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 A Hunting We Will Go, Ella/Ro/Aragorn [T.A. 2960 August]
Aragorn
Posted: Jun 23 2014, 05:10 PM


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Aragorn followed along with Elladan and Elrohir, they had caught signs of a nest of orcs that had taken up residence in the forests near Rivendell. Aragorn was all too happy to tag along with the twins in ridding the land of these orcs. Aragorn made sure to pay close attention to the twins, shadowing their movements and taking note of the things that they paid attention to while they tracked. Something he had learned before was that you could always learn something new and often times it would come from a most unlikely place. Of course it was not unlikely that he would learn something from the Elf twins. They were sharp and wise, the embodiment of their species. Aragorn was proud to be raised along side such fine Elven folk such as them.

Honestly, Aragorn knew he was blessed. He was raised by Elrond, to whom he considered a father to Aragorn. And he was raised up alongside a pair of fine Elves, brave of heart, wise of mind, and sure of hand. They were like brothers to him, and he could not ask for any better. Aragorn knew that not all were as fortunate and that made him thankful everyday. Aragorn had to remind himself that he was on a hunt and that he needed to keep his mind clear, which at times was a challenge for his mind seemed to always be full to bursting of dozens if not hundreds of different things. Aragorn took a moment to breathe deeply and imagined all the distracting thoughts vacate his body as he refocused on the task at hand, there were orcs to hunt, and they could not afford distractions.

Aragorn kept his bow in hand and ready, not wanting to be surprised by any orcs. His ears were on alert as his eyes scanned around, their footfalls barely whispers of the wind as they made their way to the last reported sighting of the orcs. Aragorn trusted in the keen senses of his brothers, he trusted them with his life, in combat as with all things. He only hoped that he would prove worthy of such things from them, and that he would not fail them should such a time arise.
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Elladan
Posted: Jun 26 2014, 06:49 PM



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Joined: 13-March 14



Estel was a quick learner, he had to give his young foster brother that much. He lived up to his name, taking after his forefathers more and more with each winter that passed. Estel was twenty and nine this year, and though Elladan had not been born in the Second Age, when his ancestor Elendil lived, his father seemed to think he was more like him than any other. Elladan had loved all the rangers his father fostered over the years, each time they withered and passed another heartache, but he had to admit, Estel he loved most. He had always seemed brighter, keener. His name suited him well. It was not his real name of course, and the ranger had known this for nine years now, but Elladan stubbornly stuck to it, no matter how strongly he identified with his birth name.

Elladan shook his head, scattering the thoughts like dry leaves in the wind. The tracks were fresher here. Shallow depressions in the moss, black smeared along the ribbed edge of a leaf that smelled definitively of orc, scrapes across a tree trunk that were most assuredly not from antlers. The larks above were silent, the breeze was blowing the acrid stench of a nest their way. "They are close," he mouthed, turning his head to give Estel a small smirk and gesture toward the knoll to their right. He wasn't worried about him. He was extremely young for both elf and Dunedain, but he was already skilled. He had learned much in the three years he had been absent, serving under King Thengel in Rohan, and Elladan had been quite impressed when they had met again.

He glanced toward Elrohir, raising a brow toward the fallen pine tree up ahead, its needles long since fallen into compost below and creating a convenient cover to see above the rise. Staying low, he moved swiftly through the undergrowth, silent, as he crept closer to the crest of the hill where the fallen tree lay. The peredhel dropped to his belly below it, peering through the broken remains of limbs to the small gathering of orcs below. There were only a few in sight, milling about, seemingly resting, but there seemed to be signs of many more than just theses few. He looked at the other two in question, not needing words to ask the obvious question, Where are the rest?
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Elrohir
Posted: Jul 5 2014, 09:26 PM



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Joined: 14-March 14



There was always something especially taxing about going out hunting with Estel, but Elrohir had long learned to keep the thought to himself, if only to keep himself from accidentally alienating him. Still, he was hyperaware of him only a few feet away, too engrossed in the task of reconnoitering the perimeter of the area they had to work with in the inevitable sortie they were headed towards to do much more than glance askance at the lone Adan, then at Elladan. Even the bowstring on Estel's weapon being drawn to full extension seemed blaringly loud in the tense silence, but their quarry didn't so much as move, and Elrohir's lips curled back in an unconscious gesture of disgust, too bothered by their unusual scarcity to take much comfort out of their conveniently neat formation.

Forgoing his bow altogether, too, Elrohir dipped sideways, scaling the length of a decidedly healthier pine in only a susurrant hiss of dark and heavy cloak folds being swept aside to free his hands for the task. The lower branches weren't sound enough to support his weight without risking a noisy break or two, so he was forced to ascend quickly, the golden-brown sap bleeding through the bark dripping into the spaces between his fingers. When he had assumed a perch that was more amenable to bearing his weight, he lifted his head and peered through the darkness of the copse, the muscles in his arms seizing immediately.

At length, he dropped back down, rolling to a knee and darting back to his place between his brothers. Slightly chalk-faced, he paused a moment, then tipped his head in the direction he'd seen the second half of the orc party not more than sixty yards away, slowly going for his glaive. If they hadn't had the advantage of the wind blowing their scent in a direction accessible to neither of the groups, they probably would have been on orc plates already—but since Manwë had apparently decided in their favor today, he supposed it was in their best interests to go all the way.

