Hallatan & Arantar: The Domestic Dúnedain Project

So the rest of the summer was boring, hot and eerily similar to the first half. We're going to forget about that, and the rest of the Prince Edward Island trip, which consisted of me trying to keep bloody track of the boys.

Anyway, the Rangers have both been doing very well in school. By "well" I mean that they haven't burned down the school yet.
Hallatan is doing amazingly well in Ancient History with the highest average in his class. It's phenomenal considering that just 6 months ago he could barely speak a word of English. I can't keep him out of the cafeteria on his free, and the lunch ladies are doing their heads in with his "what is this?" "how you make this?" "This not looking like the chicken". He helps them out though, and I know they're glad for the extra hands. Thank goodness he doesn't feel he has to keep dropping things out of the third-storey windows to make sure they fall at the same speed anymore. He did that from about September to the middle of November, until the Physics teacher assured him that yes, the overhead projector and the jar of frogs will in fact hit the ground at the same time. Silly Hallatan is excited beyond all belief for Band class, as I've scrounged up a second-hand trumpet for him, and the local music gurus have taken him under their wing to teach him. He loves it. He told me proudly that he can play a whole C scale, and that the boys want to teach him guitar as well, as he seems to have a knack for melodies and learns quickly. I just hope they don't invite him to any parties, as that group is notorious for their slightly substance-induced fun. *cough*

Arantar is a different story altogether. We've discovered that academics aren't really his strength, though he's picking up French a lot faster than English. There are more rules to it and more logic in the linguistics, so I suppose it would be easier. But the grade 12 English teacher whom we shall call Mr. X -- and who doesn't like exchange students -- has picked up on his inability to speak decent English, and, when I went to remind him that he doesn't speak English very well and to please not humiliate him in front of the class, he went off on a tangent about how Arantar can't properly incorporate quotations into formal essays. By some weird chance, Arantar has ended up in the same Art class as me, and my teacher is yet again fascinated by his artistic abilities, although Post-Modernism was a bit of a stretch for him. I don't think he quite grasped the concept of Andy Warhol and why on Earth 100 stacked soup cans was supposed to be considered art. I spent the better part of three days trying to explain the concepts behind most Post-Modern art. Photography seemed to be the thing that he was most fascinated with, and so he spent most of his time in the dark room with the chemicals "that make 'ACHOO' nose and pretty painting" while he could. He loved that he got to make his own little camera, it helped him to understand the technology better. Neither of them has really gotten the hang of computers yet, though they are starting to type small things out with some help.

Poor Hallatan got onto the bus a few weeks ago nearly in tears. He said he couldn't understand the words in this book, but was babbling and incoherent until Arantar managed to get him to get the book out of his bag. An illustrated and annotated copy of Hamlet. Arantar and I both laughed, since he's been doing a lot of studying for Shakespeare while Hallatan worked on ancient Mesopotamia and velocity. Hallatan's brother is now tutoring him in Elizabethan English and theatre. Something weird about that. Anyway, the boys both have exams starting tomorrow, and Arantar still needs to drill his brother on the mechanics of the Shakespearean play while Hallatan tries to teach Arantar about the themes of regicide and deliberate deception.

-Ke.

And I've managed to get the Rangers enrolled in high school with me for my final year. This should be interesting. I've got both signed up for classes, though they each have a rather distinctive schedule. I'm going to try and pass them off on the assumption that they're exchange students. Rather adult-looking ones. Their schedules for this year go as follows:

HALLATAN
English (still rusty)
Geography
Phys. Ed.
Physics
Study Period
EXT (the equivalent of Tech. Ed. or Shop class)
Music
Ancient History

ARANTAR
English (at least they have one period together)
Study Period
French
Art (since he loved sculpting so much the last time)
Biology
Phys. Ed.
Drama
Geography

I've decided to teach them maths at home, since they have no concept of calculators and the like. Arantar's definitely turning out to be the more arts minded one, and is taking a gutsy leap by asking for a French class. His pronounciation is close to perfect from what I've taught him. He just needs a better grasp on the language. Hallatan is still fascinated by how things work, so I figured more sciences would be better. Still, he's told me he wants "to get some musics on horn", which I'm only guessing can mean he wants to learn to play a horn. I hope.

