Beregond son of Baranor

What would your life be, if it were a movie? Comedy, horror, drama Sci-Fi? And who would play you?

I apologize for the delay in answering your question. I did not recognize the word "movie", and had to do some research. Interesting notion. It's like a play captured in a bottle. All you need to do is uncap it and it will tell the tale over and over again.

I suppose my life story would belong in the action/adventure genre, considering all my adventures in Gondor during the war of the ring. A part of me wishes the answer could have been a romance movie, or comedy. My life has had it's share of both, but I know I'll always be remembered for what happened in Minas Tirith, and in battle against the forces of Sauron.

As for my choice of actors to portray me, again, I spent much time and effort learning about the various actors who make these movies. I think my choice would be Richard Dean Anderson. He already portrays a soldier, and he does seem to have a knack for getting himself out of tight situations. This talent would come in handy during encounters with hill trolls, believe me. Even Tolkien himself couldn't seem to come up with a solution to that encounter. There's a rather large gap in my life between Pippin and I facing that troll, and my trial back in Minas Tirith. Perhaps one of your fine screenwriters might be inclined to add this missing sequence back into my movie, should it ever be made.

Beregond: Captain of the White Company, the Guard of Faramir Prince of Ithilien.
Fandom: The Lord Of The Rings
Word Count: 243

How do you handle confrontations?

You would ask a soldier this? I would wait for the command, draw my sword, and plunge ahead into the battle. Never ask a simple soldier a complicated question!

Well, that’s one answer. But I am not always a soldier though. I am also a father, and while Bergil is a son to make any man proud, he’s also got a stubborn streak that I swear he must have gotten from his mother’s side. I recall the day he filled his pockets with winter apples. I caught him stuffing the last apple down his tunic, and asked him if he planned to eat all of those for his supper. He knew the rules – do not take more than you can eat, leave enough for the next hungry ranger. He looked me dead in the eye, and said "yes", the defiance quite unmistakable in his features.

We all go through those phases of growing up when we feel we must push the boundaries. It helps us know where they are, and what we are capable of. Bergil was pushing, and I think we both knew it.

I smiled, and filled my own plate with my supper. "Wonderful! It’s good to be able to share supper with my son for a change, my shift does not start for another hour." Bergil knew full well what this would mean. He sat down, resigned to his fate, fully prepared to eat fifteen apples just to show the old man he’d taken a proper supper.

By the time he got to biting into the fourth apple, he was not a happy boy. I polished off the last of my stew, and rose to get a slice of pie. "Would you like some apple pie for your dessert, once you’ve finished your dinner, Bergil?" He nearly started to cry, so sick of apples, and put off by what until today was his favorite dessert. "Or perhaps you would find more pleasure in an apology and the placing of eight apples back in the barrel?"

My fatherhood techniques worked that day. But I know a day will come when simple tricks are not enough, and I can only hope I have raised him well, and that the confrontations that will no doubt arise between my adult son and myself will be able to be resolved through thoughtful conversation and reasoning. And afterwards, we can have apple pie.

Beregond: Captain of the White Company, the Guard of Faramir Prince of Ithilien.
Fandom: The Lord Of The Rings
Word Count: 400

It had been a long day for Beregond and Russell. A leisurely breakfast followed by an afternoon in the sun at the river's edge had tired them both out. Somewhere towards evening, Beregond pulled Russell by the hand back to his apartment in the realm of the Muses. He still wished to take Russell home to visit Minas Tirith and Ithilien, but right now, he just wanted the closest bed, and Russell in it.

He nudged Russell towards the bed, then fell across it himself, exhaling long and low. "Mmmm. Grass is nice to snooze in, but sometimes a good bed is just what's needed. Are you tired? Need to sleep a bit?"

Hearing, Sight, Taste, Touch, and Smell. The five senses. Which would be the worst one for you to lose, and why?

If I were to be struck deaf to the sounds of battle, the cries of soldiers falling around me, this is something I could adjust to, perhaps more easily than I care to admit. I have also smelled enough blood to last me to the end of my days. The taste of dirt and ash on the wind, even my own blood in my mouth on some occasions, and the eating of stale bread and rancid meat at the end of a long campaign, no I would gladly give up these as well. And finally, the desperate pressing of my hand to a soldier’s chest seeking a heartbeat but finding only a cold stillness. A soldier must endure all these, yet they are certainly not experiences to savor.

But if I were to lose the ability to help prevent these horrors in the first place? Ah, there is the crux of the issue. To spot the enemy, to know which way to turn and fight effectively, to move as one with the rest of my company as we battle together, one sense becomes vital. Without my eyes I can do nothing to prevent the assault on all the other senses.

