Gondor Ranger Novels & Stories

His touch was again warm. “What the hell?” He yelled. “I—the forest is scary.” I stuttered. “Learn how to walk!” He gruffly said and let me go. “And stay away from me.” Kent sped walked the rest of the way, and I tried keeping up. Till finally, the trees became thinner, and plain grassy land came into view. We didn’t walk far before we ran into the river. “I usually transform to get through the river, we are going to have to walk on the mountains to the right here—that’s going to add another two hours.” Kent exhaled. He sounded exhausted. Ditto buddy!

Nine was their sacred number since it connected the nine realms that existed within Yggdrasil. “I choose Gungnir, the great spear of Odin, Angurvadal, the stream of anguish, Gram, who brought death to Fafnir, Freyr’s sword, to fight when I am weak, Dáinsleif, to inflict wounds that never heal, Lævateinn, so that my step will never falter, Skofnung, the supernatural blade, Hǫfuð, the great sword of Heimdall and lastly Mjolnir.” Malachi chose his nine gifts and the rest were returned to the vault. These gifts would be sent to his house in Seward and he knew Jessica would banish them to his study.

"The Silvercrest Pack, the Mountain Pack, the Greyhound Pack. The list is endless." Gwendolyn remained silent for a moment. Then her eyes fogged as she communicated with Ryder through the mind link. Now that she bore Kieran's mark, she could communicate with his pack members. [Ryder, what pack is Lord Ragnar from again?] [The Silvercrest Pack. What's wrong?] [I saw something, but I'm not sure.] She closed the link and focused on Jenzo again. "Thank you for your generosity." She said with a smile. "It is an honour, Miss Bowen." Jenzo bowed.

Zan whispered. "Insurance in case we are stopped," Gandr said briefly. Zan noticed his face had changed again, this time to a gnome with a very flat nose. When he saw the Guardian's questioning look he chuckled. "This guy is a bit of a hothead. Others tend to avoid him." They went through the tunnels and sure enough, no one stopped or questioned him. Gandr held Zan's arms behind his back, but was not overly rough, and both scanned for danger.

“Hold it? This isn’t a fortress—it’s a tomb.” “Then we make it theirs,” Mireya said coolly. A dark figure appeared at the treeline, his silhouette unmistakable—tall, broad, his cloak dragging through the frost. Behind him, an army of wolves in half-shifted form fanned out across the ridge. Eryndor. He stepped forward with measured calm, his amber eyes glowing faintly under the silver sky. “Kaelen,” he called, his voice carrying easily through the still air. “Still standing, I see. How stubborn.”

Ten days to decide how much of herself she was willing to surrender. Ronan rode beside her most of the time, his massive bay gelding dwarfing her mare. His two Eclipse warriors—broad, quiet brothers named Torin and Gage—flanked the rear wagon, eyes constantly scanning the treeline. The Crescent guards kept a respectful distance, sensing the shift in authority whenever Ronan was near.

Something as malicious as his whole presence. "Let's get down here. Set a tent!" Ragnar ordered his guards before halting his horse. He got down and the first thing he did was to sharply glance at her with his hunter-shaped eyes. They made eye contact and she almost jumped before quickly looking away. Jasper and Fiona also got down as they began to tie the reins of their horses to the nearby tree.

His tone dripped with sarcasm, but Eryndor remained resilient, his expression unwavering. Eryndor was in bit trouble, his gaze swept all around the room, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and caution, searching for something that might reveal a clue or satisfy his growing unease. "Move!", Lord Arinthal's subtle gesture made his guards walk into prompt action. They grasped Eryndor's arms, their grip firm, and led him away. Constant sound of clanging metal and creaking wood was echoing through the corridors as they descended into pitch darkness.

I shouted, pulling Dren with one hand and signaling Warren and Mara with the other. The clearing erupted behind us as another bolt sliced through the dark, hitting a tree so close the bark exploded outward in a shower of dust. The ranger was still firing — hidden, precise, unpredictable. His presence threw the Silent Mark into disarray, but it also meant the forest was no longer simply dangerous. It was unknowable.

Rain was pouring heavily, leaving some loose strands of hair dangling around her drenched face. Her black converse bonnet is soaking wet and it felt so frore on her head. Calming herself, she listened to the voice in her head, having no other options for help. The creature before her kept grunting as if speaking in a language she doesn't understand. "Now Luna, orcs are VERY dumb. All you need to do is repeat after me, and by my signal you should sprint to the direction I told you—to that dark alleyway."