons they would overwhelm them by numbers. By sheer force of manpower. The defenders of the White City were used to fight skirmishes, but there would be no more single fights. There would be war. He could smell it, and he feared it.

   Boromir gripped the stone one last time, then abruptly turned and went down to where his horse waited. It would be long ride and he hoped it would not be a vain one. He glanced back over his shoulder to where the white stone reflected the sun. He sent a prayer out to the gods to help him return to do what he was born to do: fight the enemies of Gondor with his sword.

Word count 425

Cold

(Scene gets a sequel)

The morning was cold when Strider woke to a new day in the fen. Mist lay like a white layer over the village, in which he had sought shelter the day before. The villagers had welcomed him with hospitality exceeding his expectations. Though they did not know him they had cheered his arrival.

“Oh, I see you are already awake,” the eldest said with a deep smile when he approached the hut Strider had used to rest. “My congratulations, again, to your choice.”

“Choice?” Strider echoed and cleared his throat. He felt dizzy standing up and took in air, blinking. “May I know what you are talking about?”

The eldest bent forward, hands wringing each other, and his gaze was steady and suspicious on Strider's face. “You will not tell me that you regret your decision, will you?”

“Again, my good man, I need to ask you, what choice are you talking about?”

Now the gaze turned angry. “You are pretending not to know that you married my grand-daughter yesterday. That is outrageous! You will not…”

“Married?” Strider felt slightly nauseous. He remembered vaguely that there had been a young woman. And a strong drink in a wooden mug. And people cheering. He lifted his hands to quieten the old man's rambling, but to no avail. More men gathered around them, enclosing them in a threatening stance. A young woman came up from behind, looking left and right to learn the reason of the sudden unrest.

The eldest stood very erect. “You will face the wrath of the beast,” he stated. As if given the command to act the villagers rushed Strider. The wanderer did not intend to hurt the people so he did not draw his sword. With fists he defended himself, trying to calm the men with words. They were lost. He saw the eldest and his grand-daughter standing close by, watching the brawl. The woman was crying, and Strider would have wanted to explain the situation. A tall young man the size of a bull attacked him. The blow drove out all air of his lungs, and he stumbled. More men crowded, bringing him down and keeping him on the ground. A rope was wound around his wrists and his weapons taken away. His protests ebbed away unheard. The villagers pulled him to his feet. “Do you still pretend not to know about your recent marriage?” the eldest asked, his look askance.

“I know that I came here to ask for food and shelter, but not to be…”

A hard blow to his stomach ended Strider's explanation, and the eldest nodded with grim determination. He patted his grand-daughter’s hand. “Take him out into the fen and let the beast decide about his life.”

Word count 456

Temper

(Sequel to “cold”)

   The air was hot and humid and smelled of rotten plants and foul water. Strider squinted as he tried to see the horizon and wondered how many foes had perished, punished by the angry eldest. The villagers had not only taken his weapons, but had left him with his hands and feet bound in the fen. While the sun rose and the mist dissolved he did not descry more than flocks of birds taking off in the distance. No man walked here for the fen was treacherous. Without being shackled, Strider would have taken every precaution while walking this land. He heard movement around him, but wherever he looked there were only frogs, snakes, and some small scavengers searching for food in the puddles.

   As the day went by, Strider repeatedly tried to get rid of the leather rope that held his wrists. He had been in desolate situations before and was no man to give up hope easily. Vividly, he remembered his journeys with Gandalf. They had been in peril more often than not, and they had fought side by side. A deep friendship bound them, and Strider had always trusted the old man's decisions and had taken the task to find Gollum willingly. He knew that the old wizard tried the same, for the best of all peoples of Middle Earth. Strider hoped that Gandalf was safe. The days became darker and more dangerous as the evil in the east rose and searched for new allies. There were few elves and less men who would be able to strengthen the defense against Sauron's rising armies, and he, one of the Rangers from the north, was one of them. However, in the brightness of day Strider did not see a chance to free him. For a moment, when dusk was close, he lost his temper and tore the bonds, frustrated. The wet leather held him, and he gave in. Wearily, suffering from thirst and hunger, he rested again on his side. He sent his thoughts to his beloved Arwen, knowing she could not help him, but the image in his mind soothed his troubled heart.

