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A Matter of Honor by meckinock	16 Review(s)
viggomaniac	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 4/11/2006
Here I go again -- playing 'catch up'! Oh well. I swear, you are the most awesome writer. This chapter just oozes brilliance. Simply fantastic. Ah, but I do run on, don't I? I read a few of the other reviews, and they are absolutely right. Your story is a perfect balance of humor and reality, along with those startling revelations that make all your characters so interesting. After all, who of us in Real Life hasn't experienced things that our chilren would be shocked by? I can just picture Halbarad, mouth agape, at the things he has learned about his own mother! Brandol -- how could I not comment on his ability to drink from a mug without bothering to remove the pipe? Genius. And the comment about his son writing bad poetry. I laughed out loud when I read that one, because my own son writes poetry about the girls he likes (of course, if I do say so myself, HIS poetry is good). But bad poetry -- there's an art to that! The line "Halbarad's fingers, unbidden, found the bridge of his nose and began kneading." Worthy of comment - so true, so funny. The argument with Nelaer -- something we can all relate to and then finding out the reason behind it tempers our feelings of irritation at her. Nice conveyance of poignancy there. And then you add that truly marvelous touch -- Nelaer has a crush on Elladan (but then, who wouldn't I ask you?)! But the best line in the whole chapter is when Eirien whispers to Halbarad and his response -- 'What do you mean, everyone?' I SO loved that as did your readers everywhere I'm sure. Guys really can be so clueless. And oh yeah, Halbarad, your wife got you when she made her point that every man who ever laid eyes on Arwen no doubt fancied her too. Truly -- SO many great things about this chapter I can hardly list them. Aragorn is in a bad way, Elladan is distraught, and now our rash ranger has gone off into the night alone. Ack! What am I going to do now? Oh, that's right. I'm way behind but you've long since posted the next chapter. Sigh of contentment. Author Reply: Of course your son's poetry is good. And his doting mother would never have him kneading the bridge of his nose LOL. Poor Halbarad had no earthly clue what the brothers E2 do to mortal womenfolk. Thank goodness Eirien was willing to make him forget about it. I'm glad you liked the chapter, VM; you really know how to pump up a girl's ego.

Elflingimp	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/22/2006
Hello just read your chapter I loved it, such insight and funny too.I wonder if Halbarads mom had a crush on Elleden,hope old Aragorn finds what hes looking for but Ill have to wait until you update again to find out(maybe) Author Reply: Hi, Elflingimp! Glad you got a chuckle out of the chapter. I think it's safe to say Halbarad's mom might have had a teeny crush going there once upon a time. Aragorn is off to find The Truth. He'll get there, eventually.

Dot	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/22/2006
I feel like the worst reviewer ever at the moment. Sorry this is late. Again. So, I enjoyed every second of this. Loved the opening with Halbarad and Brandol. You really create such a vivid picture of this place, and these two give us a very real idea of the type of life they lead just from this conversation between people who clearly know each other well. You made me smile when Halbarad watches in fascination, as he always did, as Brandol took a drink from his mug without bothering to remove the pipe from between his teeth. Little things like that are what bring your characters to life. “Yes, and what’s more, your mother is convinced that she did it only to seduce my son.” LOL! I quite like the sound of Brandol’s bad poetry-writing, dull-but-smitten son, though. But Halbarad’s thoughts about his daughter, and about the widows of the Dúnedain and their fatherless children are very sobering. You give us colourful characters, but you never let us forget the bleakness and hardship of life with the Dúnedain too. Halbarad’s reactions to his mother are just hilarious. She’s going to annoy him no matter what she says! Everyone else’s exasperation is actually endearing her more to me than any story about her being bewitched by the elves. Though she does go too far sometimes. I was very glad Meneliel decided to explain because I was getting annoyed by her constant picking at Aragorn and saying that her son hero-worships him. She still had me choking with laughter at this, though: “If he wants to be King, then let him be getting on with it.” snort