The Shadow in the Corner

[KC]

Strider, they called him here. A small smile flickered across his face. Well, they would call him Strider to his face if they were brave enough to draw near to him. The name was merely whispered in low tones dripping in fear and apprehension when they thought he wasn't listening. However, he was always listening, and he had very good ears.

They didn't want him here. This amused him, since there were so many less desirable characters filling the bar seats in the Prancing Pony. However, he was silent, tall, and hooded. They did not know whether he was good or evil, and this made them uncomfortable. He could understand where this uncertainty about him came from; he had all his life strived to be good, but he knew that there was the great evil of corruptibility in him.

They didn't want him here, yet he kept on coming here. It wasn't to be difficult. This was simply his only link to mankind. He was a Ranger, one who lived in isolation in the forests, wandering as if he had no purpose in doing so. In the forests, he had no knowledge of what was happening in the world, and that is why he needed the Prancing Pony. He was a man and occasionally he needed to be around other men, despite the curse that he carried in his blood.

However, he never approached anybody, and no one ever approached him. He was Strider, a dangerous Ranger to them when he was not in the tavern, and when inside the building, he was a silent, shadow in the corner, nothing more and nothing less.

[shiekel]

Walking into the Prancing Pony, Reb gazed around the inside of the building. A warm fire lit the common-room, and there were tables and chairs all over the eating and common rooms. The rooms, though roomy, were so full that they gave the impression of a close, closeted space that was full and over-flowing. She could hear no words that the inn-keeper spoke to her, so loud was the din of everybody talking.

However, over in one corner there was only one man, and there were spare chairs and tables around him.

Walking over to that corner, Morchaint reb Perquendi noticed how quiet it was, how dark and life-less the man seemed to make the area he was in.

Picking a seat as far from everybody as she could, Reb sat down, ordered a small meal, and watched the man in the corner.

[KC]

He could feel eyes upon him. This truly wasn't unusual. People enjoyed gawking at him. He knew that he terrified and mystified those who frequented the Prancing Pony. He liked to keep it that way, to avoid any questions which might reveal the man they called Strider. He didn't want people to know the truth.

But this gaze was different. There was no fear in the eyes which were sneakily watching him. He felt as if he was being regarded as an equal rather than a threat. It was as if those eyes could relate to his isolation. Those eyes which most definitely belonged to a female.

Something about this woman watching him made his heart ache for Rivendell and for the divinity he had left behind there. Not of his own will, of course. If it had been up to him, he would have stayed with her in that haven until they were separated by his mortality. But those closest to her had suggested that he leave, for her own good, of course. He would die for her, so he had left her in safety.

He realized now, why this woman made him think of his own love. She was at least part elf. He watched her from under his hood, making sure that she could not see his own eyes. What was her type doing in Bree?

[shiekel]

Though she had seen no inclination or turn of his head, Reb knew the strange man was watching her. His gaze was not threatening, or aggressive, merely....observational.
Being inclined to be bold and upfront, Reb decided that their game of peek-a-boo was futile. No true information would be gained either way, so she might as well talk to the man.
Walking stiffly over to his small booth, Reb looked the man in the eye and said "I have seen many who are unaccostomed to company, or shunned, but never one so intriguing as you. Why is it that you are so far removed from others?"

[KC]

He managed a small grin in this woman's direction, not that she could see it from under his hood. Sending forth one final puff of smoke from his pipe, he laid it down on the table.

She must be new here. No one really ever approached him. Most deemed him to be the spitting image of hostility. They formed opinions that made them too frightened to even glance at him. This woman did not, and he was instantly grateful to her for that fact.

"I am removed from others," he said in reply to her question, "since I choose to be."

[shiekel]

"That is not usual in so small a village as Bree." Reb knew little of Bree, but all small villages were filled with warm, gossipy people. "Unless you do not live here? You're appearance portrays one much used to the road and hardships." Reb could relate to that feeling only too well.

She wondered how this man would reacte to someone forcing conversation on him. Obviously he did not prefer to speak with all the drunken, roaring louts in the main area, but his countenance was not that of a cold person. Rather he seemed like someone who was used to loneliness and keeping his own counsel.

"Where do you come from, and why are you in Bree?"

