The Trail is Dark (tag:Aranion)

[Lindethiel]

The world of men was not as quiet and peaceful as the Greenwood had once been. Always it seemed that there was something clinging in the air, a dark shadow or a cloud that brought with it the crowing of dark birds or the steps of something that didn't seem quite natural.
The world seemed to be falling under that shadow of late but the tall she-elf traveling through the lightly wooded paths of Ithilien hoped that there was a way to see past the shadows in the world of men. She hoped there was a light to be found, if one wanted to find it that was.

Lost in her thoughts as she wandered the Lindethiel of Greenwood continued down the path, watching the birds fly overhead and listening for the sound of footsteps from a distant stag or fox. It was then that she noticed something entirely different, something that made the hair on her neck stand on end. Her hand felt to her sword slowly she drew it from it's sheath and turned. When she did she noted grey figure out of the corner of her eye- something was stalking her.
Hand on the hilt of her sword she continued walking her light foot steps creeping up the side of a rocky slope to which she pressed her self against waiting for what ever stalked her to walk beneath her.
Sure enough a small grey figure did.
On Orc.

The Elf of Mirkwood pressed her self closer to the rock focusing on the creature below it seemed confused as if it had lost something- something that she could only assume was her.
Quiet as a mouse she dropped behind the creature and drew back her sword and plunged it deep with it's back.
The Orc fell to the ground dead as dust but it was only then that the sound of a terrible laugh came from behind her.
The orc wasn't alone.

[aranion]

Death.

It was the only thing he could smell in the woods of Ithilien as the captain of Gondor and his men cleaved their way through another hoard of orcs that had passed through their lands. Was it the fourth this week? Maybe it was the fifth. He could not remember for he had lost count of the many hoards of orcs that kept passing through their lands. Surely, such a matter would have gathered the attention of the Steward by now, but the facts remained true and stood as a testimony that the line of Stewards was failing. The armies of Gondor still laid scattered around their realm, their cities were mainly defenceless... Gondor was failing, and as much as he hated it, there were only a few things that he could do.

Mainly attack the orcs that found themselves in Ithilien and protect all the innocent people from harm. With the rangers scattered around these parts, it was quite easy for a small hoard of orcs to escape their attention. That was exactly what he was doing, dressed in his full plate gondorian silver armour, as he cut down almost five orcs by himself, his men following him close by. His longsword, Oathkeeper, was filled with black blood from the many orcs he had wounded or killed, and as three of them scattered in the woods, he heard his men cheer from the back. Shaking his head, he silenced them with a raised hand.

Silence! This is no time for cheering. Run to Minas Tirith and inform the Steward of what we have seen. A foul evil is sweeping through our lands, maybe this time he will open his eyes and acknowledge the fact that our lands are no longer safe.

His men nodded and started to head back to Minas Tirith, but not before a few of them lingered behind. Captain, you cannot pursue the orcs alone. The danger...

Is acceptable, Luthen. he said, with a small smile, and pointed far in the woods. Go. I shall find you in Minas Tirith. Tell the men that the first round is on me, today. With that, his men were gone, and Aranion started running towards the direction the orcs had headed.

Sooner than later, he found one of the orcs lying on the ground bleeding to death. He remembered slicing one of its hands off, and before the orc knew it, he plunged Oathkeeper inside its chest with a lot of anger. Filthy orcs, raiding the lands of his forefathers, endangering the people of Gondor. He would slay them all. Looking on the ground, he saw a few footprints that were leading deeper into the forest. Reaching a small hill, he witnessed a woman cutting down one of the orcs he had been hunting. What she hadn't realised ,however, was that the last orc was behind her, ready to attack.

Aranion lost no time. With a mighty yell, he jumped from the hill and plunged his blade inside the orc's chest, pummeling it on the ground. For Gondor! Pulling his longsword out of the corpse of the orc, he sheathed it and turned to look at the woman. She was an elf, by the looks of her. Raising an eyebrow, he coughed and bowed deeply.

Mae l'ovannen. he said, trying to remember a few words that his father had taught him in elvish. I am Aranion, son of Elegast, Lord and Captain of Gondor. You have chosen an ill time to dread these woods, my Lady, for Orcs have been seen roaming here countless times. I trust that no harm came to you, and I arrived in time to help.

[Lindethiel]

A loud shout spun Lindethiel around just in time to see an orc axe held high about to plunge her into the world of the dead. It was a somber thought one who could live to see the ages turn to dust dying at the hands of creature who never should have existed in the first place.
It made her stomach churn and her head ache as she remembered that her own husband had died at the hands of such a creature.
Thankfully before the axe could find her the sword of a man- the very man who had shouted- plunged through the back and into the chest of the orc spilling black blood onto the ground between them, some of it splashing upon the feet of the elvish woman.
Her eyes found the stranger before her a man dressed in the full armor of Gondor. A breath escaped her chest as she sheathed her sword.