Still, what an explanation Meneliel had! Now that, I most certainly did not expect. As always, Halbarad’s reactions had me grinning, but my heart went out to Nelaer. Her yearning for Rivendell and struggle to go back to her old life are poignant enough but I can see why Gilraen’s tale was a blow to her. It certainly explains her attitude towards them. It makes me wonder what she really thinks of Aragorn – if she saw his ability to move between the two worlds, I’d say she envied it but she doesn’t seem to think he’s around enough. Hmm. And I thought it was a nice insight into her character that she left rather than stayed and caused trouble. I want to know about Halbarad’s father, though! He sounds… nice. Ah, and Aragorn has arrived. I feel so bad for Elladan. He seems to feel such guilt about something that he really shouldn’t. This brought tears to my eyes: “We are the ones, after all, who stole his grief from him so long ago, took from him his identity as Arathorn’s son. Maybe it will help him to be with his own people for a while.” Aragorn himself looks utterly miserable. “Boots off!” Halbarad’s mother barked from the pantry door.’ ROTFL! “Mae govannen, Elladan” blinks She knows him. And she’s blushing. Well! Practical, cynical old Nelaer wasn’t just dancing and painting - she fell for an elf. Erm, there wasn’t cough some Elrondion-related reason she left Rivendell and brooded for an age, was there? “What do you mean, everyone?” grin Elladan’s very own fanclub, huh? Halbarad woke up happy. LOL!! Had a good, uh, night’s sleep, did he?! I love those two. I’m so glad you let us get to see his home life. And Aragorn’s friggin well gone. If he wanted answers to his secrets, he should have just asked Meneliel. Now Halbarad is never going to get that roof done. “I can track him.” I certainly hope so! Hop to it, Hal. Author Reply: Dot, you're a wonderful reviewer. Don't be silly. Glad you liked the Boys' Clubhouse scene. That was one of my favorites. I liked the idea of there being someone who could out-scruff Halbarad. You don't know how bad I wanted Brandol to spit tobacco. With Halbarad's mother, I wanted to make her as infuriating as relatives can be and as petty as a lot people can be without dehumanizing or vilifying her. So, she'll pick at Aragorn, but not to his face. And not to Gilraen's, either. I suspect she secretly admires Aragorn, but we'll have to wait and see if that surfaces eventually! Aragorn is really going to owe Elrond & sons an apology when this is all over. I love Hal's happy home life, too. 'Course, makes fast-forwarding all the more painful. If he wanted answers to his secrets, he should have just asked Meneliel. Now there's an idea. Erm, there wasn’t cough* some Elrondion-related reason she left Rivendell and brooded for an age, was there?* Even Meneliel doesn't know the answer to that!

fliewatuet	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/22/2006
This chapter was well worth the wait. I love the insight into Dúnedain culture and intrigues. I would probably also look ready to bolt if I had to face Halbarad's mother :-) But I would have loved to meet his father. Brandol is quite an interesting character, too, and I really liked his mother. She seems like the voice of reason and the source of wisdom whereas Halbarad's mom seems to have too many issues of her own. But I laughed out lout over the thought that she might have a crush on Elladan. And her "boots off!" was outright hilarious. You managed yet again a perfect balance between humour and grimness. The Dúnedain certainly had little to laugh at that time. To abandon the Angle is in that situation the most reasonable choice though a bitter one. I do wonder what Aragorn would think of the whole issue had he just stayed long enough to discuss it. As it is, I am not surprised that he left before dawn. And I'd wager a guess that he will give Halbarad a hard time to track him. But I am quite confident that Halbarad will manage to hunt down his chieftain and that he will manage to get him to talk about what's bothering him. Thanks again for the chapter. It was the perfect read for an otherwise uneventful business trip. Author Reply: I keep imagining Halbarad's daughter-in-law back at Sarn Ford, and how happy she must be :-). Meneliel is a rock. She sees all, knows all, and doesn't take any crap from anyone. On the other hand, she's seen enough hardship to have compassion for those who don't weather it as well as she does. I figure, who wouldn't have a crush on Elladan? Aragorn must still be a tad feverish if he thinks he can shake Halbarad off his tail. Good to hear from you. I'm glad I could liven up the trip. PS Update soon, please.