The summer with these two has been a strange one. I couldn't take them to work with me most days, so I've had to leave them to their own devices. I came home late one day a couple of weeks ago to find that they had converted our shed in the backyard into a sort of lodge. If you've ever seen those old pioneer movies with the trappers' cabins in them, it's almost the same thing. They had built, on the sly, a few marvelously carved chairs, turned the work bench into a table... it was a completely different shed! Watch out Martha Stewart, the Dúnedain decorate! I had to dissuade them from putting in a fire pit, though. It's not easy explaining to Men of the North how easily plastic melts.

My family took a surprise vacation to Prince Edward Island last week, and you wouldn't believe their excitement over getting to go. While most of the family dozed on the way there, they sat in the back and stared out the windows the whole time. I had forgotten that this was their first real trip, and did my best to explain places to them. They were a little freaked out going over the Confederation Bridge, and kept asking me all these questions on how the bridge managed to stay up over such a long distance, and I had to sketch it out in my notebook, explaining supports and weight distribution, knowing full well that they only ever got half of what I was saying. I told them to think about it like they were building a tower: you have to have supports in all the right places or it will collapse, etc. They seemed to understand a little better by then.

They couldn't get over how red the Island was, and instead of trying to pronounce Prince Edward Island, they just called it Red Island, continuously pronouncing the 's' in 'Island'. They still don't fully grasp silent letters. The place we were staying at had canoes that you could use on the bay behind our cabin, and of course that was the first thing they did: take the canoes out and steered expertly through the clam traps, as if it was an obstacle course.

My sister told them bit by bit the basic story of Anne of Green Gables, which had them fascinated for awhile, until they realised it was the same idea over and over again. So instead she told them about Emily of New Moon, and this one held their attention for a little longer. They're still a little amazed over how important women are today, work-wise. Can't really blame them: after six thousand years, the role of a woman has come a long way.

-Ké.

I mean, it's perfectly logical, right? They've been here a good three months, and are really starting to get the hang of English (and a bit of French, actually, hacing been to school with me a lot these past weeks) and writing. So I've prepared for them a bit of am exam, a skills test, if you will. I'll post the results after my own exams, since they're coming up.

The weather has gotten considerably warmer, and because of that, Hallatan and Arantar have taken to spending much of their time outside. They've disovered a gravel driveway down the road, and are now building their own mini-Minas Tirith in the backyard out of the rocks they nicked from there. It's quite amazing actually, and they've pointed out all the different stables, houses of various important people, the houses of healing and so forth. They're getting really good at this, and I'm thinking I'll have to take them to the Tolkien exhibition in Boston if I can get them passports.

It's rather unnerving when you know your Rangers are scheming behind your back. I heard them last night mumbling rapidly (no doubt so I couldn't understand them) about the sam pethuin (or 'word box', which is what they call the computer since MSN is always on), the backyard and I think the other word I caught was either 'sogo' or 'Frodo', though I'm betting on the first because the second makes no sense. So either they're trying to get Frodo into my backyard by way of MSN, or they want to throw a party and spread the word on the internet. Rangers.

Relatives from England are here at the moment, and they were a little confused when I said they were from over the ocean. Hallatan explained to me that he seemed to think that we were the ones over the ocean. Was forced to
a) Break out the World Atlas and explain our current geography, that there are many oceans and seas, and the world doesn't look like it did six thousand years ago
b) Attempt to answer questions to the effect of (roughly translated), "If this is the West, then where is Valinor?", "Yes, we know it's not here now, but wasn't it at one point?" and "Don't these people know anything about their history?" I don't think I was supposed to answer the last one, but I reminded Arantar (who made the last remark) that the past inhabitants of this continent weren't too big on keeping written records as far back as six thousand years. Rangers now sulky, and most likely preparing a crash course for me on the complete history of Valinor. Fun fun.

