Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 3)

Chapter 1: Grave News

   Piercing blue eyes shone in the blackness and a hand shot out, strangling Gerithor and lifting him off the ground. He struggled to breathe as he heard a familiar voice.

   "It's over Lastborn. It is as I have foreseen it. You have seen it too... The Dark Lord will once more rule Middle Earth!"

   The eyes came closer until Gerithor could see the face that they belonged to... Arnakhor, the most dangerous enemy Gerithor had ever crossed blades with.

   "Perhaps I should let you live... With the pain. The agony of losing everyone dear to you." Arnakhor stood for a moment as if pondering, then pulled Gerithor closer. "But I think not. You shall lose even more yet. You are alone in this world ranger. You won't even find a home among your own people now..."

   The Black Numenorean tightened his grip, and the young ranger's vision faded...

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   Gerithor sat straight up in bed, drenched in sweat and his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was breathing heavily.

   Just another nightmare, he told himself as he slowly lay back down. They were all too common. Mixed with the visions of the future he sometimes had, they gave him cause to rarely sleep. Even in the relative safety of the inn he was not safe from his nightmares it seemed.

   After taking a moment to get his bearings, the ranger stared up at the wooden ceiling, debating in his mind whether to attempt to sleep again or not. After a moment he sat up, convinced that he wouldn't be able to, or that if he did his sleep would be filled with more nightmares. He unconsciously ran a hand through his long auburn hair, then stood and strode over to his knapsack that he had left in the corner of his room.

   After a moment of rummaging through it, he pulled out a weather worn piece of parchment and unfolded it. He lit a candle and reread the letter for the fifth or sixth time:

                 My dear cousin,

                       It has been too long since we last spoke. Much has happened since then, some of                               which we must discuss in person. Meet me at the inn in Archet, on the twenty sixth of                      September. A week from now. I have news that concerns you, as well as a task that I                          need performed. Be ready.

                  Your cousin

                  A.

   Aragorn wasn't one to write letters... So whatever occurred was important, of that Gerithor was certain. He knew that his older cousin had been working closely with the wizard Gandalf, and wondered if maybe this meeting had something to do with that. Wherever the wizard went, trouble followed soon after.... Gerithor knew this from experience.

   But regardless of the reason, Aragorn should have been there by now. It was now the eve of the twenty sixth, and Gerithor knew that Aragorn was almost always early. Perhaps something had went wrong...

   A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Maybe that was him?

   But it wasn't. Instead it was the stocky barkeep, Ed. He held a plate with biscuits and gravy on it, as well as a bottle of wine.

   "Hoy sir!" He said with a big smile as he entered the room without so much as asking. "I brought ya some dinner, I did. Thought sum biscuits n' gravy'd help drive away the cold!" He set them down on the nightstand and turned to look at the Ranger, his face barely concealing his curiosity. "I couldn't 'elp but wonder why a traveler such as yerself would stop here, instead of going up the road a ways ta Bree..."