The Family Line Part 24 – An Ending Too Soon

Part 24 – An Ending Too Soon

The morning was cold and damp. Water stuck to Theomin’s jacket like beads and then dripped away. There were no sounds nor smells in the dense forest air as Theomin and the master of the paths trotted through the dense, dark forest. Though there were no sounds, a momentary noise would stop Theomin’s leader. He would stop their progression and both lay low for a while until he gave the signal to continue on.

After a while they approached a fork in the slightly warn forest path. Without hesitation the ranger took the left path. It seemed he had been that way before, as there was no hesitation in his movement at the fork. Theomin soon grew tired of the quiet nature of the man he was following. He continued to look at the man, waiting for him to mutter a word or at least make some sound. He did not. In fact, even his foot movements were silent. Theomin had to talk. He grew to weary of silence in the dark, dense wood he was traveling through. It reminded him too much of the day before when he was trapped and alone.

“I am…”

The ranger shooshed him as he knelt. He then motioned for Theomin to do the same. They were behind a rather large boulder which was surrounded by a few tall weeds. Not too far, away some distance from the path, was an orc. Like Theomin saw the day prior, it was a dark skinned orc with a white hand splattered on its top. It was just standing there, doing nothing. Theomin looked at his leader, who had his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for something to happen. It never did and the orc continued on its way, away from the path and through the mist of the forest.

“You are what?” the ranger whispered.

After a while, he forgot what he was going to say, then, “Oh, I am Theomin.” He whispered back.

“I know your name, friend of the Wold.” The ranger whispered in return.

Theomin nodded. He wanted to engage in conversation but was lost as to what to say. As they continued on, Theomin then whispered, “Can you tell me who you are and where you are from?”

A few moments passed before the man spoke up. “I am Andreg.” The man finally spoke after looking around at the trees. “I am from Breeland.” He then fell silent. He seemed not up for conversation.

They continued on for a bit, hiking up a hill and along the side of a steep cliff to the right. “And what brings you to the Gravenwood?”

Theomin was not sure of what the other rangers told Andreg. He told the ranger as if he was telling for the first time, “I am on my way to Eriador to find my parents. I know not who they are or how I ended up in Rohan.” The man continued, like before, unfazed by the story Theomin was telling him. Theomin continued, “Upon searching the place I was found, there was a map with hash marks written on it by the counts of one, two, and three. The first was just east of a place called Fornost. Have you heard of it?” The ranger stopped. He looked back on Theomin suspiciously. He then continued as Theomin followed. Again, Theomin continued, “I do not know what to expect up in Eriador. Are there orcs there as well?”

Andreg stopped. He looked back again and with the slightest whisper said, “Yes. Are you needing to talk this whole time?” The ranger snapped at Theomin. His eyes and tone were that of frustration.

Taken back, Theomin just fell silent. He had not the feeling of comfort walking along the path with someone and not having a chat. Regardless, Theomin did what the ranger wanted. Not long after he shut up, they heard some rustling in the wood just to the left. It took not but a few moments to see another orc. Andreg and Theomin, again, hid. The orc looked in their direction. Andreg picked up a stone and hurled it passed the orc. The orc looked in the other direction and that was when Andreg stealthily ran and slammed his sword into the back of the orc. He covered the mouth of the orc so as to not allow it to scream. As the orc succumbed to the stabbing, Andreg gently let the orc down into the soft bed of leaves. He returned to Theomin, “I apologize for the sharpness of my attitude. There was an orc very close to us and I needed to listen for its movements.”

“I understand,” Theomin said, grateful the man who was leading him was not an ill-tempered fellow.

“You would like to know more about my homeland?” The ranger asked. “It is lush and green with trees and ponds all around. It has rolling and steep hills filled with healthy green grass. Saeradan, Amlan and I have been living there for some time now. We lived just north of the town of Bree. A fare sized hamlet on the Greenway and Great East Road. We would often gather for drinks at the Prancing Pony or speak of events and jest in Saeradan’s cabin. Recently, though, there has been a quiet malice stirring about the village of Bree which has broken up our high spirits. Brigands and orcs have been a menace to the small settlements. It has been a dark shadow that has crept into Breeland. Though it was staved off I know not what will hold the darkness at bay”

For a while, Theomin took in what Andreg said. “I hear Saeradan is in Breeland now.”

“This is correct. He has taken our fallen brethren back for a proper burial with the rest of our kin.”

“Is Saeradan a friend?” asked Theomin, who knew what the feeling was like to leave friends.

“A dear friend. But he has gone to accomplish his duty. I have my charge.” They stayed quiet while walking just a few yards. “How fares the Prince Theodred?”

The thoughts Theomin had poured in about Keymel when Andreg asked. It was only a few nights past when Keymel told Theomin of Theodred’s death. He remembered eating with Keymel in Helm’s Deep at the time. “Theodred,” he said sadly, “has fallen.”

