The Beginnings of Change

Aragost, known more commonly as Wolf when not amongst his fellow Dunedain, sat in the boughs of the trees above the small camp he was currently guarding. His bow and a quiver of arrows laid along one branch, carefully balanced and within easy reach so that if any threat came within eyesight, he could have an arrow between its eyes before it got within rock throwing range. Right now he was not doing his job of keeping watch effectively, for his focus was almost entirely taken up by the book that sat in his lap. The thin silver chain that had bound it was wrapped around the palm of his left hand which he was using to hold the book, while his right held a sharpened stake of charcoal that he had just used to write into the pages that he was now the owner of this tome.

And he could feel the effects of it. He could feel the change that had overtaken the world at his writing, the shiver through reality, that ran through the leaves of the trees like a fell wind. Looking down into the camp didn't reveal sign that anyone else had noticed the change, but that did not mean they had not, for all there were Dunedain, save for two, and so more aware of what occurred around them than most lesser men. His eyes however sought out the two who were not descendants of Numenor, for instead they were Elven, and if none else noticed a thing, they certainly would, for Elves lived long lives and knew more of the World than most Men would ever learn before the Gift of **** took them beyond.

Elrohir and Elladan were twin Elves, and sons of the Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and for almost 500 years they had regularly rode from the Last Homely House to aid the Rangers of the North in their constant vigil against the incursions of Orc, Warg and Troll. With centuries of experience behind them, the twins were skilled with bow and blade, and could track a raiding party for many leagues, or even tell on the wind of their coming long before any human sense could detect a thing. This large group of almost two dozen rangers had only gathered for their coming, as they had brought news of a party of orcs almost three hundred strong who had emerged from somewhere within the Misty Mountains and descended down into Hollin bypassing the lands Rivendell stewarded to the South, and made their way into Eriador, and what was once Cardolan.

Halbarad, one of the most well respected Rangers, had called for a gathering of Rangers from the surrounding areas, to band together with the Elven Twins, and hunt down and exterminate this rabble before they could reach further west and threaten the lands of the common men who dwelt there. While much of the land was still hugely depopulated, there were still the occasional village in Minhiriath that would be threatened by such a party, and if not stopped they could even progress as far as Bree before facing any real resistance. They had to be dealt with.

Aragost had come to this grouping as one of the most junior members. His father had passed only a few weeks before, and his mother had long been away now, leaving him on his own and the one solely in charge of keeping the Book safe until at last the Heir of Isildur took the throne and it was to be returned to them. And he had already failed in his duty. And in close proximity to Elves. His breath was trapped in his throat as his eyes remained fixed on the entrance to the tent that Halbarad, Elrohir and Elladan were all within. At any moment the twins could come bursting out to search for him and the book.

But when they did come out, there was none of the urgency that he had expected. They brushed aside the flaps on the tent that provided privacy, and strode out into the middle of the clearing. From here there faces were not quite visible, but their did not appear to be any sort of concern to their stances, no sense of urgency or even slight discomfort. There were two Elves standing maybe 15 metres away from where he had just rewritten a segment of reality, and they had not felt a thing. They were even descendants of the Lady Galadriel, meaning they had blood descent from Noldorin Royalty. And they noticed nothing.

Indeed, as he watched they bid farewell to Halbarad for a moment and moved off in the direction of the small lake they had used as the landmark to which all the rangers had been called. It had no proper name that could be remembered, though in the time of the Kings it surely would have been recorded somewhere by the Royal Guild of Surveyors. Now they knew it as the lake to the southwest of Weathertop.

And all at once many thoughts crossed Aragost's mind. And he quickly tied the silver chain back around the book, sealing its covers shut for the moment and hanging it from his waist, while he picked up his bow and quiver. Slinking through the trees, he moved as if on patrol, changing the position of his guard so that he might be on the other side of the camp, and overlooking the lake.

It was as he suspected. The twins were stripping themselves of their armour and weapons, and laying them on the lake shore while they moved into the water's to bathe and cleanse themselves. Two naked Elven forms swiftly submerged into the water, hiding much of the details from his vision, but just seeing them in the lake had him already formulating an idea.

The book was reopened and in his hand in an instant, his tiny charcoal pen scratching his newest rule into its pages in an instant. Old Rule: Anyone who enters the waters of the lake southwest of Weathertop becomes a beautiful maiden.

He looked up, and they had changed. It was as quick as that. One moment he was looking upon two Elven males, and the next they were two beautiful maidens. For Elves, the great musculature of humans was not common, and so even their males were often svelte and lithe and wore their hair in long and flowing locks like waterfalls, and so far too often their menfolk could well be mistaken for females from a distance, and so in general appearance not too much was changed by the transformation, and yet what had was all the more noticeable for it.

Each twin now sprouted a pair of stunning breasts, each a handful and a half in size, that they made no attempts to hide as they used the waters of the lake to clean themselves. Indeed they ran their hands all over their dripping forms almost as if they knew they were being observed and so intended to put on a lurid and enticing display, which certainly could not be. Their rears could just be made out as they moved through the water and washed themselves, revealing peach halves that could sit a hard stone chair with no discomfort, for they were plush enough to have no need of additional cushioning. And these new feminine features actually revealed differences between the two twins that had not been there before. Prior, if one had approached them from behind one could never tell one from his other, for each was identical save for in facial features. Now the slightest of change could be found with the nipples that adorned their bouncing bosoms. For the one Sister's teats were a cherry red that stood out well and signalled the chill of the water against the paleness of her skin, while the other's were a brighter pink, almost the shade of a maiden's blush. It was a tiny detail and yet now it stood out so easily.

He was so enthralled by their new shapes, that he almost missed their sudden stiffening. And the way both twins turned at once towards the shore, and then began to splash their way through the water to where they had laid down their equipment. They were just beginning to stride onto dry ground when the first Orc burst from the trees at the far side of the lake.

A dozen more followed immediately after, turning into a crashing throng of ferocity and poorly forged steel and gnashing teeth, made worse by the sudden arrival of a Warg towards the rear of the raiding party. The creature was huge, easily equal the size of a horse, and it's fangs stood out among its monstrous wolfen jaw. It's face was more shrivelled than a normal wolf, it's nostrils larger and eyes smaller and every feature out of balance enough to make looking upon it a horrifying prospect even without its ragged brown fur and sharp claws. And even from here its cunning could be seen as it slunk back into the shade of the trees and yet continued to slink around the side of the lake, hoping that its targets would lose track of it in the throng of battle and it could strike them unawares.

Aragost's bow was in his hand in a moment, an arrow plucked from his quiver and ready to be strung, only to see the way that the twins stood. They had drawn their blades from their sheathes, and yet these weapons that they had practiced for half a millennia they held with uncertainty, and their arms did not show the confidence and strength that their many years of practice should have shown. And he realised that in their transformation, they had lost the strength of men, that let them stand on the battlefield and fight in the defence, and been cursed with feminine weakness. They had gone from proud warriors, to maids in need of protection. And no matter how quickly his arrows flew, they would never stop all foes before the twins were set upon many foes.

And so thinking faster on what might better help them in the moment, his bow was not his first weapon of choice, but instead the humble charcoal pen. For with it's point did he write a new rule that would be engraved upon the world and indeed would be made part of it from its very inception. And thus things would change forever.

Old Rule: Females fight just as well if not better than Males.

His bow was back in his hand as soon as it was done, and this time an arrow did fly quickly into the eye of one orc. Only for a quick slice to sever the head of two at once as they closed upon the twins, who now even nude could fight such piteous foes with ease. And so battle was joined.