Exhaling softly, he wrapped a hand around the high grip of his polearm, and then glanced to Aragorn. Your call.
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Aragorn
Posted: Jul 15 2014, 06:38 PM


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Aragorn knew he wouldn't be able to match the stealthiness of his twin elven foster brothers, but damned if he wasn't going to try anyways. He nodded in silent reply. They were close, and if the stench wasn't enough to warn the hunters, the tense unease that Aragorn was feeling would be. He was just glad that it wasn't just him out and about, but he had the two people with him that he would trust with his life in a fight. While they weren't of the same blood, they were like brothers to Aragorn nonetheless.

Aragorn had stealthily peeked over the rise and was instantly thankful that they were down wind, despite the horrendous scent in his nose. There were only a few and they had the element of surprise. He looked to the two of them and told them of the strategy he had been quickly formulating as they peered over. Surprise attack. Hit them at the same time from the foliage with our arrows, take them down quick enough then we won't need to fight them all. It was a gamble, of course if things went awry and the rest of the orcs get alerted, between the three of them, they should be able to handle anything short of a small army. Aragorn was no slouch with a sword, but the twins were as deadly as they are majestic in their art.

Aragorn took the time to ready himself and let the others get into position. He pulled the string back and nodded to the other two, waiting for them to be ready before he fired.
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Elladan
Posted: Jul 21 2014, 02:03 PM



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Joined: 13-March 14



Elladan's gaze stayed focused on the group in the copse, waiting in silence while Elrohir scaled a nearby tree to get a bird's eye view of the terrain. He could feel Estel's tense presence at his side as he peered out at the creatures and resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him back down behind the fallen pine, as skilled as he had become in combat, there was always a niggling reminder in the back of his mind that Estel would always be just a human, and his silence was nowhere near absolute, nor were his reflexes so keen as to dodge an errant arrow without hearing the whistle on the wind a mile away beforehand as elves could.

Still, he kept his hands to himself, steadily pressing into the ground as he waited, feeling the tiny pricks of fallen needles in his palms, the sweet musk of evergreen sap mingling with the foul orc-nest stench in his nostrils. When Elrohir returned, he only glanced over at him, eyebrows rising in something like mild alarm at the realization that there was a larger group so close, and they were nearly smack dab between them with only the wind to hide them. Were it to shift suddenly they would be in hot water indeed.

He squirmed backward from beneath the trunk's cover, rising to a crouch and giving Estel a half-concealed look of doubt. It was a half-baked plan at best, but at this point there was nothing much else for them to do but move forward. If they could pick off the few waiting in the copse at least they wouldn't find themselves surrounded when their cries reached the ears of the rest of the pack, and that was the best they could hope for unless they turned tail and fled, but they didn't have horses, and Estel could only run so fast and far.

Elladan gave Estel the cover of the pine, rising to his feet and darting to the east to find a suitable tree to wedge himself into, planting his heels against the base of the branch and his back against the thin trunk. Rule one of an ambush: spread out, never give your enemy a single target. With an arrow notched, he pulled the string back until he felt the brush of barred fletching at the corner of his mouth and waited, his breath quiet and steady, so much calmer than it had been a thousand years ago. His gaze flicked over to relocate his twin, then he loosed. As the first fell with only the clank of its crude armor colliding with the ground, a second arrow was already flying after it.
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Elrohir
Posted: Aug 5 2014, 09:03 PM



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Joined: 14-March 14



It took Elrohir a moment of slack-jawed disbelief to spur himself into movement, tempted to debate the command Estel had just passed along. Their attention should well have been engaged on the pack behind them, not the small-potatoes group to the side—if they were going to play their precious four second initiative on a stealth attack, it seemed utterly counterintuitive to bother with them when the problem lay directly behind them, swiftly approaching. Orcs had terribly-developed auditory systems, perhaps they might not have even needed to waste the element of surprise on the hunting group approaching if they were quick and silent. In that second, he wanted more than anything to shove him into some undergrowth so that he and Elladan could reformat their plan of attack into something less suicidal, but by the time he had fallen back on task and felt ready to move again, he could feel Elladan already moving out to follow Estel's command, and he frowned, giving his own (obviously better) judgment off for wasted on a short-sighted Man.

He really did hate bows. Elrohir stuck the handle-end of his glaive upright into the peat, unslinging his from over a shoulder and darting off into the brush to see to the opposite end of the direction Elladan had chosen, one reluctant glance cast back at Estel as he went. If we die, it's your fault was what his flat, unamused facial expression clearly communicated, though he nimbly assumed a perch on a bright white rock escarpment, tasseled with hanging skeins of dry moss. Irritably raking his sap-crusted hand over a sleeve, he lifted an arrow, inhaled deeply, and loosed the nock.

The keen point slipped into the underside of a pondwater-colored neck with all the ease of a hot knife through butter, the victim slumping into a satisfyingly immobile pile. But as they had little time to waste on crowing over clean kills, he withdrew another arrow, cautiously searching what he could see of the treeline a few yards off to make sure Elladan and Estel were still participating without incident: he had the advantage of distance, and with the other two-thirds of the orc pack rapidly advancing on them towards Estel's direction, it was hard to enjoy this culling around the knowledge that that facet was going to be making their errand very difficult in no more than a few minutes. By now the handful they had hemmed in was in a chaotic disarray, members of the regiment (such that it was) scurrying around like ants in every which direction—their high-pitched screams were effective enough alarms for whichever of their brothers hid in the copse.
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