-Ké.

With stories to share, as usual. I have spent the last week getting lost in the Nova Scotian wilderness (a.k.a. the center of the province) with Hallatan and Arantar, just wandering around, hearing stories in both broken English and eloquent Sindarin (which I only partially understood due to stupid Sindarin mutations). Most were the tired old lays; you know, Beren and Lúthien, Túrin Turambar, etc. But then (once the rain started coming down, and the fire was eventually moved beneath a rather makeshift tent, as we weren't expecting rain) came the amusing stories.
These were stories picked up from when the boys were in Imladris a few years ago, and needed adequate ammo for future blackmail. Such stories included the drunken escapades of Erestor (and the Dorwinion Barrel Escapade) and Lindir (being found in his skinnies by Arwen's L.I.W. on the riverbank).

[NOTE: These stories are copyrighted to boz4PM of FF.net and her stories 'Don't Panic!' and 'Okay, Now Panic!'.]

Needless to say, I shared these all 'round. And there was much rejoicing.

The Rangers still haven't found the courage to go back to school, though their studies are improving with much success. Hallatan has taken a liking to old Western movies, and that's how he's learning most of his English. Arantar, however, has discovered the play 'Hamlet', and spends all his time looking up words like 'doth' or 'thou', or the 16th century use of the word 'thing' (which, I have told him, is none of his business). They're developping quite different personalities, and I'll be updating their profiles soon.
Their spelling is coming along quite well, although trying to explain why 'knife' has a 'k' in front of it is like trying to explain table manners to a hyena. There simply aren't silent letters in Sindarin or Westron. They're getting the hang of it, though. They're using the same books that I was as a child: The Ladybird Books. I had to dig them out of the boxes of old stuff we have lying around.

-Ké.

PS: Perhaps next time they'll be able to recognize enough letters to type a message. They're very quick learners.

Would anyone have any ideas on how to do this? My Elvish is very limited, my Adûnaic is non-existent, forget about Westron as well... And their English is nothing to be proud of. So how does one go about teaching Rangers with such a language barrier as this? And if anyone mentions flash cards, I might have to make them wear the stupid helmet. I've tried it. They still don't get the concept of "Doggie goes 'woof!'. Duck goes 'quack, quack!'." Honestly.

On a much related note, was forced to take Hallatan and Arantar to school with me yesterday, as I couldn't find a babysitter physically fit enough to follow them around all day for what they told me in English was a "fish walk". Got the basic point, but I didn't want to see twenty dead eels in my freezer like the last time they went on one of these walks. Unfortunately, my high school (unlike many others) doesn't have a daycare program, so I had to bring them to my classes with me. The results were rather interesting actually. Excerpts from my notebook yesterday...

"History class: French history teacher not amused with the arrival of two unwashed men. Washed, fine. But he's French and doesn't like smelly things. We're spending all class watching a movie on the people's history of Canada, and I think he's rather irritated when Hallatan and Arantar continuously jump up and down shouting cheers and (what I can only assume were) insults at the war of 1812 onscreen. Eventually French teacher will throw a French fit, and we all know how scary that is. Good thing there are newspapers in the room."

"English class: At first Ms. Smith wasn't too impressed that two more people were already joining what was undoubtedly turning out to be English Illiteracy Class, but was astonished when I told them where they were from. She's now making them sit with the foreign exchange students from Germany and Korea: Martin and Jae-Ho. Maybe they'll learn something from Martin, he's smart and likes to tell people off. The teacher is just kind of sitting at her desk, staring at them, chewing her nails off. I wonder if that's because they are from one of the two most gorgeous peoples the world has ever known (it's even visible underneath the dirt and grease bilayer), or if it's because they're real. Silly woman."

