Chapter One
The Maid’s Account

On the Weather Hills in the Northlands there was a large Ranger Village named Fornost II. It was the only ranger village in the Northlands and all of the Rangers lived there in harmony, except for the occasional brawl. 100 Rangers lived there in five roomed thatched cottages with a small yard and a neat barn outback. The village also had a large market place and a small tower for the Chieftain and his family.

On the outskirts of the Fornost II, there dwelt Dirhael and his wife Ivorweth and their three children: Ganland the Brave, Gilraen the Fair, and Ivornen in a neat 5 room cottage and a large barn that held their milk cow, Masel, and their two horses, Frea and her yearling filly Frena, plus a yard full of chickens and sheep. Dirhael made his living as a carpenter, making fine pieces of furniture and selling them in Bree and Fornost. Ivorweth was a dressmaker who made fine and affordable gowns out of wool and had a little stand in the market place. Her daughters often helped, but they were busy trying to catch husbands, at least Ivornen was. Gilraen, who had no interest in marriage, was off training horses and practicing archery and wielding a sword so she could join her brother Ganland when he went orc hunting in the fall, but her father had already forbidden it:
“Orc hunting is fine for men, but not for a Ranger maiden! There are too many dangers out there! Lonely Robbers, wild things… I will not let you go with your brother.”
“But father, what if I dressed like a man?” Gilraen pleaded.
“NO! Dirhael thundered, “Your place is at home with your mother and sister, not out orc hunting. Now go get some mushrooms for supper. Another thing, you need to go out, mingle with the men. You’re not far from the marrying age.” He continued as he pressed three coins in her hand.
“Actually father, I’m six years away from it. I’m twenty & I don’t see why there’s sudden rush to get married. All I have to do is go to the market place and find a husband, there are plenty of single men there who patrol it everyday!”
“You have only six years to find a suitable man! Go out and find one, Gilraen, before your sister dose and makes a mockery out of you!” Dirhael replied as he shoved his daughter out the door and he closed it sharply in her face.
Gilraen sighed. “I should have just told him why I don’t go out much” she muttered to herself as she walked to the marketplace, a ten minute walk from her house; enough time to think. The reason she hated going to the market place was of the lonely, sixty-something men up there. They had returned from their orc hunting and were wanting to settle down. Most of them would hang out at the market place and watch the young women innocently shop and they would study them; their figure, their mannerisms, what they purchased… and when they found the one they liked; they would go to her and ask if they could court her. Many of the girls would accept the offer and not long after that get married, bowing to the pressure of increasing the people, and then live miserably. She had seen it in their worn faces and the herd of little ones around them. Gilraen didn’t want that, she wanted to be happily married like her parents…

“Good evening, Gilraen. May I help you?” The vegetable vendor asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Yes, give one pound of your finest mushrooms.” She blandly replied, eyeing the growing crowd of men gathering across from her. She had seen this before: go to the market and expect a crowd of gawking men. It was all because of her being a stupid beauty, a rare beauty. No one in the whole village had light brown hair or emerald green eyes like her. She reached into her pocket to throw something at them, her handkerchief.

She laughed loudly as they all dove for it, fighting for it as if it were a rare gold coin. She wondered which one would take it home and treasure it forever.
It ripped, so there was more then one victor who would take home!

“That will be four coins.” The vegetable vendor said as he handed the package of mushrooms to her.
“Four! But I have only three coins. Can you take three?” Gilraen asked. The men were know digging into their pockets for a coin. They were very desperate…
“No, Gilraen, Four coins or no mushrooms.”
She was about to despair when the chief’s son, Arathorn, came and laid a fourth coin by her three coins.
“I think this should help Dirhael’s Daughter.” He said as he passed by. Gilraen took the mushrooms and headed home as fast she could, before the men at the market decided to help her with any other unne

“Honestly, Gilraen, you looked like something foul was chasing you.” Ivornen said as she was cooking the mushrooms over an open fire, “it was very funny seeing you run down the street” she continued. Ivornen was two years younger then Gilraen and had favored her father’s side of the family: Black hair, grey eyes, and plump.
“Shut-up Ivor, you wouldn’t know a group of gawking men even if they suddenly appeared right now!” Gilrain muttered as she violently began to chop to the chicken.
“Well, I wouldn’t run away from a group of gawking men. I would have made it more interesting for them to watch me buy mushrooms. Besides, you make no sense. I do to know what to do if gawking men did appear.”

