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piosenniel · 01-28-2004, 02:26 AM

Hama of the Riddermark’s post

Roryn sat in the high branches of the trees of Ithilien smoking his pipe. He was almost invisible to anyone that would have looked up, but there were few people to look up into the trees in search of enemies now. He settled himself with his back to the tree trunk, with his legs bent upward in front of him, outstretched to the extent that is was comfortable, but gave adequate support. His bow hung off a small branch next to him and his quiver of arrows with it. He knew it was reckless to leave them there, but then, he reasoned, it was reckless to go to war as he had done. He remembered the day well of the Pellenor fields.

He let a whistle escape him. He started to hum a tune. He didn’t know where it came from or what it meant; only that it was a nice song. He supposed it was one of his own compositions, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had heard so many songs…

Green be the fields of silver,
Green be the land of ours,
White is the tree restored,
White is the crown of stars.

He knew it was awful, but he chuckled anyhow. It was about Gondor and its beauty, and so it was good enough for a mid-day hum in the middle of a wood. He smiled to himself. He hadn’t really before now truly appreciated what a beautiful place Gondor was, he had seen it ravaged too much by war for that. He sat in the tranquil of the woods and took another long drag on his pipe. He smiled once again, then unhooked his bow and quiver, slung them over his back and dropped down branch by branch until he hit the forest floor. A leaf crunched under him and he sighed, he was out of practice somewhat.

He made his way through the undergrowth slowly, picking carefully his route so as to avoid making noise. There were still things here that would not look kindly on a ranger of Gondor. He reached the edge of the woods within a few minutes and surveyed the horizon, nothing, good. He set off at a run in the direction of Minas Tirith…

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:55 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

01-28-2004, 02:26 AM	#7
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Hama of the Riddermark’s post Roryn sat in the high branches of the trees of Ithilien smoking his pipe. He was almost invisible to anyone that would have looked up, but there were few people to look up into the trees in search of enemies now. He settled himself with his back to the tree trunk, with his legs bent upward in front of him, outstretched to the extent that is was comfortable, but gave adequate support. His bow hung off a small branch next to him and his quiver of arrows with it. He knew it was reckless to leave them there, but then, he reasoned, it was reckless to go to war as he had done. He remembered the day well of the Pellenor fields. He let a whistle escape him. He started to hum a tune. He didn’t know where it came from or what it meant; only that it was a nice song. He supposed it was one of his own compositions, but he couldn’t be sure, as he had heard so many songs… Green be the fields of silver, Green be the land of ours, White is the tree restored, White is the crown of stars. He knew it was awful, but he chuckled anyhow. It was about Gondor and its beauty, and so it was good enough for a mid-day hum in the middle of a wood. He smiled to himself. He hadn’t really before now truly appreciated what a beautiful place Gondor was, he had seen it ravaged too much by war for that. He sat in the tranquil of the woods and took another long drag on his pipe. He smiled once again, then unhooked his bow and quiver, slung them over his back and dropped down branch by branch until he hit the forest floor. A leaf crunched under him and he sighed, he was out of practice somewhat. He made his way through the undergrowth slowly, picking carefully his route so as to avoid making noise. There were still things here that would not look kindly on a ranger of Gondor. He reached the edge of the woods within a few minutes and surveyed the horizon, nothing, good. He set off at a run in the direction of Minas Tirith… <font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:55 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.