"Biology class: Much embarassing. It's biology class, human biology is part of the curriculum, they're foreign and don't know what's going on, she has a chart... I'm not going any further into it. I'm betting on them hiding in the closet when we get home."

"Art class: Somehow Hallatan managed to get into the acrylic paints, and has now created a new mural for our high school in less than an hour. Unfortunately, it's directly on the wall, but the teacher doesn't seem to mind. She is absolutely enthralled and trying out every language she knows to get him to tell her where he learned to paint like that. Arantar is a little less than happy that his surrogate brother is getting all the attention, and so I procured a bit of clay from the supply room. Still a little more than ticked, he's shaping a lovely portrait of his brother as an exremely disgruntled orc, from what I can understand. Again, art teacher enthralled. Mind you, she'd like Smarties arranged in a semi-circle..."

Another bit of news! Have gotten Rangers to take baths! ^_^ Unfortunately, not together, but you can only hope for so much. Told them in the Elvish equivalent that, "Morgoth likes to bust the petty arses of grungy Númenorians", and that if they wanted to get my Bio teacher to stop carbon-testing the dirt off their persons, they had better shine like my aunt's false teeth. Then had to explain about aunt, and aunt's false teeth.

-Ké.

Hallatan and Arantar are making extremely good process! I'm so proud of them! *sigh!*

I've been drilling them (when they've actually been home) on English words and comprehension, and so far they can understand "food", "walk", "sit", and "you mangy flea-bitten Men of the North! Get back here before I use the good soap on you."

They spend a lot of time out of the house, and I've learned to let them out at night before bed, and let them in again in time for dinner the next day. I haven't had to go grocery shopping since they got here. I might have to, since we have no fruit and I have no intention of anyone in this house getting scurvy just because squirrel and raccoon don't have enough Vitamin C. Sometimes they're out for days, which I suppose is good for them, given they haven't had a lot of time to adjust.

No baths yet. They've become petrified of any water that isn't in a mug (have had to buy pewter mugs, dishes and cutlery just to get them to eat), but I'll have to get them into the tub sometime...

-Ké.

Ké yawned as she awoke. Today was the day!! She stretched to extend the happy sense of delirium she felt, wanting to make the feeling last as long as she possibly could. Finally she was getting her very own Rangers. Leaping from the bed at last, she pulled on her Ranger-iest clothes, mussed up her hair into Ranger fashion and resisted the urge to brush her teeth so her breath smelled as much like a Ranger as possible.

Tripping down the stairs in a giddy mood, she plunked into a chair at the table and reached for the cereal and then the milk. She munched away on her oatie oh’s and slurped the milk from the spoon, wiping the dribbles that leaked from her huge grin and trickled milk down her chin. Yep, she was eating like a Ranger too. Of course semi-cooked meat was out of the question, but sloppy was a good start. It took a few practice runs, but at last she managed a huge, hearty Ranger-type belch. Satisfied that she was ready, Ké set off to pick up her new pet Rangers.

She pranced down the street oblivious to the stares she was attracting, skipping to the Rent-a-Horse stable a couple of blocks away. She certainly couldn’t arrive to pick up Rangers without have at least one horse in tow! As luck would have it she’d been allotted a great big Clydesdale, even though his mane was more along the lines of Elvish silky smoothness than Ranger mop. With the aid of a ladder Ké hauled herself up onto the horse – most appropriately named Goliath – and clomped out of the stable and off to the Ranger Rescue Society building to pick up her new pet Rangers.

Thankfully the trip was short, as the trotting was leaving Ké very stiff and sore already, and she hobbled the horse outside of the building before hobbling awkwardly into the building herself. She half-waddled up to the desk and presented her special “Adopt One Get A Second Ranger!” card to the receptionist. The receptionist took the card, did some quick fancy typing on her keyboard, and smiled up at Ké.