The Karenator	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/22/2006
Johnny Halbarad, PI, shook the rain off his back like a Soul Train dancer in the spotlight and kicked open the door to his 'office'. In the sparse light of a day cloudier than Bill Clinton's memory, he picked his way among the detritus that everyone felt free to drop off in the tool shed/ tack shed/ potting shed/ pottery shed/ canning shed/ plow shed/ the all-purpose-but-his shed, to his desk. He moved a half-painted work of art--a woman in a bubble bath whose feet swung up and down like a cork bobbing in water--and sat down. The PI had barely cleaned his space of Barbie’s broken best buddy, Flicka, the Rohan horse of the missing hindquarters, when Brandol charged through the door so caught up in forward motion he looked like rapper propelled by the weight of his jewelry on his way to open-mike night at The Three Sheets to do his imitation of Leonard Nimoy singing 'The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins'. He balanced two mugs of brew, a boom box, a looped whip slung over his shoulder that Halbarad was afraid to think what it was used for, a set of handcuffs, two saddles, six lamps, one Jelly stiletto high-heeled shoe in sparkly pink, a cherry-red bong clutched between his teeth, and a partridge in a pear tree. "Here", Brandol said, "snag these cuffs. I can do the drop on the rest." Halbarad took the suds instead. Brandol let his load slide to the floor into a heap that would have made Uriah green with envy. Halbarad took a drink, a soothing mouthful that washed down his throat like ice on fire. He nodded toward the pile. "What's with the yard sale wares?" The older man settled into the rickety chair across from the PI like Gumby after a day in the desert. He folded up his body and parked, the bong still dangling from his fleshy lips. Before he spoke, he gulped down a quarter of his brew, never once losing his grip on the cherry-red pipe. If Halbarad hadn't been used to seeing this guy balance everything from plates on his nose to the contestant list on 'Let's Make a Deal', he'd have been impressed. But everybody knew Brandol's talents. He was a jack of all trades, a man handy with recycling, and a smoother snake than Kevin Trudeau. "It's all broke," Brandol said in a sentence drawn out as slowly as a puff of smoke trailing off the end of a smoldering pipe the size of Tom Cruise's ego. "Fix it," the PI said eyeing the load of junk like it was being offered on QVC and he knew better than to whip out his Visa. "Can't," Brandol told him. "It's as broke as your mother's personality." There was more than a grain of truth in Brandol's statement. The lot of the Dunadain had been broken since their ancestors had tried to stake claim on Valanor as the New World. The natives weren't welcoming, and the Big Boss had done a slam dunk on the jolly invaders that made them look like Mickey Rooney playing air-ball with Poseidon. The Big Guy had scored a three-pointer all the way to the bottom of the ocean. The Numenoreans were dealt straight crack. Things had been rotten since. "Look at the bright side," Brandol said. "Your daughter and my son are canoodling all the way to Evendim and back. I predict they'll be picking out china and cradles by the time they get back." "What bright side?" the PI asked, downing the remained of his brew before he could choke on the news. He shouldn't have been surprised. Brandol's dull offspring had been hounding his daughter since they were knee high to Lurch. There wasn't much a guy could do when his daughter started hearing the wedding march but play his part as father of the bride. It was a no-win situation. All the females in a radius of fifty leagues got a look in their eyes that said "The Bachelor" had been canceled and started flipping casually through ‘Brides’ magazine, all the while claiming they looked at it only to read the articles. Johnny Halbarad wasn't born in a cave; he'd heard that one before...in fact, he heard it right before he found himself all dressed up in a monkey suit and muttering something about until death do us part. The dinner bell rang, and Halbarad and Brandol trudged through the downpour. His mother, fresh from sharpening her fangs, merely let them glisten in the lamplight until everyone had finished the double cheeses with sides of fries and the new healthy fruit cups in heavy syrup. Once the last peach had been slurped, the crowd split from the scene like full-blooded people fleeing before Dracula. She had the PI pinned. "So when does Aragorn plan to dump the gig of guarding the wee people and get back here to use his muscle to get us on ‘Trading Spaces’?" she asked. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" Halbarad said, sitting on his temper like a chicken on her first production of the day. "I would," Nelaer, his mother, said. Halbarad waited, waited knowing that the Translyvannia Twist was about to be unleashed. "But," she said with a grin that would scare a warg out of the garbage, "it seems he's absent more than Maris on Frasier." "Maybe he's busy." "Maybe he's being fitted for his crown at Rivendell, or," she spat out like spewing a crewman's guts from Alien, "maybe he's on a cattle call for Burger King." The PI gave his mommy dearest a look that ought to have stuck four inches out from between her eyebrows, but since her head was made of kyptonite, it deflected, not even leaving a dent. Throwing his hands up, Halbarad cut his losses and strode out of the house like the loser of the World Poker Championship. He struck a Foghorn Leghorn pose on the fence to contemplate the mysteries of why Beaver Cleaver could never get another job acting, when a voice that made Cruella de Vil sound like Mary Poppins ordered him down and into a sideward leaning shack decorated in the Martha Stewart French Countryside Collection. "I'm going to tell you how burrs get stuck under saddles," Meneliel said pouring two fingers of Wild Turkey into a Daffy Duck jelly glass and putting it in front of him. She sloshed enough to sterilize Dr. Frankenstein's entire surgical tray into a Petunia Pig mug and dropped down across from him. "Where do burrs come from," he asked. "From getting your fanny too close to the bush," she said. "Some would say it comes from love, others...well, others would say it was just a case of Viagra not being invented yet. But life is short, kiddo, and some men too, but that doesn't stop us from scrubbing up to a deadly trap. Take the Last Homely Dad's house. I see you know what I mean. Just because something looks like a good ride, don't mean it's gonna do you any good." She slugged back half the Pig glass. "Has your mama never told you about this?" "As far as I know she's never been in the bushes or in the gardens of the Last Homely Dad," he said. "Too much upkeep. The eaves are too high above us. Not even a chorus of Hi ho, hi ho, off to work we go could keep us from being overcome by the desire to paint that scrollwork, to dust those beams, to reach for things we weren't meant to scrub." Meneliel poured another finger of whiskey into Daffy. "Then you're going to understand what I'm about to drop on you. Your mama was a tall kid, and when she wouldn't stop growing, her father feared she'd top out at Treebeard's eye level, so he loaded her up and took her to see if the Last Homely Dad could prune her. It was delicate work, but the Homely Dad was able to use a Dutch Elm remedy that did the trick. But it took months and your mama got used to painting the eaves, the elegance of singing the dust off the rafters, the sheer poetry of living the Miller High Life. When she stopped growing like a twig in mud and came back to us, she was as rotten as a log in a swamp. It took years for her to manage the blight that had crept into her bark, long years, years of knot holes and scale, but when she met your father, she found in him a kindred spirit, a man with a head as hard as a stump and a heart as soft as pine. They boarded up their lives and propped one another up like a new barn, but then, the worst happened." "Gilrean and Aragorn," Halbarad said. "Yep," Meneliel said, nodding like a bobble head doll on Kyle Petty's dashboard. "Short little Gilrean was going to have the life of ease and eaves." She patted the rough paw of the PI. "Don't be too hard on your mama, boy," she said. "She's had a harder time than a Bronze Burch Borer in a steel mill." Before Halbarad had time to follow up on this dirt he'd just been dished, Brandol poked his head in the door and gave them the head's up. “Trouble and one of the doubles just rode in.” Halbarad strode at the old man's side toward the barn. The bookend brother was in the barn trying to figure out the combination of