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A Matter of Honor by meckinock	21 Review(s)
Shrimp	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 3/4/2008
I love how you write Halbarad. You make him SUCH a true, strong, wonderful character. I also admire how you write the feelings between Elrond and Aragorn. He really does love him as a son, but you paint it a bit painfully and really realistically. They love each other, even though love usually has a tad of pain mixed in - fortunately the love is greater than the pain. Also - 'Aragorn would indeed take such a loss to heart. “Estel has yet to accept that all things cannot be saved.” “Maybe that is his gift,” said Gandalf.' That is utterly beautiful. Lord bless the idealists. Author Reply: Oh, Shrimp, thank you so much for your very kind review. I haven't looked at this chapter in such a long time, but it was one of my favorites and I'm so glad you took the time to let me know you enjoyed it. God bless the idealists, indeed. And I'm so tickled that you enjoy this interpretation of Halbarad, too. It was such a pleasure writing him because Tolkien leaves so much to the imagination, and I imagined he was quite a guy. Thanks so much, you really made my day.

Klose	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 2/16/2007
Hurin was a dreamer, a poet. Eru knew where he got it from. From Grandpa Halagarth, perhaps? Heehee. It's a testament to your writing skills that despite me meeting all these characters in one chapter, I can't help but love them. Even Hurin and his older brother, despite only being referred to in this story, are brought to such life. I'm not sure if it's wise for me to start a rambling discourse on why exactly all these characters are so awesome - I mean, you've got Elanor, whose cuteness is nicely balanced with her spunkiness ("The child was diplomatic, at least." - !!!), and man, I have so much love for our dice-playing grannies. Almost makes me wish I lived in this loving (if slightly coarse) Ranger camp. It figures that Nelaer would be as caustic and fiery as she is! And I can't help but admire Meneliel. Meanwhile, Halbarad's reunion with Eirien was just perfect. Nice to see that she isn't dainty and conventionally beautiful, and the depth of Halbarad's love and affection for her because/despite that. I just loved that entire scene with her, it's so just so subtle and tender and beautiful, despite the, ah, indelicateness of the setting, LOL. All in all, a very captivating look at Ranger life. It's absolutely understandable that the Dunedain themselves might not necessarily feel the Shire is as important as their Chieftain thinks it is, especially considering the general unfriendliness towards them in those parts... and also interestning to see how the Northern Dunedain view Aragorn, and I do wonder where these guys were (Halbarad excepting) when Aragorn claimed his inheritance. Author Reply: Oh, now you've done it. Totally melts at hearing Klose loves the characters (wow - even Halbarad's mother? Most people don't seem like her much at first LOL) I could just never imagine Halbarad with a dainty wife LOL. Wever since the moment Halbarad admitted (in my earlier story) that his wife was the one who made him get back up on his horse and go after Aragorn, I imagined her as this no-nonsense, independent woman who nevertheless loved him deeply; while understanding his deep loyalty to and faith in Aragorn. She knows he has to fulfill his duty to Aragorn because that's who he is. I'm glad you loved that little mud-wrestling scene - I sort of indulged myself there. I imagine the Dunedain think the Shire is important, but at some point they just don't have the resources to protect it anymore, and that point is now, in this story at least. They don't see any great danger to the Shire that would require them to divert resources from areas that need protection just as much (like their own settlements!) As far as how they view Aragorn, I imagine most of them do see something special in him; something that they didn't see even in his father, but they aren't really sure what will come of it. I don't think most of them imagine that the Return of the King will happen in their lifetime, although I like believing that Halbarad does. His mother, I think, is not blind to Aragorn's destiny as much as she has simply hardened her heart to it out of bitterness. But I think inside she sees more than she lets on ;-) thanks again.

viggomaniac	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 1/17/2006
Can't believe I read this WEEKS ago but never reviewed. As always, a marvelous character portrayal of Halbarad. He no longer exists as a shadowy figure in my mind but as a flesh and blood person. That's all due to your sensational writing. I loved the ending to the chapter when his wife --being the proper lady that she is -- shrieks and jumps into his arms. And now, the new chapter has arrived. Could it be the one where we find out just exactly WHAT this matter of honor is all about? I'm dying to read it, but alas, will wait until my family have left for the day. And now, I must go off to the mundane realities of life until that time arrives. Dang! HOW many more hours???? Author Reply: Hey, well you've been kind of busy. I see you've just posted your story over on ff.net. Yay! As soon as I'm done here I'm off to read it. This was the fun chapter. I guess you already know the answer to your question!