“Please go right through those double doors *she pointed to Ké’s right* and tell the gentleman you’re here for Spot and Ruff.”
“Spot and Ruff?” Ké repeated uncertainly. The receptionist giggled and nodded. Shaking her head, Ké moved nervously through the double doors. The “gentleman” standing inside the door didn’t hear her through the headphones hidden by the long greasy hair hanging down everywhere, and eventually she had to jab him in the arm to get his attention. She repeated the names she’d been given, he nodded wordlessly, and still bobbing his head to the music she could hear pounding even from the five feet between them. He shuffled up to a big door behind which Ké could hear strange thumping and scratching noises. He slid a window open in the door and motioned for Ké to look. She peered in to see two Rangers, or what she presumed were Rangers, wrestling about. One had his teeth sunk into the other’s arm, which was wrapped around his head in a lock, and the other whose arm was being bitten was howling and thumping the other Ranger’s head with his fist. The guy with Ké pounded on the door and the two jumped up startled. They both rushed to the window to see what was going on, each fighting to keep the other back and get to the door first. Ké wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. The guy opened up the door and the two Rangers came forward suspiciously. Ké frowned at the leather collar each Ranger wore and stifled a laugh as the guy clipped a rope to each one. He turned to her and spoke for the first time.
“They get lost easy in the city so be careful. Don’t let’em wander too much, and if you must let’em wander take’em out to the countryside ‘cuz there they don’t get lost.” She nodded and took the ropes he held out to her. She led the Rangers outside to the waiting horse.

Both knew just what to do but nothing is simple with two Rangers and they fought each other to be the first up onto the horse. Ké rolled her eyes and reached out to smack both of them on the back of the head. With their cooperation she managed to get up onto the huge horse, and then gave them orders as to who should get up next. At last all three were seated comfortably on Goliath’s broad back, and heading off toward home.

When she got them home, she set out some cold meat and bread and leapt out of the way as the Rangers hungrily attacked the food. While they stuffed their faces Ké went to her computer and hopped on-line to tell all of her friends the good news. Sadly, the only friend on at the time was Aiwë, an Elf of Mirkwood; none of Ké’s Numenorean friends were on just now. Oh well. Aiwë was nice enough. She began typing to the Elf.

Ké: Hey Aiwë!
Aiwë: Hi Ké!! How are you today? What’s new?
Ké: Well, I finally got my Rangers!!! Two of them – they’re, well, devouring everything in sight as we speak…
Aiwë: HAHAHAHA – two of them, eh? You gonna take a second job to feed them?
Ké: O.o – forgot about that part! I’m in trouble!!
Aiwë: *chuckles* You’ll be fine – no worries. They’re good hunters, remember? Just make sure to take them out in the woods at least once a week to stock up on meat!! *wink* No problem!!
Ké: True – I had forgotten about that!! Thanks for the reminder, Aiwë!
Aiwë: My pleasure! So tell me about them – what are their names? What are they like?
Ké: Um…I kinda forget! *thinks*
Aiwë: How about Spot? HAHAHA!
Ké: That’s one of them, actually!! But I don’t like that name – I’m going to change it to Horace. And the other one – I think his name is Ruff or something? – I don’t know what to call him.
Aiwë: Hm…Horace is a good name – lots of fun! Suits a Ranger…what about the other one?
Ké: I dunno…

Ké’s typing was interrupted by a crash from the kitchen. She rolled her eyes, not sure she wanted to know what trouble they were causing. She told Aiwë farewell and turned off the computer. Gritting her teeth she headed to the kitchen to see what was going on.