“TAKE THAT BACK!” Gilraen yelled as she tackled her sister, causing the pot of mushrooms to fly everywhere.
“Never!” Ivornen shouted.
“Girls!”
“Catfight!”
Ganland, Dirhael, and Ivorweth entered the kitchen at a run and found the place covered in mushrooms and Gilraen and Ivornen on the floor.
“Girls, Get up! You know better then to act like this…” Ivorweth irritably mumbled as she began to pick up the mushrooms, “Honestly, I thought they would stop irritating each other…”
“Well, Ivornen started it.” Gilraen haughtily said as she glared at her sister. She was covered in mushrooms.
“Well, you shouldn’t have been running down the street! Nothing was going to eat you!” Ivornen replied as she was brushing off mushrooms.
“Will stop it?! You’ve ruined my dinner and now you’ve ruined my evening & appetite with your constant bickering. I’m going to Samara’s house where there I will be treated like a king.” Ganland shouted and he stormed out of the Kitchen and through the parlor and slammed the wooden door so hard it fell off its hinges.
“I’ll fix it.” Dirhael grumpily volunteered and went out of the room.
“I’m going to bed.” Gilraen murmured.
“No supper dear?”
“Nah, I’m not that hungry” and she left the room.

Behind the kitchen, through a narrow hallway, and past two bedroom doors, Gilraen made her way to the room she shared with her sister. It was a small, divided, neat room which gave each sister her own space behind a removable wood wall; the divided rooms were as big as a small closet. Both rooms had a cot covered with green cotton sheets and a fluffy feather pillow. At the end of the cots there was a small trunk that held clothing and belongings and towards the head of it was a small night stand that was piled with books and a small lantern that held a single candle which gave off little light.

Gilraen cast off her dress and changed into a black nightdress, and spent two hours pouring over the books on her nightstand. Most of them were diaries, accounting the destruction of the city of Fornost when the Witch King of Angmar came from the upper north and destroyed the Northern Kingdom. The entry she was reading tonight was from one of the Queen’s Ladies-In-Waiting who was trying to persuade the Queen to flee into the hills for the Witch-King was coming to the city, but she refused for she wanted to find a ring her husband had given her before he left for war. It was silver and it had an amethyst heart and on either side of the heart was two diamonds and a silver line connected the diamonds:

The Witch-King is fast approaching and the people are fleeing into the hills…except the Queen. She refuses to go for she has lost her ring and she won’t leave until it is found. It was given to her by the King… a promise that he would return from war, but that was 3 years ago and he still hasn’t come back. Most of us have already given up on him, but not the Queen… OHHH! The Enemy is here, at the palace! I can hear him down the hall, killing, the groans of those being slayed are horrifying to hear. We are in the Queen’s room; she is still looking for that damn ring… Oh she has now found it and we can go out the window! It was on the bed…Now there is banging on the doors. One of the silly maids has opened it and… we are surrounded by orcs. They have begun their murders. The Queen has been stabbed and so has three others, including me ,the rest of the maids play dead ,thus fooling the orcs, but they kill the Queen and cut her off her finger, the one with the ring, to show the Witch King. Thankfully the ring has fallen off and one of the maids has hid it in the underground vault by her body. The orcs will never find it! We are leaving through the window, they will be back…

“So, that’s where it is, in a floor vault. But where was the Queen’s body and how do you open the door?” Gilrain pondered after she had read the entry. For two years, the Queen’s Ring had haunted her after her father had told her the story when they were out in the ruins of Fornost, digging through the rubble to find precious & rare treasures of the North-Kingdom. It was a favorite hobby they loved to do: go to the ruins of the two ancient cities of Fornost & Annuminas and find rare artifacts, and then they took them back to the village to be studied and then sold to the villagers. They did this to protect them from the Robber Lords who would steal them, and they would sell them down South and be paid in torrents of gold for their “trouble.”

“Gilraen, are you still obsessing about that stupid ring?” Ivornen asked, “I think you should give it up. Iluvater knows you’ll never find it.” She continued snobbishly, looking at her nails.
“Well, I hate to ruin your humble moment, but I have found it, according to this diary account, which says it is in the Queen’s room under the floor in a vault. I’m going to find it. Ivornen burst out laughing. “Mother and father will never let you go out and find that ring! There are too many dangers, there are robbers, orcs, and other evil things that would love to have you either for a snack or as a trophy to show their friends.” Gilrain simply stared at her and muttered something inaudibly. Ivornen had dissuaded her from going.

