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The Men of the North.

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Aramanth sat on alone at the top of a hill. The hill was now bare and noone came the anymore, but legend of old said thar once Elessar had built a great tower here to mark the end of the great evils. It was fitting it was in ruins now.
How many years, he thought, how many years since Gondor fell to the black ships. The batle had been great, the forces of the south gatherd round Mnas tirth, where all had fled after the destruction of Osgilath, and then the Rohirihm had came fufiling there vows once again and like a storm from the north rode to pelenor. The men of the city ran out knowing they fought in vain till all of them fell to the bitter sorwds of the south.
Arnor lasted not much longer and though, as in Gondor, they fought on desparate bands of men since the start of this age.
Now it was time. The omens were out. Now, after two and a half thosand years, it was time for war.
The men of the north would be here by dusk.
 

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Aren walked the gravel road with long strides. The wind played with his long pitch black hair and tossed his jacket around slightly. He made his way up the hill to where Aramanth waited.

He stood next to the tall man and pulled out his pipe, light it and took a long inhale and puffed out a large cloud of smoke. The wind blew the grey curtain away and it dissappeared as fast as it had appeared. He eyed Aramanth slightly from the corner of his eye.

"So, you're really going to war then?" he asked, slightly sarcastically. Aren knew perfectly well of Aramanths plans. "You're right, Shadowmind." Aramanth replied, ignoring the sarcasm of the arrogant man at his side.

"Well," Aren began as he brushed his hair away from his forehead, "I do still think that it's not the smartest of ideas. But then again," he smirked, "You people aren't exactly known for your smart ideas in history." He chuckled slightly at his own dry humour and sat down, stretching his legs and looking down into the valley that lay before them.

Aren narrowed his eyes, and sighed. Memories flashed by of his previous lives and adventures. He remembered everyone, and he remembered the sadness and horror of war. Then he remembered her, and remembered what had been between them in those dark times. And he cursed his long years and his mind for returning these things to him. But above all, he curses that he had survived to see yet another war plague the land.

Then he puffed the last of the smoke rings and got up again. "I'll be with the horses. We should head for camp soon." He said, dismissively. Then he strolled down the path once more. Leaving Aramanth in his wake.
 

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Aramanth smiled, war, it had happend, they would fight.
He looked north, the weather hills blocking his veiw, but he knew that there was all the women and children were gaurded, west there lay the forest, where no evil would venture for old Tom was there, andhe was master. Also left was the land of the halflings, who , despite there size, would not leave the land of there fathers, and the gaurdian of the towers who claimed desent from Merriadoc the magnificent, samwise the great and perigen , thain of the shire, would fight against the enemyto his last man. East lay the deserted valley of Rivendell, and south the dundlings fought for there land.
Then he caught a glimpse, far off, of light shining of spears.
"Ah," he said" The last of the Rohirim has arrived".
across the camp, man cried out in joy.
Now, he thought, at the next moon we ride south, to gondor, and to war.
 

Gúthwinë

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Tarkath looked up the hill, he saw the two talking and drew his bow, "At least if they are evil I will have the upper hand" he thought He then walked up the hill. "friend or foe" he said. His sword, which was called Stingwhip, flashed as he spoke...



(The rohirrim haven't arrived yet:D )
 

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there was the soft sound of unseen archers stringing their bows, for after living for 2500 years in the forest of the north, that now coverd Eriador, they would die for their cheif.
" Who are you to ask me?" Aramath commanded, " yet I will answer first, I am Aramant, son of Arathgorn, leader of the men of the north, for as gondor fell many years ago, so did Arnor, and now we have few freinds. our only hope comes from the Rohan or Gondor, who live secretly in the southern woods, yet they ride here to day.
so who are you?"
 

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"oh yeah thats where my father went to meet you, I am Tarkath son of Eotin, The Rohirrim left and I tracked them, my horse died three days back and I came here, from down there I didn't know if you were good or evil." Tarkath lowered his bow "so what is the name of this place..FATHER!" The Rohirrim came...
 

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"You rode with the rohirim? yet when you lost your horse you beat them here, though you be on foot? And your farther left you in the wild?" Aramath did not acept this as truth, but after Eotin claimed him as his son...
Well that was yesterday, belonging to a thoasand other yesterdays that ment little, it was today that mattered.
All of the forces of the north were mustered, the cheiften of Gondor, the cheiften of Arnor, the lord of Rohan, king of Khazad-Dum, the captin of the shire.
Slowly they made their progress, but soon all the plans were made, with the women and childern in serect places amounst the hills, the men marched forth to war.
The dwarves and the Rohan marched or rode down the road, with the rangers of gondor and Arnor moving silently in the woods to the side.
their plan was simple, to march to Ostoharmon, the south city ( its name came from Quenya, Osto-Hyarmen, south city), and there they would lure the Armies into battle, for conceling all but the dwarves, the south would underestimate them. The Rohan would sweep across the road and scatter them, acompanied by missle fire from the Rangers.
But still, Aramanth could not shift the feeling of unease with Tarkath...
 

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Tarkath couldn't care less where he was, he had made a new friend(after his father gave him a lashing for following them).He then drew stingwhip, it glew a faded blue. "Orcs are near." while the sword was out he polished it and oiled his sheath, the razor sharp sword was gleaming. Eotin then came over and sat down next to him. "son, I don't appreciate being followed.." "I KNOW dad!You have already given this lecture!" he then nodded and went with the other riders. Tarkath then gave a look of suprise. " The blade is true blue, they are coming!".......
 

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" Elvish weapons come in usefull it seems" Said Aramanth," Ambush, prepare to engage!".
Across the line men through down their packs and drew their blades and strung arrows.
The road had prehaps a hunderd ranger(feet) till the the tree line, before that was a plain of freash grass, here Rangers and Riders aimed, they could hear the Orc's.
" I was hoping we would make it to the south before we had need to fight, but-" aramanth was cut short as the orcs entered the plain.
" FIRE!"
 

Gúthwinë

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Tarkath fired his bow at the oncoming orc, it pierced him through the left side of the head and he fell. others fell as well, he looked on at Aramanth, he was shouting along with his father commands, every so minutes the orcs tried to charge but were pushed back. Tarkath then ran out of arrows."oh the heck of it! Death!" he drew stingwhip and charged into the open field. His Father was furious " should we charge?"...
 

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