RS	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 1/6/2006
You outdid yourself this time!!! FUNNY!!! What a hilarious scene with Halbarad's mother and the ladies shooting craps..and to top it off, trying to teach the granddaughter. Reading this whole thing felt like walking right into the a Ranger's camp. No wonder he was so uncomfortable in Imladris. The camp is truly his home. His thoughts of his wife is simply beautiful "No rapturous leys would ever be sung about her flawless skin", except in the private dreams of Halbarad." Sigh!! I like the way Halbarad's wife greeted him, "What are you smiling at, Ranger" and his reply, "Beauty". Great ending to this chapter, also. Can't wait for the next update. Will we see Aragorn and Arwen? Author Reply: The Dunedain Anti-Defamation League is preparing their lawsuit now... Craps-playing grannies are purely my invention and have no basis in canon, of course. It probably would have been more accurate to portray them playing slot machines or video poker :-) Glad you liked the interaction between Halbarad and his wife - I enjoyed writing it very much. Aragorn and Arwen....er, not for a while yet. Aragorn has someplace he has to go first.

daw the minstrel	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 1/6/2006
I'm in Sydney. I'll start the endless plane rides home tomorrow and am using up the minutes left on my account--more precious than gold and twice as expensive! Halbarad's family made me laugh. His mother and her old lady cronies are a hoot, and the little girl tossing dice made me laugh out loud. I'm glad Halbarad gets a sweet reward with his obviously capable wife. So this is soon after Gilraen's death? I hadn't thought about what her return to the Angle might cause. Author Reply: Daw from Down Under! What a nice surprise. Halbarad is just like a pig in you-know-what. Gilraen died in 3007, according to the timeline in Appendix A. This is still spring of 3008. Since the timeline isn't specific about when she returned to the Angle, I haven't tried to nail it down, but I'm supposing it was some years ago. I think most all the Dunedain would have been thrilled to see her back. Most. Safe trip back, and post pictures.

Linda Hoyland	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 1/4/2006
You made me feel that I'd actually visited the Rangers your desciptions were so vivid !I just loved Halbarad's mother ! It is so poignant that he will not live to see the restoration of his people that he so longs for and forsees that ARagorn will bring about.I love his loyalty to Aragorn.Very enjoyable as ever. Author Reply: Hi, Linda. It is kind of bittersweet to see Halbarad with his family, knowing the fate that awaits him. It makes me feel a little better to imagine that he had a happy, full life, and that it would comfort him to know his people will have a bright future, even if he can't see it. Thanks

The Karenator	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 12/30/2005
that was a jingle for a television commercial here about thirty years ago - Eru knows what dark corner of Karen's brain she dredges this stuff up from. I can't even remember what the product was, but I'm sure she can.) Perfume. Enjoli. Just thought you might want to know. :>) Author Reply: It was right on the tip of my tongue. Author Reply: I'll have you know that I've been singing "...'cause I'm a wooooo-man!" for the better part of a day now.