Beregond: Captain of the White Company, the Guard of Faramir Prince of Ithilien.
Fandom: The Lord Of The Rings
Word Count: Double-drabble - 200

Well, fine. Don't be fun, Russell.

I'm off to find someone who IS. Craving some fun, and I really hate to be bored.

Beregond wanders back to town, not knowing what he wants, but he'll know it when he finds it.


OOC: Beregond and mun are flying out of town tomorrow for 4 days, so just assume he's having his way with whatever and whoever he finds for diversion until I get back. We should be back online Wednesday morning.

What do you want on your tombstone, and why?

Well, then, shall we draw our chairs closer to the fire, all the better to ward off the chill that finds the nape of the neck when death is the topic at hand? But, this is not my first ale of the evening, and I am not a young man any longer. I do believe that I am well beyond the raising of goosebumps at the thought of my own passing.

Some might find this a morbid question, but I see it in another light. I would like to think that my final resting place would be one of choice by my own kin, marked with a stone if they wished. So many of my fellow soldiers have been lost to the field of battle, in lands so dismal and hostile that a proper burial was impossibility. I have seen warriors fall under the enemy, even as we hastened a retreat. The families of those soldiers whose bodies were never recovered are deprived of having a quiet place to kneel and think upon the one they have lost.

Of course, I would hope that the span of years marked on my stone will show a great distance of time between the year of my birth and the year of my death!

Beyond this fond wish for a long and healthy life - the exact words of my epitaph do not matter much to me, as I will not be around to read them. I would hope for words that might bring peace to my son Bergil's heart, though. Something to make my boy proud enough of his father to one day bring his own wife and children by for a visit, perhaps to spend an afternoon near by, telling them the stories of my life.

Now that I think more upon this, I feel I am the man I am due in large part to those I keep company with. Perhaps, if I am lucky, my tombstone will read:

Son of Baranor
Husband of Berenith
Father of Bergil
Soldier of Gondor
Captain to Prince Faramir of Ithilien
Friend of Many

Beregond: Captain of the White Company, the Guard of Faramir Prince of Ithilien.
Fandom: The Lord Of The Rings
Word Count: 350

Beregond leaves Russell, with a promise to return soon, in one form or another and let him know how his talk with Smith turns out.

He arrives at Smith's workplace, wearing suit pants, no dark glasses, and a tye dyed shirt.

Smith! Are you here?

After leaving Russell in the park, Beregond returned to his workspace and began working on a formula that would equate to approximating the effect ingesting cannabis sativa has on humans.

He accessed Beregond’s memories of the two times he had shared the smoke of this plant with Russell. He would catalog the reactions, then write a program capable of emulating each reaction.

Quickly, Beregond also accessed public medical information on cannabis sativa, loads parameters of effects into new applet titled "Smoke and Mirrors"

He then set about customizing the program to provide an effect Russell would feel approximates the effect of the smoke on his friend Beregond 1.0.

Pupil dilation: An easy effect to mimic, since the eyes are mere contrivances in the first place. Done.

Temporary spatial disintegration of the ability to carry out tasks which require multiple operations in the accomplishment of a goal: Disconcerting. But it can be accomplished, with a buffered deadman’s switch added in case of an infinite loop occurring on any given task.

Trailing Phenomenon: Alter vision to irregular frame-by-frame mode rather than smooth movement of perception.

Anxiety/Paranoia: Beregond 1.0 did not experience this. It could be that the presence of Russell provided a safety feature of sorts. Beregond does not program this effect into his psuedo-cannabis.

Hallucinations: Set perception standards to layer special effects over vision input. Can adapt Photoshop to provide this effect – why reinvent the wheel?

Munchies: Not Applicable. Russell should understand.

Pleased with his work, Beregond takes a break and studies cryogenics for a few nanoseconds. He’s all ready for his appointment with Russell later today.

Beregond went directly to [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]'s apartment and rapped sharply on the door. There was no answer.

He reviewed all options regarding other locations Russell might have gone to, and decided that the park with a 32% probablity factor, or the diner at 58% were the two most likely possibilites.

Within seconds he was standing in front of the diner, taking the time to adjust his sunglasses before striding in to search for the man.

[Continued from Beregond's visit to the Oracle]

So, then. The Oracle says that [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] may have answers for me. I don't understand, but an excuse to see Russell again is not a terrible thing.

I have asked about, and it seems he stays here now. *raps on the door*