   The sun set and with it quietness settled across the vast landscape. Strider strained his ears and eyes when he heard movement coming closer from the west. Though the ground was moist the creature hardly made noise, and only his trained ears recognized it was no animal he knew. He sat up slowly. His breathing accelerated. Then, as if surfacing from earth itself, a cloaked frame appeared before him. He looked up, and could not help but frown.

   “Who are you?” he asked quietly for he could not see a face or hands. He was more astonished when he heard a voice answering softly,

   “So you are the one they sent to either grant friendship or death.”

Word count 497

Abandoned

(sequel to “cold” and “temper”)

   “Do not fear me,” said the voice so quietly it was impossible to determine if it was a man or a woman. The stranger crouched. The wide cloak touched ground, and still Strider could neither see the hands nor the face of the man before him.

   “If I shall not fear you, why do you not reveal yourself?”

   “You have been here for a day, bound, frightened, left hungry and thirsty. And still you wish for revelation first?” There was a touch of amusement to the voice, and Strider frowned deeper as he nodded. “You are strong. I have seen men out here who begged for release. Begged for water and freedom. Begged for a way out of this devilish land. And you but wish to see me?”

   “You have the advantage of seeing my face. I am Strider, a wanderer in these lands.”

   For a long moment, Strider heard only breathing. His hands hurt and he was thirsty enough to be impatient. However, he sensed that the stranger had seen more and learned more than he understood right now. There was no sense in urging him.

   Suddenly, the stranger pulled back the cloak. Perhaps, other men had gasped, turned away in shock and dismay. Strider held his gaze steadily on the stranger's face. She was a woman in her thirties with long brown hair, framing an oval face. Yet, there was no beauty to it. Scars ran from her left eye to her chin and the skin of her face was hardened by weather and hardship. Her light brown eyes had lost its spark, and her mouth was thin-lipped and crooked and added to her ugly appearance. Her gaze was challenging him, but he waited.

   “You still look at me?” the strange woman demanded to know. “And do you still want to see me?”

   “Now that I see your face, would you mind telling me your name?”

   The woman cocked her head. She had expected shouts of dismay, but not equanimity.

   “Larina.”

   “Larina, would you mind cutting the ropes? Please?” She stared at him, and then, as quickly as she had revealed herself, she took a short knife from a sheath, knelt behind the prisoner and freed him. Strider rubbed his wrists. “Thank you.”

   Larina hesitated to cut the rope around his ankles. She stepped back, the knife open and threatening in her left hand. “They abandoned you here to die. What did you do?”

   He made no attempt to unwind the rope. “I woke this morning and learned that I had married the daughter of the eldest. I denied that.”

   Larina threw back her head and laughed. Strider did not share her amusement. He was puzzled. When she finally looked at him again amusement faded from her face like color dissolving in water. “You are not the first they sent. And that woman is not his only daughter.”

Word count 488

Sky

(Sequel to “Cold“, “Temper“, and “Abandoned“)

   When the morning waned, and the sky glowed, announcing a bright day after the mist would have dissolved, Larina walked to the village without turning whether Strider followed her. Her stride was even; she had walked these treacherous grounds for long. He followed her footsteps vigilantly.

   “May I ask why you live in the fen?“ Strider finally broke the silence.

   Larina glanced over her shoulder. “A beast came and attacked us. But while two men died I was left behind. Dying, but not dead.“ Her voice did not reveal sadness or regret. “No one dared touching me. They said the curse of the beast was on me and that no living man would ever touch me without being killed.” She stopped and lifted her chin to look into Strider's eyes. “I was left at the mercy of the fen, the beast and my fate... was to live or die but to never return.” Strider's expression was grim, but he did not interrupt her. “The old Mendaris found me. He lived in the fen, cast out like I was.” A small smile appeared and quickly vanished. “They said he was a sorcerer. For they did not understand him. They never understood.” Larina turned away. Strider held her arm, gently but firmly.

   “They had no right to…”

   For a moment anger and despair cloaked Larina's face. “You do not know about right or wrong, Strider. Not here. Not in the fen.” She walked on, and he followed. “Mendaris saved me, and from that day on I shared his hut and learned his magic.”

   “You are a healer?”

   Larina shook her head. “Mendaris was a healer. A great man. They came to him when they did not know where else to go to find a cure. But now he is dead and I…” She broke off and hung her head.

   “They do not see a healer, but a… judge in you?”

   Larina laughed, then shook her head briskly. “A judge I am not. But you are right, the villagers leave it to me if I save or damn these poor souls they send me. Still, they do not understand. But I will teach them.”

