User blog:High Prince Imrahil/New Series?

I'm working on a new concept. If you are not familier with the Nimrodel Rangers, they are the Prince's personal force of elven spies and assassins. I was thinking about doing a new series about them, a spy story filled with intrigue and mystery: something James Bond-ish. . . anyways, read this and see what you think.

We are the unseen hand of the prince.

Surely you did not think that Swan Knights and Tirith Aear Wardens were the only weapons at Dol Amroth's command? The army of The Prince is like a proud broadsword, and we are like a glittering dagger.

It is against all concepts of nobility and honor to assassinate. Yet when a rebel lord or Haradrim chieftain is leading a campaign against Gondor, we do not stand by and watch our city burn. Since the very days of Imrazor we have fought for Dol Amroth, doing more then any king or baron. Yet ours is the work without honor, and never do we get due credit.

The victory against Castamir? The success of Thorongil? Without our help, none of that would have been possible. Yet still the credit is given to whatever lucky lord happens to be leading Gondor at the time. You will hear of Thorongil, but never of the assassinations and sabotage our agents did to make that attack on Umbar possible. You will hear of Cirion and Eorl, but never of how we poisoned the Wainraider's chieftain, or how we ambushed the orcish hordes and lessened their numbers by more then nine tenths. . .

Yet we do not begrudge the lack of attention, for it makes our jobs that much easier. My name is Ingold, and I am a Nimrodel Ranger.

My greatest mission happened several years ago, just after the War of the Ring. . .

It all started one day while I was sitting at a dark booth in The Tipsy Camel, a cantina just outside Poros. I was sipping some cactus liquor, when a strange man walked in. He was fair-skinned, had a scruffy beard, and I could've sworn I had seen him somewhere before. . .

He chatted casually with the bartender, then sat directly in front of me. I kept a hand on the hilt of my dagger.

"Who are you?"

the stranger laughed

"You don't recognize me??"

Suddenly I did: It was Gaerion son of Herendil, captain of the Nimrodel Rangers! To people like me he was a legend, a myth, a shadow that nobody ever quite saw. . .

"What in the name of Manwe are you doing here?!" I asked in urgent whisper

His face was in a wry smile

"What else? I'm here to talk to you, Ingold. Have you heard about the Prince's latest campaign?"

"No. . ."

"What kind of spy are you?? Well anyways, he's striking the Crossings of Haradwaith, and the Haradrim have him far outnumbered."

"What are we going to do? Sabotage Haradrim war tents? Spook the Mumaks? Light tents on fire?"

"No!" he said with a mischievous glitter in his eye "We think that it is their leader that gives them courage. His name is Veauntur, he is a warlord of Umbar. If he dies, the whole army goes into disarray"

"Ah. . ." I said, finally understanding "So this Veauntur needs to be removed?"

"Yes. Now listen closely: go South twenty miles until you find a small village. In this village, ask for Nazir the Smith. He is one of our men, and he'll give you all the information you'll need."

"Got it"

"And Ingold? Good luck."

I casually adjusted my turban and left the building, ready for whatever adventures laid ahead. . .