Dot	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 12/30/2005
Ah, the Ranger in his natural environment. After seeing Halbarad’s unease in Rivendell, this really shows us the reason for it. You know, much as I would rather be in Rivendell with its soft cushions and feather beds, there’s something about how much Halbarad really loves his land and his people and this life where the hardships are what makes it real that has me sitting here with a dreamy smile on my face and sighing sappily. Now, that’s a man!! cough Where was I? Oh, so I love the idea of the path to Rivendell hiding itself as Hlabarad leaves it behind. It really is a different world and you get that across so wonderfully through these references. Boy, he really is mistaken about who controls the Bruinen! LOL. But it probably gives him a little more respect for Gandalf. And he also probably didn’t need another reason to feel awe for Elrond! So the elves sent his clothes to the great laundrette in the sky, huh? I can just imagine what a sight Halbarad made. There he was thinking he was getting back to his Rangery roots and out comes Brandol and makes Halbarad look like he’s wearing his Sunday best to clean out the oven. I really enjoyed the description of the settlement. There’s still such a sense of life to the place, of activity and community, even if it feels emptier than usual to Halabrad after the orc attack and with the patrols out. Elanor is adorable! I kind of prefer picturing Aragorn riding a Rose Petal than a Pearblossom, though. I love the grannies playing dice! And Nelaer is just brilliant. Not the mother I’d picture for Halbarad at all! The way she says “So you’ve been off rescuing Aragorn from Dunlendings. And it looks as if you’ve been to Rivendell, from your clothes”… I can just picture her rolling her eyes at such nonsense. As though he’d been out playing instead of doing his chores. When I bet she was worried until she knew he was alright. I admit I rather like her. Perhaps not her personally but that type of character here. To Halbarad she’s obviously just his quick-tempered, fault-finding mother but there seems to me to be a suggestion of her just genuinely wishing her son could be around more at home, where she sees things that need to be done immediately. The Dúnedain may have believed that the king would be restored some day but that doesn’t help much with day-to-day living where there’s so much to do. Nelaer seems like a very practical type of person who lives very much in the present. She also sounds like someone who, like all of them, has maybe seen a lot lost to the cause and responds with bitterness. She’s very interesting, set against the faith and determination of Fimenel and Meneliel. Plus, I like seeing Halbarad with a feisty mother – and I bet she’s not all that bad; she certainly seems good with Elanor (even if she is teaching her to gamble)! '“I’ll tell the horse,” he replied' ROTFL!! Smart-ass. 'No rapturous leys would ever be sung about her flawless skin or melodious voice, except in the private dreams of Halbarad Dúnadan.' Aaaw! You know, that along with calling his granddaughter Pearblossom and his fond thoughts about the landscape and I think Eru isn’t the only who’s figured out where Hurin got his dreamy and poetic tendencies from. Don’t tell Halbarad I said that, though. Eirien is so perfect! Exactly the wife I would have wanted for Halbarad. I’m still smiling at the ending with Halbarad taking his filthy, muddy, soaking wet wife and making sure the two of them enjoyed his homecoming :-) Great as always, Meckinock. I’m looking forward to the next part. (Is it terrible that I didn’t miss Aragorn at all in this chapter?!) Author Reply: Aragorn who? I'm afraid I indulged my inner Mary Sue just a bit with this chapter, but if you can't indulge yourself every once in a while, what's fan fiction for? Yeah, he's a man. A man with spiffy new boots LOL. I'm glad that you liked the settlement. I was trying to get across the bleak reality of it but also its appeal to Halbarad. Actually I really struggled with what to call it. I think it's likely the Dunedain would call it a village, not a settlement, but the word "village" evokes too much of a quaint, Victorian image of little stone churches and pubs with names like the Fox and Whistle, while I was aiming for something more along the lines of a Bronze Age hill fort. And I'm really glad you didn't find Nelaer too off-putting. Well, all right, she IS very off-putting, but you see the purpose and meaning in it, at least. For one, obviously everyone deserves a feisty mother :-). And then there's hard crush of reality as it obliterates youthful dreams. Bitterness is a common outcome, isn't it? I think Karen summed up Eirien in one line - she can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never ever let him forget he's a man! (that was a jingle for a television commercial here about thirty years ago - Eru knows what dark corner of Karen's brain she dredges this stuff up from. I can't even remember what the product was, but I'm sure she can.) I won't tell Halbarad you called him a poet. He might have to track you down and throw you in a mud puddle.