Word count 370

Prank

(Sequel to ‘Sky' and previous prompts)

   Larina was singing when she entered the village. Her voice was rich and full, her alto carried far. The song rose in volume and intensity, and the people came out of their huts as if drawn by invisible strings. They gaped at her. Larina smiled and still her music filled the air. It reached out and touched the hearts and souls of the men and women, gently, like a caressing hand. Her face remained hidden behind the hood. The villagers did not stare at her, but relaxed with the warmth she radiated. Their eyes were hazy, bespelled by the eerie music.

   Behind her Strider stood, trying to focus, trying to remain alert while the people around him acted like thrown in trance. He frowned, and his breathing was labored while the enchantment lasted. Watching the men and women, he strained to stay out of the mystical touch of Larina's voice. He felt a weight on his body as if resistance got harder with every breath. His ancestry protected him and lent him strength, but when the singing ended he was close to collapsing. His eyes were closed, and when he heard Larina speak and looked up he was kneeling on the ground, panting.

   Larina tenderly lifted his chin. “Your strength is remarkable, Strider.” Her smile held a touch of care, affection and knowledge at the same time. “You are by far the strongest of men they sent me.”

   Strider swallowed hard, relearning how to breathe. “What… what did you do?” he asked and glanced past her to where the villagers still stood, swaying slightly in the morning mist.

   “Just a prank,” a grumpy voice said, and Strider saw the eldest of the village stepping closer, passing through the lines of his people. “Another evil she spreads like a disease.”

   “Good morning,” Larina said warmly as if he had not accused her. “I found your…” She glanced back at Strider, who slowly stood. “…gift.”

   “So you did.” The old man kept wary eyes on her. Around him the villagers woke from the spell and gazed around, insecure how they had come to the center of the village. “You swore to never misuse your powers, you…”

   Larina lifted her right hand, and the old man fell silent like slapped. Her voice was still gentle when she said, “You will not call me names, not now and not later. I did not come here to play pranks on you,” she told the people around her, “but to thank you.”

   “Thank us?” The old man frowned and glanced at Strider. “What is there to thank us for?”

   “I was told that you gave this man your daughter.” Larina tried to glimpse past the old man, and when she found the juvenile face of the woman Strider had learned to be his wife, her smile deepened. “It has always been the right of the eldest to be married first.”

   The face of the old man fell. “No, you cannot…”

   Larina's voice dropped to a grumble. “Oh, yes, I can. For I am your firstborn daughter.”

Word count 515 (oops…)

Secrecy

(Sequels start with “cold”)

   “You are his firstborn daughter?” Strider repeated. A villager lent a hand to help him stand while Larina turned to him with a smile to dazzle. “Why did you not tell me?”

   “There was nothing to tell. The other woman is but the second daughter of Frein, Tainar.”

   Strider looked past Larina to Frein. “Why did you do not tell me? I am not used to be deceived.”

   Frein had the decency to look embarrassed. His hands wrought themselves in front of his old tunic, and his look skipped from Strider to Larina and back. “I wanted you to stay,” he confessed quietly. “And if you had been willing…”

   “But I was not.” Strider snorted. “So you sent me into the fen.”

   “And to me to judge you,” Larina added. “What a wonderful coincidence.” Her voice still held a certain melody and the touch of amusement.

   “You could have asked for help.” Strider felt weak in the knees just hearing the musical voice. Why had it not touched him like this the night before? “That would have been preferable to delivering me at her mercy.”

   A villager, tall and broad like an old tree, stepped closer. His uncouth bearded face bore such sadness it was too much for words. “We could not make it a choice. Or would you have gone to kill an innocent looking woman?”

   “Kill? Why should…”

   Larina's laughter interrupted him, and a chill tingled down his spine. Suddenly he felt his age and it tried to weigh him down. He fought the urge but it cost him. The villagers looked at him as if to say, we told you so. They, too, fought to bend their knee in front of the woman, who enjoyed her demonstration. With a seductive swing of hips, Larina stepped forward to face her father.

   “You were ordered to never return to our village,” the old man said. His attempt at dignity was meant to fail; his voice trembled.

   “And you were told to never hurt me! Mendaris warned you!”

   “We did not hurt you. The beast did.”

   “Because you and your fellows let it come to this.” She reined her temper. “But I did not come here to quibble about old truth. Where is the hut?”