[KC]

He smiled, and lifted his pipe to her in the gesture of a toast. "You appear to know much of what you speak of, friend. I gather that you live in an isolation akin to mine."

He looked at her from underneath his hood. He was fairly certain that she was making conversation with one whom she believed to be a kindred spirit, but his reasons for being her truly were not his to tell. She seemed as alone as he was, though, so a little friendly conversation might benefit the both of them. "I am here waiting for a friend," he replied at last to her truthfully, "though I prefer to live the life of a veritable vagabond in the forest. It suits me much better."

Taking a closer look at this woman, he was almost positive that she must have some elvish blood in her. "May I ask where you come from, my lady, and why you rest now in Butterbur's humble tavern?"

[shiekel]

"I come from every trail, marked or no, in every wood, valley, and marsh in Middle Earth. I come from over every mountain and under every knoll. I come from, as you guessed, an isolation as deep as any Man, Elf- or Half-Elf- can experience. No business other than wandering brings me to the small town of Bree, and the Prancing POny seemed rather welcoming." Reb answered, pleased that the stranger was willing to converse with her.

She sat down, looking the Man in the face.

"Will I disturb your business by passing the time with you? I've had no Common conversation in many months, and would rather have speech with one who understands, somewhat, my lifestyle than a drunken, leering man such as one finds" she jerked her head at the bar "elsewhere in this inn."

Reb suddenly felt very tired, but was loathe to leave her new companion. She signaled to Butterbur, that she might get food to sustain her, for she did not yet wish to leave.

[KC]

"Since I have nothing better to do than observe the patrons of this establishment until my friend arrives," he responded with a slight smile, "your presence would be most welcome. I must admit, it has been a long time since I have held a normal conversation with anyone."

Butterbur noticed the lady's signal and was walking over to the table. It was amusing to note that the man seemed surprised to see another person sitting at the table with him. "I must warn you," he told the woman, "that you will be considered 'dangerous folk' if you choose to converse with me."

It was a good think that the innkeeper was coming over, because his new acquaintance appeared to be rather hungry and tired. He put his pipe to his lips as Butterbur approached the table to take the woman's order.

[shiekel]

"Perhaps, Man, I /am/ dangerous folk." Reb said with a smile.

After asking Butterburr for a half-loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, and some ale, Reb turned back from her compainion.

"What business have the Dunedain, the Ranger-folk have in the simple lands of the Shire and Bree?" watching for his reaction, Reb continued. "Yes, I know of the Rangers. ONe with as keen an eye as yourself may have notcied my Elven heritage." here Morchaint gestured to her ears, "I am half-elven, as my surname would describe." Here Reb paused. "We have not been introduced, have we? Well then, I shall start the trusting. I am Morchaint reb Perquendi, ((per=half quendi=elf)) the unfortunate result of a passionate meeting between a Man and an Elf. You are one of the Rangers, descendant of the Ancient Kings. Possibly you are one of the direct descendants of Isildur...? Either way."

She paused for a second, wondering how he would take this. Reb didn't know why she trusted the man with so much. She simply felt that he was worthy of such trust.

"Untill 80 years or so ago, I lived in or near Rivendell. After that, I wandered out on my own, eventually performing the same "tasks" and duties as the Dunedain, only on my own. Living in Rivendell, one learns many things. Also, since the Dunedain are so closely linked with the Elves, I learned to recognise them...."

Reb paused, thinking. When she had left Imladris, there had been a small Ranger child there. He had been 9 or ten when she left. Could this Man be Estel, the Hope? Morchiant studied his face intently.

"Anyway, I digress. What is so importand about the Hobbits, that the Dunedain would watch them? How do they relate with the events of the Dark Land?"

[KC]

He could not help but to chuckle slightly when the woman proclaimed that she might be dangerous folk, but then he raised his eyebrows in surprise as she she spoke of the Dunedain. She spoke as one who might recognize him. The name Isildur made him unconsciously recoil slightly. She had been in Rivendell; she might remember his face. He brought his pipe to his lips to steady his thoughts.

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Morchaint," he said, speaking finally to break the silence. He allowed a tiny grin to cross his countenance as she spoke of her parentage. It reminded him all too much of a certain lady he had to keep out of his mind for fear of going mad with loneliness. "You have the elven gift of keen sight, assuredly, for I am indeed a Ranger."

