Born of Hope

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There are many stories in the history of our world.

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Most are lost,

scattered in the winds of Time,

beyond the memory of man.

But this story.

our story

should not be forgotten.

Papa!

Maia!

Run! Maia run. Maia run!

We came from the water,

It runs through our ancient days,

down the long years to this moment

coursing through our lives

like the bloodline of Kings

A swiftly flowing stream

of memory and sorrow

One drop of water

of blood

and then another

can become a ripple,

a river,

a rising torrent

unstoppable

which in time

breaks down all resistance

to flow free once again

on the journey to it's destiny

The remnant of the faithful

The Dnedain

the men of the West

were scattered and few

and beset by many dangers

For the Dark Lord Sauron

had not forgotten the past

and of all the peoples of Middle-earth

he held none with more hatred

and more fear

than the Dnedain

He spread his will amongst his servants

and through the long years

sought ever to discover if the Heirs of Isildur yet lived

so that he might destroy them

and the last of his greatest enemies

would be lost

forever

Hurry! Hurry!

Drhael!

Ivorwen! Gilraen! Go! Please!

I will not lose you all this day.

Arathorn!

You have my thanks sir,

and whatever service I and my family may provide you and yours.

We owe you our lives.

As I owe you mine. I thank you, lady.

You are most welcome, my lord.

We cannot stay here. Where were you bound?

I do not know, my lord.

Orcs burned our village, and slew our people.

Those who were not killed were scattered, I know not where.

Dorlad, my son.

Struck down as he defended us.

We would not leave his body for the cruel sport of orcs.

Your son shall have a safe resting place, lady.

You will come with us.

Arathorn!

Arathorn?

You know him, father?

Yes

Or I did when he was but a child.

If he is the same man,

he is the son of my friend and kinsman.

Our chieftain, Lord Arador.

Isildur's Heir.

What is it?

They're after plunder, it seems.

But these are but baubles.

It is strange.

Orcs seeking gold and jewels in the Wild?

to what purpose?

You're becoming more like him by the day.

Is that what he would have wanted?

He would have growled at me for letting you take his place.

"The wild is no place for my daughter!"

But I'm still glad I trained you.

So am I.

Lord Arathorn

They'll bring no news to whoever leads them.

Good work Halbaron.

Now we must bring these three to safety.

We go to Taurdal, our village, Lord?

Drhael.

My wife, Ivorwen. And my daughter...

Gilraen.

And I am Arathorn.

Son of Arador.

Indeed.

No, no. Do not bow.

When you come to my father,

you may greet him thus.

But for now,

we must make haste.

A jealous heart finds no room for true affection,

though it were standing right behind it.

What have I to be jealous about?

I saw that look between them.

Just as you did.

Your eyes deceive you.

Besides, it has nothing to do with me.

Does it not?

No!

Nor with you, Drhaborn.

And so Arathorn and his rangers led the grieving family North,

past the mighty rivers

and through the vast forests of Rhudaur.

A land that still enjoyed the watchful eye of the Dnedain

and brought them to his father, Lord Arador,

in the hidden settlement of Taurdal.

Come, my old friend and kinsman.

Let us bestow upon your son the peace and honour he has earned.

For I account your loss as my loss,

and your grief as my own.

Alas, no long sleep in ancient halls of stone

for a son of the House of Aranarth!

But I will not see your bones dishonoured, Dorlad,

when the servants of Evil try again

to drive the Dnedain farther into exile!

Farewell!

I've come to ask your forgiveness.

Long had I thought your feelings for Arathorn

no more than a passing fancy

and that in time you would turn from them

and look around you at last.

I did not understand.

Until last night.

Years I have spent by his side,

yet there is a gulf between us

that only the flames of a stranger's pyre could reveal.

I cannot vie with such beauty and such sorrow.

El, any man would be honoured to call you his.

I would cause him nothing but grief.

We found these after the attack yesterday.

It is strange how such tiny things

can bring such immense darkness

and change into our lives.

Lord Arador now had much to contemplate.

News of orcs assailing other villages came to his ears.

Peaceful homesteads, far from help,

were likewise menaced,

Taurdal filled as many of the Dnedain fled their homes

and sought safety in numbers.

And so Arador led his brave rangers

in a quest to rid the land of the menace

that had ravaged his people.

Yet the most trusted of his men,

would not be at his side.

How goes the harvest, my lady?

Bountiful, my lord.

I had expected a little more for my travels.

Are you leaving?

My father has charged me to seek out the enemy's purpose

in the cold mountains of the East.

Alone?

Yes.

A dangerous mission my lord.

Indeed.

There was a time when such danger would not have moved me

and every part of my being would happily travel to the end of the world

in service of our people.

But now?

Now a part of me remains here.

And that is my heart.

My Lord.

I am sorry my lady, I did not mean to upset you

I will look to the East

and await your safe return.

My Lady.

With a heart full of joy

Arathorn travelled far beyond

the fallen cities of Arnor.

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