The Karenator	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 12/29/2005
Johnny Halbarad looked back over his shoulder; the path he had just ridden disappeared into a tangle of bushes messier than last week's plot of Desperate Housewives. The last homely dad's house was now as safe as tuna was from Jessica Simpson. He let a sigh of relief that would have made him a shoe-in for bassoonist in the Mayberry Marching Band and urged his horse onward. It was good to be on the road again. He hummed a few bars of 'Crazy' from the old outlaw himself and pointed his horse toward another home so well hidden it'd take Joe Friday's dragnet to find it. The dad's house was nice, puffed up fluffier than Orville Reddenbacker's corn, but the PI would never feel at home with twinkies, fairies, and men who wore butterflies barrettes. He was a hard-boiled; a man wary of soft cushions, and distrustful of anybody who used over one utensil at a meal. Real life went on down at the Triangle where real men got together to spit and scratch and swap sordid stories that would turn the gut of an elf inside out faster than Buck Rogers could fire twenty rounds from a empty ray gun. Halbarad had a love for this land. The only place he'd ever seen that looked better to him was on Episode Ten of the first season of Lost in Space. The robot got stuck between two boulders that jutted up out the dirt like two sisters embracing the tin man. Eriador was the moon to him. This was his sea of tranquility--with an odd alien face that looked like Colonel Attar from Planet of the Apes carved in the rock. The PI arrived at the checkpoint to find old Ben Kenobi standing guard on the Old Republic. Halbarad's people, the last of the rag-tag resistance, had been hiding out in the scrub brush since their home planet of Numenor had sunk below the vast wasteland of watery space. Only a few of the faithful friends of the Fates had managed to escape on a couple of beat-up hulls to hide out in the sticks of Eriador. Halbarad offered up to the guard the shooting-bird sign that said he was still a mangy ranger and hadn't been seduced by the fairy side so that the old geezer wouldn't plug him with a heat-seeking arrow. "Thank a yodeling Yoda, your saber still lights up," the old man said. "Shoot me if you ever find braids and butterflies in my hair," the PI said giving the grizzled guard a wacky wink. The old man guffawed, but the grin fell of his face as quickly as a battlestar could drop off the galactica map. "You might want me to give you a push off the bridge when you find out who's showed up." "I know it ain't the chief ranger, because I left him snoozing in the firehouse back in fairy land. So, who's got your engines off line?" "Your maternal mangy rangerette," old Ben said, sorrow dripping from his voice like coolant from a ruptured coil. "Ma?" the PI spat out like a Klingon clearing his throat. "The grand garnisher of grief herself." "What's she doing here?" "Got fired from her job as shrew as the Academy, I've heard." Halbarad knew his mother wouldn't make it long as the professor of prying peeks in personal proclivities. She was effective as an interrogator, but she was bad to smash her subjects’ sensibilities into sub-particles. This was just perfect. Nothing could have set the PI's teeth more on edge than finding out his malignant mother unit had dropped in to pay a house call. Living with her was like sharing space with a Sauronian dragon suffering a bout of bloated bowels. He'd rather have his hair braided. Doom fell on him like a clod of Kyptonite. Still, the PI was not one to let a frumpy female fogy with foul fortitude foil his forthcoming felicitations for finding a floundering fop of a frontman. He did his job, and he did it well. Old Ben eyed the ranger's new duds. "So," he smiled, "you look like you've joined the fairies' rear guard." "I don't go in for that kind of thing," the PI said spinning his tone into a hiss that sounded like his boiler was about to blow. "Well," old Ben said with a toothless grin, "nice boots." The old grizzled gizzard walked with the PI to the shanty town they called sort-of-home. As they neared the first row of splintery cabins, a walloping whirlwind of a waggish waif ploughed his bread basket. "What's this?" he asked, a hearty laugh of punkish pride punctuating the placid place. "A perian punkster?" The plucky pigtailed pixie gave him a peeved peek from under a pair of pallid lashes. "No, you old grumpy gramps, I'm your granddaughter." "So you are," the PI said. "I thought I recognized you." "Granny says you're MIA so much that you wouldn't know you own left foot unless it was in your mouth." The PI groaned. "Which granny?" "Your genetrix: the matriarch of maternal malfeasants." "I was afraid of that," Halbarad said with a snort. "Where is the haggard harpy?" "Waiting on you to show," the lovely little lass said. “And where is your other granny? The one I like.” “Out in the lower forty,” the clever cherub said. “She’s midwife to a mother-to-be mare in the mud. I didn’t go. I don’t know nothing about birthing no babies.” The PI snorted. This kid played dumber than Jar Jar Binks, but she was as smart as Anakin Skywalker and look what that got him: helmet hair, a push button chest and a bad respiratory disorder. Halbarad found his ma planted in his sitting room, playing craps with a crowd of her cronies. "So," she said, tossing the dice with the skill of a skunked scalawag, "where's the leader of this maudlin mob? Is he still trying to make time with that polished petticoat when his own folk are floundering like festering fish?" "Ma!" the PI groaned. "Watch your wankery, woman," one of his mother's merry mates said. “That raggedy ranger may one day be your king.” “King!” Halbarad’s mother yelped. “We’ve been waiting on a king since Ar-Pharazon’s administration went swimming with the fishes. And,” she added with a gleam of gutsy glee in her eyes, “we’ll all be farming worms with Tasha Yar before another one shows up.” “I’m off to find the missus,” Halbarad said, ignoring his mother’s gibbering gibes. His paramour was right where the petite precocious preschooler said she’d be, stretched out like Scotty trying to fix a limping lithium crystal, only her arm was up a horse. Rain fell, turning the bucolic bottom–the land's, not the wife's—into a soggy bog. “What are you looking at, you flatfooted fool?” she asked. “A real woman,” he said. “The kind that can bring home the bacon, fry it up in pan and never, ever let me forget I’m a man.” She looked up at him as if he had just made the hyper-jump into a wookie. “Make yourself useful, gumshoe.” The PI dropped down into the muddy mess and held the mare that was probably wondering at this point if the stud muffin had been worth it. “You’re looking mighty fetching in your blood and mud stained frock,” the PI said. She pushed away from the heaving hulk of horse and stood, looking him over like the menu at Sonic. “Nice boots,” she said, smiling. “I could lose ‘em.” “What else you got to offer?” He swept her up into his arms. “My saber still lights up too,” Halbarad said, and kissed her. Ray’s Dog I love this chapter. Halbarad’s pleasure at being home is so nice…and he looks real nice too. He knew he’d be in for a ribbing when he showed up looking all spiffy. Little Elanor is a doll. I love that she names the horses. However, there’s a small problem at my house over this. Barney and Rudi are rather put out. Snickers and Comet don’t give a hoot and a hollow as long as they get the good food and the pernicious pups leave them alone. But both are agreeable to being immortalized in the Angle if you really need to. And they’re sure you do. But they don’t care. Really, they don’t. I seem to be the minority, but I love the grumpy old mama. She’s just blowing smoke and Halbarad probably knows this, but that’s not the point; she annoys him anyway. It’s her job. And it’s his to get his fur rubbed the wrong way. Gambling grannies. I love it. Ah…muddy Eirien and her love muffin. He’s been away from home for too long. I guess he’s fully recovered. Seriously, that's a great scene. Sweet and just enough to let the reader fill in the blanks. Very nice. This chapter is so good I didn’t even feel too bad about Aragorn getting left on the cutting room floor. But I know he’ll be back up next. I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s up to. Delightful chapter, meckinock. Karen Author Reply: A masterpiece. This was the line that my chiropractor will be billing you for: “And where is your other granny? The one I like.” “Out in the lower forty,” the clever cherub said. “She’s midwife to a mother-to-be mare in the mud. I didn’t go. I don’t know nothing about birthing no babies.” But this is the one that put me to shame: She pushed away from the heaving hulk of horse and stood, looking him over like the menu at Sonic. “Nice boots,” she said, smiling. “I could lose ‘em.” “What else you got to offer?” He swept her up into his arms. “My saber still lights up too,” Halbarad said, and kissed her. I hereby lay down my keyboard and mouse and surrender to the Queen of the Woodland Realm.