"You have my gratitude good sir." She said at his greeting. "I fear that orc find themselves in many places they should not be, and if I fear them then I should never have left halls of my kin." The dark haired woman placed her hand upon her left shoulder and then slowly extended it to the captain before her. "I am Lindethiel, of the Greenwood." her light eyes caught his and she saw that he wanted nothing but peace in his lands. "Tell me Captain Aranion, how is it that the world of men has not ridden out against these creatures? Do you wait for a sign of open war?"

[aranion]

As he greeted the elvish lady, Aranion felt a growing pain coming from his back. Not again. The old wound had flared up again, which meant that he would have to rest for a few minutes before going back to Minas Tirith and try knocking some sense in the Steward of Gondor. The lands were crawling with orcs, someone had to do something about it. He wouldn't care whether or not he was going to be branded a traitor, but he wouldn't let the lands of Gondor or even Middle Earth suffer any more. But first, he had to remain idle and rest.

How he hated idleness, stillness, restlessness. It was a waste of time in his eyes but there wasn’t much else he could do. This was one of those rare opportunities that Aranion allowed himself to lower his guard. Aranion was a warrior, his body trained from birth to be resilient. However, all the training in the world couldn’t prepare him for that night. Whilst out on his mission he had been attacked by a group of orcs and they had injured his back, leaving a scar that ranged from his left shoulder to the right side of his lower back. He had been fine, though it hurt like hell. He had killed the orcs and left, but that night had awakened memories of the death of his father.

Deciding that it was no good crying over spilt milk, Aranion turned his attention to the fair female elf in front of him. Aranion faced the woman. She was beautiful, that was obvious. But, there was something about that woman that made him feel fascinated by her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was an elf. He hadn't seen many elves in his short life by elven standards. Or it could be the fact that she knew how to defend herself, much like himself. He had always had a soft spot for women who showed courage and valour when men would run away.

He extended his arm as well, but instead of shaking it, he fell on his right knee, taking her hand gently and kissing it for a second, before rising on his feet yet again. Chivalry came natural to him, there was no way he wouldn't show the appropriate amount of respect to a lady who was also an elf. He sighed and shook his head when she spoke of having to leave her kin. My heart is filled with sorrow by your words. There is no greater heartache than having to leave your loved ones or your kin. May you be reunited with them soon. he said, and then her question made scratch his beard furiously, a sign of discomfort.

Do not judge us ill for what I am about to say, fair Lady Lindethiel, but the line of Stewards is failing. Long have I tried warning the Steward of Gondor of this increasing darkness that sweeps through Middle Earth, but all my efforts have been in vain. Our army is scattered, our cities are defenceless. He sighed, and but he raised his head with pride after a second. I am but a Captain, though my men have never been more resilient in destroying this evil. I would ride against the Orcs and their master any day, but we are only twenty men. While we would take many with us, our deaths would be in vain. The only thing that I can do is fight against this evil from here for now, and hope that the Steward will see the light and the error of his ways soon.

[Lindethiel]

The she-elf nodded her head as he spoke, he was kind and bold and all the things one expected of men upon the first meeting with them. Surly he would do good in his quest to destroy the evil the challenged his lands. Men were strong they said, and so they would have to be.
"There is no ill thoughts in my mind for the men of Gondor, Captain Aranion." She said her ears and eyes ever vigilant for more orcs or any other dark creature that might haunt this path. "Your steward will see reason, hopefully before he sees too much blood spilled."

The she elf rested her hand upon the pommel of her sword as they spoke and she felt the gentle breeze from the path stir up wisps of her hair from her shoulders and back.
"Will you ride back to Minis Tirith?" She asked he blue eyes flickering in the waning daylight. "It would be my honor to ride back with you, only I do not have a horse."
It wasn't customary for an elf to ask men of such favors, but it would look poor upon his honor if they were to arrive back to his home with her trotting along side him. "I would like to see the white city, and perhaps find lodging for the night."

When so close to Mordor Lindethiel had been told it was best not to sleep away from the walled cities of men. Taking rest in the open was warranting an attack by orcs and death came quickly to those who slept alone and unprotected- but before death the Orcs always had their sport. The she-elf felt the edges of her leaf shaped ears twitch at the thought of such senseless brutality. How could creatures such as these truly even exist? It was a question Lindethiel had asked her self often as of late but cared not for the answer. She chose not to see the darkness in the hearts of men and elves, she wanted to believe there was still good to be seen in the world around her.