He settled back it his chair. "However," he continued, "I fear that is all I shall ever be." He failed to tell her that this was only of his own choosing. "I am known as Strider."

He trusted her, truly he did, but he would never reveal his true name. He had adopted Strider after he had buried his past, and it suited his vagabond ways well. He had possessed the opportunity to be more, much more, but he was determined to let his line die with no more blemishes and scandals. By staying away from his ancestor's bane of power and might, he could avoid the weaknesses in his blood.

"As to your question about Hobbits," Strider said, "they are interesting creatures, aren't they? To persons such as you as me, they pose a great mystery, do they not? They are born, live, and die in one place, and the wanderlust that flows through our veins never touches them. They might seem even a bit boring and naive, but the friend that I am meeting here is convinced that at least a few hobbits are capable of great things."

[alatariel]

((oops. this was supposed to be by Morchaint reb Perquendi, but I forgot to switch. my bad))


Reb felt slightly rebuked by Strider's reply to her question. Something that Hobbits were capable of doing? That would require thought.

"Please, Strider, call me Reb. Morchaint is rather too formal for regular conversation. And it is a...painful....reminder of my unfortunate parentage, to most." Reb paused, burning with a desire to ask the Man questions of Rivendell.

"I have not been to Imladris in many years, Ranger. Tell me of the happenings there. How fair Lord Elrond, and his daughter, the Lady Arwen? And, have you heard of the one child, the one who was supposed to perhaps be capable of reclaiming the Throne of Gondor? What has happened to the one named 'Hope'?" Reb leaned forward, eager for news.

[KC]

((OOC: Don't worry about it! It's funny that Gandalf should reply, though, since he's the one that Aragorn's actually waiting for, in a sense! ))

"Reb it shall be then," Strider agreed, with a quick bow of his head. "It does seem to fit you." He couldn't hold back a quick smile. "I am sorry that you are so ashamed of your parentage, but I imagine that is a subject you wish to avoid. As far as all of the old stories tell, relationships between men and elves seldom end happily."

This thought troubled him considerably. He wished that the statement were not true, but he had been taught too much to be foolish enough to doubt its validity. He must put it from his mind for now, but Reb's questions of Rivendell made it impossible to do so.

"As last I heard," Strider replied, "the Lord Elrond and the Lady Arwen are still living blissfully in Rivendell. However," Strider had to pause to clear his throat a bit, for this subject always wrecked havoc on his emotions, "I have heard talk that the elves are leaving, journeying into the West, to escape the troubles that they have foreseen."

He had to stop and bring his pip to his lips once again. Strider truly hoped that Reb did no mind the smoke, and she hadn't said anything of yet.

"The boy, Estel, has grown since you last saw him," Strider said softly. "Rumor has it that he has renounced all claim to the Throne of Gondor and lives now in self exile."

[shiekel]

((OOC: Where in the storyline is this?))

Something about the Strider's reply to all her questions gave Reb pause. The news that Elrond and Arwen lived happily had brought a flash of-some strange emotion to the Man's eyes, for all that he masked it quickly. And the news that Estel had renounced his throne was terrible. He was the hope of the West.

"I am sorry to hear that the Elves are leaving. That is truly terrible, for will they not take the Silmarils with them?" Reb's eyes grew dark as she concidered this. "The last weapons which preserved the peace of Middle Earth....gone? That is indeed ill news, though I wish the Elves all joy."

Recieving her food from the inkeeper, Reb began eating, minding her manners and hoping to not offend her companion.

After she finished her brief meal, Reb looked at Strider, searching. His voice had sounded-hollow-when he spoke of Estel. As if he were forcing an answer-or hiding the truth. Still, she took him at his word.

"That Estel would live in exile, and abandone the world of men is terrible news!" She exclaimed. "Surely he /must/ know that he is the one great hope? Estel=the Hope. Why would he doom the whole world to suffer under Sauron?! " She paused, and calmed herself down, though she continued talking. "Without the Heir of Isildur, the Army of the Dead cannot be commanded. They would be an invaluable aid. Also, Who else to rule Men? If we were able to defeat Sauron without Estel, the Men would start an equally devastating war among themselves. That is a terrible turn of fate, indeed." Reb fell silent, thinking she had said too much.