Chapter Two
The Queen’s Ring

Ivornen’s victory, sadly, was short-lived. The next morning at breakfast as the family was seated around the square, polished, wood table, Gilraen brought up the matter to her parents;
“Mother, Father, I would like leave to go to the ruins of Fornost for a week.”
Ivorweth looked at her daughter suspiciously over her coffee. “And what is the special purpose?”
“It’s about the fabled Queen’s Ring. Gil thinks it is at Fornost and she wants to go find it. She’s been reading about it for months.” Ivornen snootily jumped in, causing Gilraen to glare at her.
“I think it’s a perfect idea! Gilraen you have my permission to go and find the Queen’s Ring, but you must be back in a week.” Dirhael smiled as he jumped up from his chair and hugged his daughter. “I think this will be the greatest trinket we may have found. Do you know that the robber lords and the Southern Lords are also looking for it? That’s how precious that thing is to them.”
“But why is it so precious? It’s just a silly ring worn by the last Queen of the North!” Ganland said, rebuking his father.
“Anything lost is precious…and worth a lot of money, but I feel we deserve this ring because we are related to that royal line, though distantly. “Everyone knows we are descended from Valandil, Isildur’s son, though we are distantly related…Gilraen can go, but I foresee a dangerous & difficult journey.” Ivorweth replied sadly as she got up to clear the dishes.

“When can I leave?” Gilraen asked eagerly, ignoring her mother’s words.
“Right now!” Dirhael said, “Ivornen, help your sister pack.’

“I don’t see why you have to go. Your place should be here, helping with the chores…womanly matters.” Ivornen pouted as she threw a linen dress into Gilraen’s bag.
“Quit your pouting and tell me how I look.” Gilraen chided her as she emerged from behind the dressing stand.
“Ridiculous! Who wears leather?!” Ivornen replied with a disgusted look as Gilraen stepped from the screen. Gilraen wore a green dress with black piping and over it was a long, black, leather vest. Her hair was braided into many tiny intricate braids. “It’s not ridiculous; you just need to go out into the Wild more. Hand me my sword, my hunting knife, bow and that quiver of arrows. There are so many dangers out in the Wild you always have to be on your guard.” Gilraen said as she put her sword and hunting knife on her belt and the bow and quiver on her back along with her bag that held some books, including the diary of the lady-in-waiting, some dresses, a leather coat, a cloak, and the usual items you would take on a trip.

“Don’t get yourself killed or worse…” Ivornen said as she hugged her sister.
“I won’t get killed I’ll be careful. Take over my chores, take care of mother and father, and irritate the boys at the market in my stead. Farewell!” Gilraen said with a wave of her hand and she was gone, then she bid farewell to her family, promising to be back within a week. She went out to the small barn and saddled up Frea, the family’s 15 year-old, faithful black mare.


It took half a day’s ride to reach the ruins, but when Gilraen reached it, she found it breath-taking, like an old woman who still had some of her youthful looks. The tiny city had many of its original buildings standing, including the royal palace, the tallest building. Its ancient walls were cast down and there were some skeletal remains of soldiers and orcs scattered hither-thither. Gilraen dismounted and cautiously led her horse through the ruins; there were rumors that evil spirits dwelt here, lasting remnants of the invasion of Angmar, that were whispered to catch unwary travelers and… the rest of it couldn’t be remembered. A silly wives tale Gilraen whispered as she reached the palace steps; they were overgrown with evil looking weeds and falling apart.
“I won’t be long, stay.” She ordered Frea and she cautiously walked up the steps, through a torn steel door and into the great hall where in front of her stood a giant marble staircase and three corridors leading into darkness. Gilraen stood overwhelmed; where do I go?

She whipped out the journal and scanned the pages till she found directions to the room, closing it with a snap, she went up two flights of dusty stairs and she turned right down a creaky corridor full of rotting tapestries and she turned left and entered two double doors, both fallen off their hinges as if some mighty force blew them down: she was in the royal apartments, the ring had to be close by.

She strode through the dusty parlor, carefully navigating around broken pottery, figurines, and furniture. The next room was the Queen’s room and it was a heartbreaking sight to behold: several skeletons lay around the torn canopied bed, their rich clothing was reduced to soiled rags and they were hideously mutilated, these were the bodies of the Queen’s maidens and right by the bed, a skeletal hand was outstretched on the floor, guarding something. You couldn’t see much of her because she was covered in an orange robe. Gilraen cautiously moved towards the body, she was feeling uneasy, as if she were being watched or the body might spring up on her and… she didn’t want to think about it, The ring was within her grasp and that’s what all that mattered. She knelt down beside it and moved the hand: underneath it was the floor vault and it was opened. She lied down on the floor and began to reach in but she felt something cold and boney grab her wrist; it was the Queen’s hand: She was alive!

Gilraen screamed and fell backwards on the hard wood floor, stirring up centuries of dust. The Queen’s body raised its head: a human skull with bits of decomposing skin and a full head of black hair; its eye sockets had grey eyes, the color of storm clouds. It slowly rose and made its way towards Gilraen. On the Queen’s head was a spiky tiara, her garments were rotted and moth eaten, but they stank, like a dead person exhumed from the grave. Gilraen tried to get up & run, but she was frozen in fear as she watched the gruesome body rise.

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Faith isn't the ability to believe long and far into the misty future.
It's simply taking God at His Word and taking the next step Joni Erickson Tada