Heroes and Leadership

~written winter of 2017~

Aragorn.

Where can I start?  I know I could write forever about my favorite fictional character; Aragorn has been a role model for me for a long time.  While he has been a favorite of mine since I found him in The Fellowship of the Ring, some of my fondest memories with him have come from the second book, The Two Towers; maybe the most poignant of them being his first sight of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings–and his decision to turn away from it to help rescue two little hobbits, simply out of love and loyalty.  But one memory from The Two Towers is a little less pleasant:

“At last Aragorn stood above the great gates, heedless of the darts of the enemy.  As he looked forth he saw the eastern sky grow pale. Then he raised his empty hand, palm outward in token of parley.

“The Orcs yelled and jeered.  ‘Come down! Come down!’ they cried.  ‘If you wish to speak with us, come down!  Bring out your king! We are the fighting Uruk-hai.  We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come.  Bring out your skulking king!’

“‘The king stays or comes at his own will,’ said Aragorn.

“‘Then what are you doing here?’ they answered.  ‘Why do you look out? Do you wish to see the greatness of our army?  We are the fighting Uruk-hai.’

“‘I looked out to see the dawn,’ said Aragorn.

“‘What of the dawn?’ they jeered.  ‘We are the Uruk-hai: we do not stop the fight for night or day, for fair weather or for storm.  We come to kill, by sun or moon. What of the dawn?’

“‘None knows what the new day shall bring him,’ said Aragorn.  ‘Get you gone, ere it turn to your evil.’

“‘Get down or we will shoot you from the wall,’ they cried.  ‘This is no parley. You have nothing to say.’

“‘I have still this to say,’ answered Aragorn.  ‘No enemy has yet taken the Hornburg. Depart, or not one of you will be spared.  Not one will be left alive to take tidings back to the North. You do not know your peril.’

“So great a power and royalty was revealed in Aragorn, as he stood there alone above the ruined gates before the host of his enemies, that many of the wild men paused, and looked back over their shoulders to the valley, and some looked up doubtfully at the sky.  But the Orcs laughed with loud voices; and a hail of darts and arrows whistled over the wall, as Aragorn leaped down.” (528)

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A Good Movie

You know it was a good movie when you have to think about it for days before you find the plot-holes.

You know it was a great movie when you find the plot-holes and still love it just as much.

The Seventh Short Story: Nightfall

The last fiery sliver of the sun disappears behind the Arceis Mountains.  The sunset is burning itself out in the eastern sky, touching every dim thing with a bloody rose hue.

My leather boots slide on the wet grass.  I adjust my grip on my bow, and try to tuck renegade strands of hair back into my bun with one cold hand, squinting at my trail in the waning light.  The sound of a soft, squelching step jerks my attention away from the muddy prints on the ground, and I glance nervously at the nearby belt of trees, trying to tug my grey woolen cloak over my scarlet shirt. Of all the foolish things to wear. . .

There most certainly is someone lurking beyond the trees.  I slip closer. Several people. What’s going on? I feel for my dagger.  Why did something have to go wrong?  Avoiding the heaps of dry, crinkly leaves, I slide between the trees.

My blood freezes as I recognize Taral out of the group, and I freeze with it.  His jet black mantel is tinted red in the evening light. His hood is up, but no matter how many years it’s been, I know it’s him; that confident swagger, still marred slightly by a nagging limp from old wounds–the arrogant poise of those broad shoulders?  They belong to only one man.

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