   “Hut?” Frein repeated. His eyes locked with Tainar's, and she quickly lowered her chin. She looked close to tears.

   Larina's eyes narrowed. “Please, do not insult me further. Since I am a married woman now the men will certainly have started building a hut for me and my…” She glanced over her shoulder. “…husband.”

   “What does that mean?” Strider stepped closer and felt his legs obeying again. “Larina, there are many things you ought to explain.”

   “Explain? I do not think it is on me to explain.”

   “Why all the secrecy? What are you hiding from me?”

   The eldest shook his head, slow and sad. “Too much secrecy has already maimed this village.”

Word count 489

Prompt # 60: knife

(Sequels start with "cold")

   “And no more secrecy shall happen!”

   A knife was unsheathed. The villager made a step forward, his face grim. Strider caught his wrist before the blade hit Larina's throat. “This is not the answer!” he shouted and wrestled with the man, forcing him backwards, putting strength against strength while the other men and women only gaped.

   “Alandos, stop that fight!” Frein ordered, but the broad-shouldered man was gone too far to listen. There was hatred in his eyes but also fear.

   Larina's voice filled the air again and as suddenly as it had begun the fight ended. Alandos dropped the knife and fell on his knees, pulling Strider with him. Pulling everyone into the same trance they had felt before.

   “Put an end to this!” Strider clenched his teeth, and the struggle against the woman's magic was harder than the one before.

   Larina glared at him and Alandos, who knelt as if worshipping a goddess. “I will not allow him to threaten me or my husband!”

   “He was not threatening me.”

   “That I know, but I have to protect us both now.”

   “You do not.” Strider made it to his feet. His breath came in short gasps. He waded through the spell as if opposing the fen. “I do not need your powers to protect me.” He stood before her and straigthened when the magic ebbed away. Frein waited to his right, distrusting the sudden calm. Strider turned to him. “You said that secrecy maimed your village. Tell me about it.”

   “Oh, yes,” Larina prompted, “tell him about what you did to me!”

   Frein avoided his daughter's angry glare. “Mendaris knew of her… powers.” He spoke the last word as if it held poison. “He did not know if they were good or evil and forbid us to send her away. We knew she could charm and control everyone so we thought…”

   “You thought that I could also charm the beast!” Larina spat before her father's feet. “You and your fellows expected me to lure it into trance so you could kill it! But the plan was ill-fated.”

   Frein lifted his hands, his face contorted with regret. “We thought you dead. Like the others.”

   Larina stepped closer, and Frein stepped back. Her lips twitched. She knew he feared her. “You and the likes of you have never cared about me. But now you will. You must. For I have returned, and with the right of the wife I will stay here.”

   “What happened to the beast?” Strider demanded to know. “Does it still come here?” Frein, Alandos and the others exchanged glances, but they remained silent. Even Larina seemed tongue-tied. The sudden tension was palpable, and Strider frowned. “The beast still comes to your village, does it not?”

   Still, no one spoke. From afar a howling broke the silence.

Word count: 472

Prompt # 61: rogue

(Sequels start with “cold”)

   “I need my weapons!” Strider demanded, and a juvenile ran to fetch them. And while Strider girded his sword and sheathed his dagger the villagers were terror-stricken and unable to move. “Go, go and arm yourselves!” Only then the men moved and came back with knives and axes, some with clubs. The howling was close now, a horrifying sound, and more than one of the villagers’ faces were ashen with the thought of the beast attacking them.

   “You attracted the beast!” Alandos growled and spat at Larina's feet. “You brought it here!”

   “I did not! I never call it!”

   “But?” Alandos prompted.

   “I feed it! And you know that! It's the price that keeps you safe!”

   “And you, I assume,” Strider added.

   “The beast wanted to destroy us before Larina soothed it.” It was Frein speaking. Regret showed on his face.

   Larina glanced at him, saying, “I've soothed the beast for long. But now,” she added, turning to Strider, “when there is no food though he sensed it, he will follow the scent. It will take him here.”

   Strider swallowed. “To me?”

   The beast, tall as a warg, appeared at the corner of the closest hut. Its mane was brown, thick and matted. Eyes lay like pieces of amber in the midst of a furred face with a broad snout and when it growled fangs showed. The men retreated in awe and fear, their knives and axes forgotten. Larina hummed in a soft voice, and the men stopped. So did the beast.

   Strider was unmoved but raised his bow, fetching an arrow from the quiver.