Spot stood in the centre of the kitchen floor, covered in and dripping with raw eggs. Ruff lay on the floor a few feet away, the heavy wooden fruit bowl on the floor nearby and several pieces of fruit mashed on the Ranger’s face. He groaned and twitched, and Ké burst out laughing. She picked up the heavy bowl and the few pieces of unmashed fruit, and returned it to the top of the refrigerator. Ruff tried to sit up and Ké gave him a hand and then handed him a wet cloth to wipe his face with. Instead, he wrung the water from the cloth into his mouth to drink it. Spot lunged at Ruff and grabbed for the cloth, trying to drink from it himself.
“Oh stop it, you two!” Ké cried out. She retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one each to the Rangers. They stared blankly at them. With a sigh, Ké reached down and took Spot’s bottle, removed the lid and handed it back to him. Still he stared blankly. At last, Ké took another bottle from the fridge, opened it, and took a drink. The Rangers finally got it, and within seconds Spot had drained his bottle while Ruff poured the water into the cloth and drank from the cloth again. This time Ké could not restrain the laughter, much to the chagrin of the two Rangers who did not enjoy being the subjects of her outburst. The expressions on their faces made her laugh that much harder, as each protruded his lower lip in a pout as yet unmatched by the poutiest two-year-old. Ké sat down at the table still chuckling, and munched on one of the few un-mushed apples remaining from the bowl of fruit. Having pet Rangers was going to be a riot….

Having penned the two Rangers out in the backyard to work off their energy, Ké hauled out the owner’s manual. It was only ten pages, not that large either, so she zipped through it quite quickly. She made highlights on how to bathe Rangers, for they are notoriously averse to bathing, and how to ensure Rangers received proper exercise to maintain both their mental sharpness *Ké chuckled at that prospect* and their physical fitness. Various hunting, hiding-and-seeking and capture-the-flag type games were suggested, and Ké doubled over with laughter as she tried to imagine Spot and Ruff engaging in such activities. The last page of the manual was the most intriguing page, and Ké read it over a few times, particularly one paragraph.

Rangers are highly intelligent, although not necessarily intellectual or diplomatic, and they can be taught almost anything with proper time and instruction. Never, ever attempt to quench their natural skills and abilities, as there is no more certain way to kill the spirit in a Ranger. At least once a year take them camping for at least two weeks in a remote area at least a hundred miles away from any nearby civilization. Intentionally lose yourself and all of your supplies, and watch how the Rangers not only find and rescue you, but keep you fed, cared for and comparatively comfortable with nothing more than their very own blades and their wits about them.

Ké could not help but feel a thrill of excitement course through her at the prospect. Sure, she was a sword-maiden of Numenor with excellent skills in battle and survival, but the legendary Rangers…well, they were legendary! Watching that in action, learning from them, adding those skills to her own – what Numenorean wouldn’t want that? It was the Rangers, after all, who kept the bloodlines of Numenor from vanishing altogether, wasn’t it? And King Elessar – he’d been a Ranger, and wasn’t that part of the bloodline that made him king? Sadly, so much civilization had done nothing for the wanderlust of the Rangers, their need to protect good by fighting evil, and their love of ranging about in the wilds as they lived off the land. She’d seen a couple who tried to turn their Ranger into a farmer, what with the living off the land idea, but a Ranger lives off of the wild natural land; he is not a gardener, not even a shepherd, really, but a free Man, unhappy toiling in such confining hobbles.

No, Ké resolved, she would do right by these Rangers from the North. Sad that so much of the North had become overpopulated after the decline of Sauron’s evil empire – how ironic, that the very Rangers who had helped free the North from evil now had no North to range about in as everywhere had become settled and populated and altogether too civilized for the happiness of a Ranger. Speaking of doing right by them, she checked her watch and wondered if it were time for them to come in. One of the first ten things to settling her Rangers was to give them a flea bath, nothing she relished, and she wondered how she could make an enjoyable game of it to lessen the suffering. A plan began to formulate in her mind…


So yes. That is how this started. This is an experiment to document the progress of my two little (well, full-grown actually) Dúnedain, Rangers, Númenorian descendants, Hallatan and Arantar. Yes, I have managed to actually bathe them, though they were quite scared of the taps at first...

Check out the 'Info' page for personality traits, hobbies, etc.

-Ké.