Andreg stopped. He looked on Theomin with wide eyed sympathy. “That is troubling news for Rohan…and for us. At the end of this, I will bring the ill news to my kinsmen. How know you this news?”

“A good friend in Helm’s Deep informed me of this not but a few nights past.” They continued on up a steep. Theomin could see the light of day approaching and he knew he was almost out of the accursed wood. “I know, though, that if Eomir were to take Rohan, after King Theoden, Rohan will be rebuilt stronger.”

They approached the edge of the wood. The sunlight blinded both at first until their eyes got used to the light. Not far to the south was a tent and a single ranger sitting by a fire. Andreg approached the lonely ranger while Theomin followed. “Amlan, you old loner!” Andreg jested to his friend.

Amlan looked up and stood to greet his friend. “Andreg, my old friend.” They both embraced with mutual admiration. “And who is this fellow?”

“This is Theomin. He is traveling north.” Andreg said. “Is the orc presence still increasing west of here?”

“It is,” Amlan shook his head. “Every day they increase. I know not how they get their numbers but it troubles me. But,” he pulled out a sword, “it is certainly nothing we cannot handle.”

Andreg looked to Theomin. “This is where we part ways. Amlan and I will distract the orcs long enough for you to escape west. Follow the path north. Most of the Dunlandings in league with Saruman have passed south. You will find some friendly settlements but do not approach them. It is best just to stay on the road north. There are few friendly places but do not mention Rohan. They only give trust to the rangers and even then we are unsure if they truly trust us. Only mention our friendship with you in the utmost emergency.” Andreg patted Theomin on the shoulder, “Now wait for our signal.”

The two rangers ran toward the orc encampment, screaming and wailing as loud as they could to attract the wrath of the orcs. Their plan worked as the orcs engaged them in combat, fiercely and with much anger. Only a few moments passed and Andreg gave the signal to leave, pointing to the west in between attacks. Theomin ran with all speed down the slopes and past the skirmish. He wanted to wave goodbye to the men who helped but did not want to distract them. He just continued to run further down the path until no sight nor sound were had. He slowed and looked back. There was nothing.

Eventually, he continued along the path alone. Before the Gravenwood, at least he had the companionship of Bragga, but she was gone. He felt alone again. The hills were steep and sparse and dry. No grass nor tree grew on them. The tall cliffs lining the path were unsettling as they rose dauntingly above him. It felt as if they were giants, staring down at him, ready to fall upon him. The path drew on further west and around the cliffs on through Dunland.

It took much of the afternoon to walk the winding path through the treacherous mountains. Finally, as Theomin rounded a steep, he saw a sight he thought he would never see again. There were rolling hills and green grasses and great cows that populated them as trees rose up from the ground. It was much like Rohan. He finally made it out of the steep valley he was in. And off in the distance, he looked upon a single horse, white but dotted with light brown spots. Bragga! She still had the pack on her back just like she had before she ran off. She just stood there, chewing on some grass, not acknowledging Theomin was there. He happily approach his good friend but as he got close,he heard rocks drop from behind him. He looked quickly but saw nothing from atop. He then heard movement to the left. He wanted to mount his horse as quickly as possible to evade whatever was making the noises but almost as soon as he had the though, he felt a sudden impact on his back. He turned. Nothing was there. He was not sure what it was. Was a stone thrown at him? Just a few moments later, he felt pain and an ice cold feeling running down his back. It was then he realized there was an arrow stuck in his back. He tried to grab at it but as he touched it a sudden piercing pain hit Theomin. He looked up behind him. An orc bowman stood at the top of one of the steep cliffs drawing back another arrow. Theomin ran west along the path, passing Bragga as fast as he could toward the green grass. He felt more winded then he ever had before. He heard the wiz of an arrow passing him and then another, and then another. Again, another impact hit his right arm. This time, he could see the arrow sticking through his arm, the filthy head of the arrow was dripping with blood. Panic flowed through his being as the arrows were so painful and blood poured out his wounds. From his arm, blood was flowing. It soaked through his tunic. He could not bend his arm as it was too painful. He just held his arm with his other hand, not sure how that was going to help. He let his right arm hang as the blood flowed out from his hand as water flows down a waterfall. He ran as fast as he could but his wounds made him winded and he was soon out of breath. He collapsed to his knees and crawled slowly to the grass. His eye sight faded to darkness as the last things he could see before he collapsed on his stomach were feet of Dunlandings and then orcs. A few glimpses of Keymel, the ranger Andreg, and then his sister and mother back in the Wold were the last flashes he saw. All he had the energy for was to say, “I’m sorry,” before all faded to black.

The End – My Skyrim quest generator ran out.