Board Thread:Fan Fiction/@comment-26295802-20160614010310

Please note that this story was written long before I knew LoMM had a similarly named character. The Aragost in this story has no relation to his. Thank you.

See what you guys think of this story. It's a WIP, but I was hoping you guys could look it over and give me some advice [4:13 ]  Thus is the tale of Baranor son of Heladin, knight of Numenor.    Baranor was a young knight, not more then thirty years of age. He had a small frame, wasn't entirely good looking, and didn't possess the most witty tongue in the province. But he was the most kind and noble man in all the land. He lived in near-poverty to make sure all the farming folk got their fair share of money and food. But all that would soon change. It started when he went to a tourney in The Capital with his squire. He bid his old parents good bye, and set out.  The white walls towered above Baranor as he and his squire Ingold rode under with growing awe. Stretching out in all directions were white houses with sprawling gardens and tall towers and golden roofs. Many other knights marched in, each with their own coat-of-arms and party of squires and servants. Banners were streamed acrossed buildings, flowers thrown onto the road. It was like a grand parade as Baranor bent his head down shyly. "Oh, come now" said Ingold "Smile and wave! You're too shy, that's your problem!" Baranor waved off his friends advice "Humble is the term, Ingold, not shy. This city is being far too hospitable..." "Come now, enjoy yourself! Hey, look up there! It's Aragost!" Baranor looked up. A few knights ahead was the greatest champion in all Numenor, a living legend. He was the very image of a handsome knight, with his chiseled features, his jet black hair, and his clean-shaven face. He rode on the largest black stallion in all Numenor, and he waved proudly as he went down the street. It was Lord Aragost. "I don't think I've ever seen him loose a match" said Baranor "I don't think he's ever lost one" replied Ingold "But come now, we can still try for second, eh?" "I don't think so, Ingold. I wouldn't even go to these beastly tournaments of mother didn't make me." Ingold shook his head "You've been an adult for years, Baranor, your mother can't make you do anything." "Well, I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings..." Ingold started to say something, but was cut short by the ringing of trumpets. "All knights, please go to the arena! It is time for the tournament to start!" Baranor let out a sigh and turned his horse that direction. [4:13 ]  The tournament lasted until nightfall, and would resume the next morning. Baranor had two matches against minor opponents and won both. When evening finally fell, he retired to the tavern. It was a stone building, filled with knights from all over the world. Poor knights, rich knights, knights in chainmail, knights in leather. Baranor sulked awkwardly up to the counter. "Can I help you?" said the barmaid Baranor was struck dumb for a moment. She was tall and slender with long dark hair and a fair face. She was young, perhaps in her late twenties. "I'll... uh... take a beer, I guess" said Baranor at last The barmaid disappeared into the back. "Well, Baranor" said Ingold, sitting beside him "interested in a barmaid, are we?" "Was it that obvious?" said Baranor in an embarrassed tone "Only to me, I'm sure. I know you well, Baranor." "Fair enough, Ingold, fair enough." Ingold leaned in "Talk to her, Baranor. Ask her name. I know you don't have much experience with women, but trust me." Baranor nodded intently. "A barmaid?" said a smooth voice from his right "You can surely do better then that." "Lord Aragost!" exclaimed Baranor "I did not see you there! I must say, I've always wanted to meet you in person." Aragost leaned on the wall and gave a repulsing condescending smile "More then that" said Aragost "tomorrow we meet in the joust. That means you'll get to look up at me from the flat of your back after I unhorse you." Baranor laughed uneasily, then realized Aragost wasn't kidding. "Well... I'm glad to have a worthy opponent" said Baranor in an attempt to be nice "Wish I could say the same" said Aragost, draining the last of his beer "But there are worst ways to spend a day. That barmaid for instance..." And with that, Aragost left the counter.