his horse's saddle when the PI spied him. The elf-boy might be good in the eaves, but he wasn't worth spit in the barn. Halbarad flipped the strap like a switch and dragged the saddle off. "So what's up? I didn't think the boss would get out from under the beady eye of your homely dad until the Bee Gees go on tour again." One half of the brothers beautiful shook his head, sorrow dripping off him faster than the puddle of water widening at his feet. "Beats me," he said. "He got more antsy than Dan Brown on the witness stand, muttered something about putting flowers on his mother's grave and lit out." The bookend shook his head like Lassie after rescuing Timmy from a raging river with one paw tied behind her back and rocks tied to her tail. The PI grunted and wiped the spray of water off his face with the back of his hand. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," he said. "You know the boss; he can be as ornery as Ralph Kramden missing lunch." The bookend, looking like the top scoop fell off his cone, followed the PI to the house where he ran into the PI's mother. She looked him over like choice beef, flushed the color of the raw hamburger and winked. "Well, mae your Italian grandfather, Govannen, be hanged. How're you getting along, Elladan?" Nearly choking on his own spit, the PI stopped dead in his tracks. His mother blushing like Andi McDowell in ‘Sex, Lies and Videotapes’? Some people were harder to figure out than his tax return. Later, while snuggled up with his wife in bed, it hit him: his mother had called the elf by name, something no one could do or had ever done as far as he knew, unless the mirror-image boys were wearing nametags. He sat bolt upright in bed. "How'd she know?" he yelped. "How'd the old bat know which one of the bookends was here?" His wife smiled. He wasn't sure he liked that smile. "I don't guess you've looked the bookend up and down real careful-like, have you?" "Should I?" he asked. "Not unless ‘Brokeback Mountian’ is your favorite movie," she said. "But ‘9 Weeks’ was mine and every other female this side of the sea. We know what to do with some Jell-o and an elf." He lifted an eyebrow. "Oh yeah," he said. "What would you do with a ranger and tub of Jell-o?" "There's only one ranger I'd wrestle," she said. "Yeah? Who?" "Well," she said, a slow smile lighting up her eyes and face like candlelight on a warm summer night, "I'll show you." The following morning, the PI was all grins when he cracked open one eye to see the sun was already higher than the Today’s Show’s ratings. With no real good reason to give up a little more shut eye, he drifted back off to dream about Jell-o and his wrestling victory the night before. “Yo! Sleeping Beauty!” his wife called. “The king has left the building.” “What king?” he asked sleepily and wondering what his odds were for a rematch. “Our wannabe one, you dozing dolt,” she said. “He’s gone.” Halbarad sat bolt upright. “Anybody see him take off?” His wife shook her head. “Not even the chickens. Your horse is gone too.” The PI snatched his clothes from the floor where he usually left them and yanked his pants on. “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks, I’ll find my horse. I can track an ant over a steel girder.” Ray’s Dog There are several lines that bear mentioning. Meneliel settled herself into her chair heavily. “From desire, most of all. Some would even say love. Men’s lives are short and brutal. But to be forced to look up on that which we can never have is the most brutal test of all. This is lovely and so telling about the hard lives of the Dunadain and the sacrifices they made. Meneliel’s words are a word to the wise, no matter who they are. Envy never works out well. Quite profound. Nothing she saw with her eyes or created with her own hands would ever again rival the beauty of her memories. Another evocative line. I feel the weight of Nelaer’s sorrow and longing here. Meneliel has a deep understanding of why Halbarad’s mother has become the woman she is, and her compassion is admirable. I think the reader is able to gain a perspective on both women in Meneliel’s explanation to Halbarad. But it was then that the worst happened. Her greatest dream came true – for someone else.” The following discussion here between Meneliel and Halbarad is very revealing. Nelaer is jealous, but she’s strong, strong enough to