Bodkin	Reviewed Chapter: 7 on 12/29/2005
Well - at least Halbarad has found a way to wipe the gloss of those nice new clothes! And Eirien seems just the right sort of practical, down-to-mud wife for him. I don't blame her for spending her time out in the paddock turning foals - it seems a lot more peaceful than sitting indoors with Halbarad's mother. Love Halbarad's response to her. 'No rapturous leys would ever be sung about her flawless skin or melodious voice, except in the private dreams of Halbarad Dúnadan.' The old romantic. I think Pearblossom will make a very good name for the foal. Elanor should clearly have a career in horse-naming. I rather like the idea of solid, strong-willed Dunedain rangers riding on horses called Rose Petal and Sausage and Princess. It must be quite spooky to be riding away from Rivendell and having the access roads disappear behind you. And the river - I wonder if Gandalf realised that Halbarad thought he had done it, or if it was one of those cross-purposes conversations which the two of them both thought they had understood - yet, had they then been forced to explain it, would have described something entirely different. His old clothes had been 'otherwise disposed of in accordance with Elvish practices' had they? That puts all kinds of interesting images in my mind. Just what sort of practices might they be indulging in here? How many children does Halbarad have? Judging from later ... activities, there could be quite a few. And he's a grandfather. Hurin and Alagos and who else? The settlement is much more real than Rivendell - I can understand why Halbarad feels more comfortable with it. It is connected to the world in a way that the elven refuge isn't. Whereas Rivendell still says 'home' to Aragorn - which is just as well really, since he is going - eventually - to marry Arwen. And be king. Nelaer seems just the kind of mother to make riding off on patrol on rangering duties a very good idea. Although one can hardly blame her for being cynical - the return of the king doesn't seem too likely at this point. A lovely chapter - with promise of more to come. Delightful. Author Reply: I loved turning Halbarad into an old softie. Sausage! That's a good one! Once I had Daisy (to be honest, at the time I was tired of calling her "the chestnut mare" and too lazy to research a noble, respectable Sindarin-derived Dunedain horse name,) I found I liked the idea of Hal's granddaughter naming all the horses after her favorite flower or bug. Halbarad told Dudo in "Hands" that he had three children and two grandchildren. I ended up giving him two sons and a daughter - she's the one off to Evendim, though that didn't come out in the dialogue. Alagos is the eldest, and he's probably quite a bit older - 30 or 35. I don't think Eirien is quite as bent out of shape about the unexpected visit by her curmudgeony mother-in-law as her hubby is. As her son, Halbarad is obliged to be mortified by her behavior, obviously. Her bark is worse than her bite, but to me she personifies the despair that hangs over and at times must threaten to overwhelm the Dunedain. I don't think they could all manage to be glass-half-full people all the time. Thanks, Bodkin

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