<span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> "Not the nicest fellow" said Baranor mildly Ingold looked at him with incredulity as the barmaid came back with a wooden mug. "Aye, there ye are, sir. That'll be twopence if ya don't mind." Baranor drew a few copper coins from his pocket and set them on the counter. "One more thing" Baranor said shakily as Ingold smiled encouragingly "I was wondering if I could have your name, perchance?" She smiled as if she enjoyed the attention "The name's Anne" she said "I'm from the Thorostar in the north. And you?" "Baranor" he replied "I'm from Nindamos in the south, myself. "Well it was nice to meet you, Baranor" she said "But for the moment I must get back to work." "Then I'll see you tomorrow" he said Ingold's head went flying into his hands as if his sire had just made a terrible blunder "I'll see you tomorrow, Lord Baranor" she said as she went to serve another knight. "What is it?!" said Baranor to Ingold "She said she had to get back to work" said the squire "You were supposed to say 'could I meet you after you're done working?'" "Why would I do that? It'll be night time by then."  [<span class="light_only" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:inline;">4:13 ] <span class="message_star_holder" style="box-sizing:border-box;"> <span class="message_body" style="box-sizing:border-box;cursor:text;display:block;">Ingold grimaced as if hit with pain. If it were possible to drive his hands all the way through his head, he would have done it at that moment "Forget it, Baranor, forget it. You're a pain to work for sometimes, even if you are my friend. You know that, right?" Baranor shrugged as one not understanding, and went to his room to prepare for the next day.<span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> Baranor gripped his lance and settled into his horse. He had faced one other opponent today and met him with success. Now, to the cheering crowd, he faced Aragost. "Lean left" whispered his squire as he prepared to charge "He tends to hit towards the right side. Lean left, and the lance will glance off. And whatever you do, don't take your eyes off the target." Baranor nodded and grasped his horse's bridle. The trumpets blew, and he flew forward like an arrow from string. The next few moments were hazy... a blur of action and clashing. But he reached the other end of the field to find himself still on his horse. He looked back to see that Aragost was not. The crowd was silent. Their hero had been unhorsed by an obscure knight. The silence grew almost eerie, as a trumpet blew. Baranor felt like he was in a dream as the announcer declared him the winner of the match, and with that final win, the winner of the tournament. There was a blur of excitement as he excepted his prize and headed back to the tavern. He looked in vain for Anne, then went to his room. He found Aragost standing there, flanked by two bodyguards. "I underestimated you" he said "But you have beaten me. And you shall pay."<span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> Baranor backed a little towards the door "What do you mean?" Aragost smiled with a malice so thick it could almost be touched "We can't have simple country knights beat the hero of Numenor, can we? This will be a lesson to those who get in my way. You should be happy, Baranor, because you will be an example for times to come. An example of what happens to my enemies." "But I don't want to be your enemy!" said Baranor "I just ran the match! I didn't know it would come to this!" "All the same. I let one person get away with beating me, anybody will beat me. Dreadfully sorry, Baranor, but I'm afraid I'll have to kill your squire." "What?!" said Baranor with a mixture of disbelief and anger Baranor hadn't seen Ingold since he had won the match. He simply assumed his squire was in the beer tent as usual. Aragost gestured acrossed the road, where in the window of the next house, the very clear figure of Ingold was tied to a chair. "I thought you'd have a first-hand look" said Aragost as he primed a crossbow The bodyguards drew bows towards Baranor in case he tried anything. Aragost whistled in sick casualness as he carefully aimed his crossbow towards the figure in the window acrossed the street. Baranor closed his eyes. There was the sound of a bolt being launched, and a soft thud. Aragost turned on his heel and walked out of the room, flanked by careful bodyguards "Oh, and Baranor! By the way, if you want to talk to that barmaid, just come to my room. Apparently she has a thing for national war heroes. I'm not normally interested in simple women, but since you liked her, I made an exception. See you around." As the door closed, Baranor fell to his knees and wept.  [<span class="light_only" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:inline;">4:13 ] <span class="message_star_holder" style="box-sizing:border-box;"> <span class="message_body" style="box-sizing:border-box;cursor:text;display:block;">Baranor leaned back in the wooden chair of the bar. Anne wasn't there, but her older and far less beautiful sister was there to man the counter. Baranor was on his seventh drink, and was starting to feel it clouding his senses. He had hoped it would dull his anger, but it only heightened it. He envisioned himself slaying the bodyguards and killing Aragost in cold blood. And what a victory that would be... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not that he wasn't brave enough, but he couldn't bring himself to slay another man. Even in revenge, he couldn't quite bend his scruples to kill another man in cold blood. A figure appeared at the other end of the room. He looked fair enough to be an elf, and seemed just as kind. "Mind if I sit here?" he said Baranor shook his head The figure sat down and smiled. The smile was somehow warm and comforting.... yet there was something not quite right about it. "You were quite skilled in the tournament today" he said in a deep smooth voice "My name is Annatar, Lord of Gifts" he said "And I know that you could use a gift right now." Baranor glanced upwards with a look of suspicion "How do you know that?" Annatar leaned in conspiratorially "I am an emissary of The Valar" he whispered "And I know everything. They have given me leave to entrust you with a secret weapon. It will give you all of the power you ever want, and more." Annatar leaned forward and handed Baranor a small bejeweled box. The latter opened it with shaking hands to reveal a beautiful flawless ring. Full of beer and full of himself, Baranor slipped on the ring without question.<span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> <span class="para_break" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:block;height:0.5rem;"> His senses were keener, he could see the shadows as if they were light. He felt as if he had taken some of the Opium they made in the south. No longer did he fear the guilt of killing another man. No longer did he fear anything. Grasping his hilt, he drew his sword. Bidding Annatar farewell, he started up the steps and heard something with his sharpened hearing. "One down, nine to go..." muttered Annatar to himself "What was that?" "Hm? Oh, nothing that concerns you, Baranor. Go now and slay your enemy!" [<span class="light_only" style="box-sizing:border-box;display:inline;">4:14 ] <span class="message_star_holder" style="box-sizing:border-box;"> <span class="message_body" style="box-sizing:border-box;cursor:text;display:block;">Baranor flew up the stairs. Standing outside Aragost's room stood a half dozen guards. Without any kind of fear or hesitation, Baranor slew them with cold skill. At one point, a guard drove a spear into Baranor's stomach, but it slipped right through and did no damage as if striking air. This ring was truly powerful! Baranor kicked down the door, and standing at the window was a tall silhouette. Baranor, seizing a guard's spear, threw it with force. It screamed through the air and landed firmly in the figure. Only too late did Baranor realize that the figure was Anne. Before Baranor could react, the real Aragost who was sitting in the bed, gave a shout and threw up his hands. "You win!" he shrieked "Let me live! I can pay you!" Baranor smiled sweetly as he drove his sword into Aragost’s chest. He twisted it upwards and drew it back out. "Go to Hell... literally" he said coldly as stood over the body. Then, with reverence, he picked up Anne's body and walked back out of the room. Annatar walked outside with him and helped him dig a deep grave. "You'll be wanted all over Numenor for this" said Annatar "Aragost was a great hero." "I know..." said Baranor "But it was worth it in the end. To feel the adrenaline enter my veins as a slew him." Annatar nodded proudly "Listen, Baranor, you have matured so much lately... you have a good heart, lad, and I was wondering if you would like to be my assistant." "Assistant?" "Yes... I'm forming up a sort of ruling council for my realm in the south. You and eight other men... nine all together. I was wondering if you would like to join me." "Join you?" "Yes... the ring I gave you was merely a minor magic ring, but I have for you a ring with powers beyond your wildest dreams. A "Ring of Power" if you will." Baranor smiled "I think I like that idea, Lord Annatar. You've helped me out so much, and I think I would love to join you." "Are you sure?" said Annatar "The magic won't work unless you take the ring willingly, and I have to warn you that it's a very powerful gift." Baranor nodded and put out his hand Then, without ceremony, Annatar slipped a plain and unadorned golden ring onto his hand. Baranor felt as if his very body was being invaded by forces beyond his control. Automatically, he knelt. "My Lord Annatar, your word is my command." "And another thing, Baranor... refer to me as Lord Sauron from now on." <span class="message_body" style="box-sizing:border-box;cursor:text;display:block;">Such was the story of Baranor, first of the Nazgul... <ac_metadata title="A short story I wrote" notify_everyone="1465866190"> </ac_metadata>