Then, pulling out her own daintily caved pipe and a bag of Southfarthing weed, Reb joined Aragorn in his smoking.

[KC]

((It's when Aragorn meets up with Frodo and company as they are looking for Gandalf. However, since we're missing two hobbits as of now, Aragorn is very glad to have some company! ))

Reb's outburst did not truly startle Strider. He was used to this sort of thing, hearing that Estel's exile meant certain doom for all of Middle Earth. However, he knew what he was doing, as did Gandalf, Elrond, Arwen, and Galadriel. They might not all agree with him, but at least they understood his reasoning, the necessity he had to bury his past and to live and die in anonymity.

Strider finally smiled at Reb. "It may not be as bad as you perceive it to be," he assured her. "I knew Estel's reasons, and I deem his thinking to be wise. No one has forgotten that this Estel was the descendant of Isildur, and I doubt that anyone has troubles recalling that Isildur allowed evil to live and flourish when he had the one opportunity to destroy it forever. He was a weak man, and his frailties were passed down in his bloodline to the child called Estel. The one man who is supposed to unite a race suffers from the same problems of one who has brought a cursed name and many hardships to this same race. Estel would not bring more woe to men nor more shame to his family name. He knew what weaknesses threatened to overtake him, and he chose to go into exile rather than to repeat the mistakes of Isildur."

[shiekel]

((Ok.))
Reb hung her head. "But he is not Isildur..." she whispered brokenly "He is only the descendant of him, and enough strength....." she lasped into silence. "But that is his decision, I guess, and not to be second-guessed by a filthy half-breed."

After an uncomfortable pause, Reb began searching for a new topic of conversation, one less....deep. Gazing at a shifty-eyed man at the bar who was getting roaring drunkn with his fellows, she found it.

"It is a sad thing indeed, " Reb began "that the Dunedain and rogues such as myself are met with such hostility, while those who are probably a much greater threat to peaceful people " she gestured at the man whos name, though she didn't know it, was Bill Ferny "are greeted warmly..."

[KC]

"Filthy?" Strider replied in a shocked whisper. "Mellonamin, in one breath you tell me that Estel is not his ancestor, and in another you degrade yourself because of your background." He stopped to shake his head. "I have known you now for only a short time now, but you are one of the few people in this room whom I would not consider filthy." Strider flashed Reb a small smile. "I am a good judge of character," he assured her. "Oh, and you are also free to second guess anyone you choose."

He got the feeling that she wanted to change the subject, so Strider looked over at the man to which Reb was referring. "In a tavern such as this," he said, "frequent patrons who guzzle down pints faster than you and I can take a breath are often very welcome. It's the people who can leave here with the same clear thoughts with which they entered that irk those selling ale."

"Seriously, though, we are met with fear and hostility for the simple reason that we are different. Most people are afraid of the unknown." He shrugged. "I cannot say that it tears me up. There are more worthwhile friends to make in other parts of the world."

[shiekel]

Reb was somewhat shocked by teh vehemence with which Strider answered her remark.

"Yes, I do not mourn not being able to talk with such as them, and yet..." she could not bring herself to tell the Strider that this was one of the longest conversations she'd held in her life. Even in Rivendell, the Elves had been reluctant to talk to her, and elsewhere she was met with fear and distrust. Strider had, among the Dunedain, most likely had comrades, companions, and friends to talk to, she thought, but did not think any less or more of him for it.

"Estel carries his anscestor's blood, not his weakness. The weakness lies in the heart, and the heart of the Dunedain has only grown greater and stronger in the years since the Last Alliance. But I degrade, not myself, but my conception, which was illegitimate and wrong in the eyes of Elves and Men. For it has separated me from everyone. I am not trusted by Men, and I am looked at with pity by the Elves..."

[KC]

"I am most sorry if I seem too fervent or even perhaps upset, Reb," Strider said, knowing that he might have surprised the woman. "I must beg for your forgiveness. However, I..."

He trailed off. Strider trusted Reb. Truly he did, and he believed them to be something of kindred spirits, but if he revealed to her what he had been about to say, it might give away everything. She probably know already, though. Anyone with any elvish blood in them was all the more perceptive and intuitive. He mentally shrugged.

