The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 4: Evil Tidings

Gerithor did not halt until he burst into Aragorn's tent. Then he did stop, and with some surprise at that. For Aragorn was not alone: Captain Halbarad was with him, but also a dark-haired elf with a strange grim air, whom Gerithor had never seen before.

All three looked up at his entrance, their discussion breaking off short. Halbarad smiled when he saw it was Gerithor; they knew one another well, and he was almost like a second father to the young Ranger. The elf, however, put a hand instantly to one of the curved daggers in his belt.

"Cousin, there you are!" said Aragorn. "This is Caledorn; he brings tidings from Rivendell and the lands about."

The elf relaxed slightly.

"Yes. I'm sorry I did not come sooner; reuniting with my family distracted me." Gerithor's feeling of sheepishness was mitigated by a reassuring look from Halbarad, and he stepped over to the older man's side, waiting for someone to break the silence. It turned out to be Caledorn who spoke first.

"My scouts informed me that there are orcs gathering in the ruins of Carn Dum, and men of Rhudaur as well. And trolls have been seen in lands far south of their usual haunts. One scout told me that she had seen a cloaked Man riding on a warg, and I hesitated to believe her – until I heard you speak of the same." He turned to Gerithor. "What do you recall of his appearance?"

"He was tall," Gerithor answered slowly, dredging up the memory. "His eyes ... his eyes were blue, almost an unnatural blue. He wore iron armor, like that of the ancient Numenoreans; and he spoke elvish, but with an evil accent." Gerithor halted, unable to remember anything further.

"He had command over the wargs around him," Aragorn put in. "I have not seen, nor even heard, of a man controlling a Warg."

"It is strange indeed," Caledorn acknowledged. There was a long silence.

"My lord Aragorn," said Halbarad finally, "I would suggest that we prepare to evacuate Esteldin. It is too near the enemy."

"We do not know when they plan to strike, though," replied Aragorn, "nor what their purpose is. Send a party north, Halbarad, to track their movements."

Halbarad bent his head and turned to Gerithor. "Send to your father to gather twenty good men, and have them meet in front of the armory," he ordered. "Tell them to prepare for a scouting mission."

Gerithor nodded in salute, and left the tent at once.

He banged the door to his house open vehemently; the family was at dinner. "Halbarad has need of you, father!" he said breathlessly.

Gerimond looked up, startled, but saw only his son. "Have I taught you no manners, Gerithor?" he inquired with a teasing smirk. "Don't barge in without knocking first."

But Gerithor paid it no heed. "Father, it is urgent. Halbarad needs you at once."

Gerimond stood slowly, lifting his cloak from a hook on the wall. "Say on, son."

"It's a scouting mission," Gerithor explained as they moved out the door. "He said to gather twenty men and meet at the armory."

Gerimond nodded. "Very well, I'll get them at once."

Gerithor turned, to run back to Aragorn's tent. His father grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think you're going, lad? You're one of the twenty men I was going to bring with me!"

Gerithor looked at his father, surprise and excitement swelling in him. He had never accompanied such an endeavor before. Trying to mask his wild exhiliration, he said quietly, "Yes, sir."