recognize her weakness and act appropriately to prevent discord among the people. The sorrow of loving something outside of her reach has shaped who she is, but she still recognizes the dangers and makes sure her son never suffers such futile longings. Well done. Great insight into this character. The entire chapter is wonderful, but the parts where you delved into Nelaer’s character are brilliant. This could have easily been an information dump, but you crafted scenes that allowed us to see Nelaer’s behavior and seamlessly revealed what had caused her to be so surly. She dealt with her pain as best she could. You gave Nelaer depth and made her a sympathetic character even when she’s being annoying. I absolutely love this part. The wait for this chapter was worth it, but it just makes me want more. Is greed as bad as envy? Let me discuss this with the dog, and I’ll get back with you. Loved it! Karen Author Reply: Is greed as bad as envy? We're Americans. Greed is a virtue. I was feeling a little overboard with the Nelaer angst so thanks for the reassurance. Basically I just hoped I had enough canoodling in there to get everyone past it. The dog is hysterical, as usual. Oh, dear. I'm thinking entirely too much about Elrond and the Dunedain on Trading Spaces. I don't even want to think about what Brandol's doing with handcuffs, though.

pipinheart	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/22/2006
Poor Aragorn...Whatever it is haunting him, it would be better to tell someone... Those that love him wouldn't care what it is...And going off alone isn't a good thing.. Please update soon...Love it!! Author Reply: Hi, Pipinheart, Aragorn feels like he has to sort it all out for himself before he airs his dirty laundry. But you're absolutely right; he would have been better off to tell someone. Much better! Halbarad won't let him be alone for long, though. Needs his horse back, you know.

estel e edain	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/21/2006
thank you so much for posting the next chapter and i still really love this story great job Author Reply: Thanks, estel. Sorry it took so long!

Oshun	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/21/2006
I was so happy to read your new chapter. This is a great story and the last few chapters have been quite a read. Loved the stuff about Elladan and his mother and then his wife too! Nice light humor. “Right.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and licked her lips. “Of course, the right man could make me forget I ever laid eyes on a certain Peredhel.” Of course, I'm looking forward to the next one... Author Reply: I couldn't imagine the Dunedain women not lusting after Elladan. But I thought I should let the old married folks have a little fun, too. I like the idea that Halbarad is still hot for his wife after, oh, 40-odd years of marriage.

grumpy	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/21/2006
So Aragorn gone walkabout, and taken Daisy with him. Poor guy is just dazed and confused. Good thing that Halbarad will soon be on his trail. Elladan is another one who is confused, not knowing what is the matter. Not only that he is the male version of Arwin, to the dunadan woman. Oh my, Nelaer blushing, oh my. I do feel better towards her, now that her secret is out. The fact that see moved when Gilrean came back, she was jealous and knew Gilraen was blameless. That takes a good woman. Did I mention, I love your ranger village, and all the rangers in it. Author Reply: Yeah, Halbarad's going to have to go get his horse back again. I feel bad for Elladan; he really is confused and hurt. Nelaer is still oriented enough to recognize, inside, that she's the one with the problem, which is good. She rants a lot but mostly keeps away from direct confrontations. I liked the Ranger village, too, but maybe that's because I didn't delve too deeply into unpleasantries like plumbing and sanitation. Now the Rangers in it; I'm with you. You can have your pick - they're all very nice.

Linda Hoyland	Reviewed Chapter: 9 on 3/21/2006
A very interesting relavation about Halbarad's mother.I am glad to see Aragorn and Halbarad back together though it was for all too short a time, I do hope he finds him soon.Poor Aragorn ! Author Reply: Thanks, Linda. Don't worry; Aragorn won't get far.

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