"Perhaps I am a bit biased. And a bit lonely right now." He shook his head with a small smile. "For you see, I carry the same burden that your parents did."

Strider looked down into his pipe. Why was he doing this? Did he think that it would make anything better for either of them to say this? It was so strange and uncharacteristic of him to even be talking to a stranger, but yet, here he was, chatting away no better than any hobbit would be doing. "I met an elven maiden during my time in Rivendell, and I fell madly in love with her. We humans go weak and lose our hearts and minds in the presence of perfection."

He shook his head sadly. "But I do know that relationships between elves and men only end in heartache and sorrow. Her father has done much to remind me of that. I have had to distance myself from her, and it has been painful, but, if it is what is best for her, then I would do anything."

[shiekel]

Reb looked the Man in front of her, seeing for the first time what had been only hinted at in their conversation. In all his speech about her parentage and what they'd spoken of before, she'd had a glimpse of sorrow, and she now saw the reason for it.

"Humans are not the only ones who are weak," Reb replied "nor are they alone in losing their hearts." Reb had never felt the strong pull of true love before, but she had known enough of life to know that of which she spoke. "But perhaps this maid's father" Reb was beginning to have a shrewd guess of the names of both the maid and her father "is a bit over-zealous in his protection. As I myslef am testament of, though they are destined to be few and short, love between Elves and Men is not entirely unheard of, and can bring joy. Luthien and Beren, for example.... Reb sat quiet for a moment. "If this wondr'ous lady loves you, then perhaps it is best for both of you to find what joy you can, before the War that is fast approaching."

Reb sent a perfectly rounded ring of smoke through a crooked, weak one Strider had just blown. The new ring blotted it out and in the glow from the fire across the room, the smoke ring seemed to be a solid golden band, or ring.

Reb did not know why, but she hoped that whoever it was that Strider was waiting for did not come. She enjoyed his company, and felt that there was something she needed to do, some service she could render to heal his heart.

[KC]

Strider smiled at Red, and even chuckled as she put his smoke ring to shame. That was definitely her elvish side; elves and wizards, in Strider's experience, quite enjoyed showing off.

"Thank you, mellonamin," Strider said to her, after he had finished laughing at her smoke ring. "I do not know if you have any idea of how much your kind words mean to me. You are quite right about the maiden's father. He only wants what is best for his daughter. I want what is best for her to, and that is why I feel such guilt by being so selfish as to refuse to relinquish her love."

Strider sighed softly as he put his pipe thoughtfully to his lips. "I told you how the elves are leaving Middle Earth, traveling to the Grey Havens where they can escape from the dark times that are coming to our lands. If she would only go, she would live forever in peace and happiness, knowing no death or pain or sorrow. He father says that it would be best for her to leave here, and I cannot argue with him. I do not want her to be exposed to the danger and the troubles that are looming over us even as we speak."

Strider stared blankly ahead, into the throngs of drunken men without truly seeing any of them. "But I know that when she leaves, I will lose my reason to wake every morning."

A man dropped his pint, and the mug clanked loudly as it hit the floor, its contents flying everywhere. This brought Strider back to his senses, and he looked guiltily at Reb, a slight blush even appearing for a moment on his cheeks. "My most sincere apologies. I... I cannot fathom compelled me to say that, but I am sorry that I made you listen." He had not spoken of this, not even to his elvish friends, so he had no idea of what must have possessed him. There was something so very sympathetic and understanding about Reb, though. Strider really could not put a finger upon it.

[shiekel]

Reb was amazed at the level of trust this Strider had apparently placed in her.

"You have obviously made youre choice, mellon" she said slowly. "But what good is an eternity without love? If you, for the shortest years of Mankind, must feel such loss as that, then what gift have you given her, that she should endure that same torment for all time? You speak of bleak hope for your scant years left on this world without her, but she shall bear the sorrow into the end of all time. That is no great gift to bestow on one you so love." Reb was a bit surprised at the bold words she spoke, but felt that they were fitting: if Strider trusted her at all, she wanted to help him.

"And Strider?" she looked at him. "Never apologize for giving voice and vent to emotions. It is not a weakness, nor something to be ashamed of. It is what makes us...alive."