Home | Literature Index | Movies & Broadway Index | Television Index | Music Index | Miscellaneous Index | Submit Your Own
Excerpted from Doc Strider: Ranger of Bronze -
The Czar of the Rings with apologies to Kenneth
Robeson/Lester Dent
It was dark in Rivendell, and only occasionally did
the faint light of the moon break through the clouds
to illuminate the shadows which lay across the elven
city.
One of the shadows seemed to move and detach itself
from the others. It moved quickly across a small opening,
then gestured. Two other shadows slipped furtively across
the opening behind it. One of the occasional glimmers
of moonlight appeared and briefly dispelled the shadows,
revealing three orcs. The orcs, their short swords at
the ready, ducked under the cover of a building and
waited for the light to pass.
"I ain't likin' this!" hissed one of the orcs, the youngest.
"Nobody said nuthin' about infiltratin' an elven city!"
"Shut up!" said the leader of the small band. "We's
got a job to do and we's gonna do it!"
"Do you know what the elves will do to us if we gets
caught?" the first began again. "I ain't likin' this!"
"Do you know what the boss will do if we don't succeed?"
hissed the larger orc back. "Or, maybe you'd rather
face the Eye."
"The Eye!" exclaimed the orc. "No! No!"
"Then shaddup and do your job." The moonlight had vanished
again and the lead orc slipped off without another word.
The second orc turned and gave his partner a disgusted
glance then followed.
"I'm just sayin' I ain't likin' this." said the small
orc, to no one in particular. He started to follow his
two companions, then stopped. He suddenly heard a strange
sound, a strange trilling sound, which had appeared
on the slight breeze. The sound unnerved him, as it
seemed to come from everywhere at once. With a gulp,
he darted forward to catch up with his companions.
Almost immediately he stumbled and nearly fell over
something soft lying on the ground in the shadows. Another
pale glimmer of moonlight appeared and he gasped in
surprise to see one of his companions lying unconscious
before him. Glancing about, he saw the leader crumpled
just a few steps away.
This was too much for the young orc. He turned to run,
then froze with a scream. A man, seemingly the size
of a giant, stood before him in the moonlight, reflecting
with an almost metallic gleam from its skin. A massive
arm reached out with a speed almost too great to follow
and grasped the orc's arm with what felt like a vice
of steel.
The orc screamed again and swung with its sword. The
man's other arm reached and intercepted the swing, grapping
his wrist. For a moment the two struggled. Then, the
man tensed his muscles. The fabric of his tunic ripped,
revealing corded muscles under perfect skin, tanned
by long exposure to the sun to an even bronze hue. A
flick of his wrist caused the orc to scream a third
time, as his sword flew from his useless hand, before
a massive blow to his jaw dropped him unconscious beside
his two companions.
The bronze man stood and looked around. He was the man
known as Aragorn, son of Arathorn. But, to the public
he was known as Doc Strider, the Ranger of Bronze!