   “No!” Suddenly Larina bolted through the rows of men and stood before the beast, shielding it with her body. “Do not kill him!”

   “Not?” Frein echoed, standing close to Strider, who still held the arrow poised.

   Larina outstretched her hands while behind her the beast took a step forward, sniffing the air and growling deep in its throat. “He’s not such a rogue as you think he is. He spared me because… because he likes my singing.” She glanced over her shoulder and her gaze softened. The beast put its paws closer to her body. It listened to her voice, and there was no aggressiveness in its look.

   “You are the keeper of the beast,” Strider said in sudden recognition as he lowered his bow.

   “No, not a keeper.”

   “But you like it.” There was caution in Frein's statement. “You truly like this… creature.”

   “In all these years it kept me safe and so I learned to like it, father. And yet, I wanted to return to my village. But my task was to keep him from marauding our village, and so I learned to help him find food.” Behind her the beast made a sound that was almost a word, but neither the men nor Strider were able to understand it. Larina smiled. “My gift is not only to charm people with my voice but to understand what once had words to talk.”

Word count 499

Prompt # 62: celebration

(Sequels started with “cold”)

   “You are a…”

   “I am your daughter,” she interrupted Frein. “And like a daughter I want to be treated. And of you,” she cried, addressing all the villagers present, “I expect you to welcome me back to our village. No longer do I wish to be outcast!”

   “You are not welcome here with… that thing!” Alandos spat. The beast growled as if it had understood the words, and the villager stumbled backwards, paling.

   “As I understand your customs,” Strider said, “she has the right to claim a hut in this village for she is married.”

   “That might be.” Frein could not move his eyes away from his daughter and the beast that stood on four legs behind her. Its snout was so close to her hand he wondered if it would bite the hand off or wanted to be caressed. “But will you stay as her husband, Strider?”

   “Will it not suffice that your daughter spent years of her young life in the wilderness to keep your village safe from harm? Does that not earn her a place among you? You are the eldest of this village, so it is upon you to make a decision.” He looked in the old man's eyes long and hard. Finally, Frein turned his gaze down. Strider faced the villagers. “She did more than anyone of you could ever expect of her! She even faced a beast that almost killed her only to keep you alive! It is her right to be here!”

   “But the beast…”

   “The beast has been my concern for all this time,” Larina said, “so let it be.” She patted the wild mane, and the beast closed its eyes. Murmurs of wonder and utter astonishment rose. “Drop your axes for you will not need them.” Again she sang, low and wonderful, and the men and women were touched with bliss. Larina lifted her gaze to where Strider stood. “I will not bind you to me in marriage if it is your wish to leave, wanderer. For there is more to you than meets the eye. I know that.” She smiled, her hand still resting on the beast's mane. “He knows it, too. So you will leave and maybe, one day, there will be a celebration when you will have found your love.”

   Strider looked at her and knew that Larina was by far more than she had revealed. He gave a curt bow that she returned. He would move on and so would she.

(End of sequels)

Word count: 408

Prompt # 64: Shadow

(stands alone, no sequel)

Wherever Hobbits roamed a feast would be called joyous. They sang songs and danced on the tables and the Rohirrim around stamped their feet and sang with them, even without knowing the lines. Aside the jolly parade of fighters, who had won their first great battle, Aragorn stood, waiting. Watching. The beer in the mug he held in his right hand was warm and stale by now, but he did not think of drinking.

He thought of the Palantir that Gandalf had brought from Isengard. He thought of the challenge that waited in the shadows. He knew he would face the Seeing Stone. Yet, thinking of what it might reveal he was no longer certain he would stand fast against the storm Sauron could unleash.

It was not fear that stalled his step when he left the hall. The knowledge of decades had made him a careful and wise man. He knew that nothing came without a price. Here it would be to allow Sauron to know about him. About his position. About the ranger who had finally left behind the anonymity of the woods to become what he was by right of ancestry. Would he be strong enough? Would he be able to face the greatest of all dark powers and be victorious to anger and confuse the enemy?

Aragorn stepped into the cool blankness of the dark night. He saw no stars and no moon for the darkness was within him. Gripping him. Holding him as if to stop his heart and keep him from a challenge that might prove too vicious to master. Then, drawing breath and shaking his head, he left songs and laughter behind him.

To face his enemy.

Word count: 293

If you want to read more I wrote (in German), please, visit www.sabine-igiel.de Thank you.