ad it really been almost twenty-eight years? He couldn't believe it, but the calendar did not lie. It was in T.A. 2994, fully twenty-five years before the War of the Ring that he was born among the soldiers' families that lived on the first level of the White City. And now, in the third year of the Fourth Age, Hoyamir Saxalein was rapidly approaching another birthday. As a Ranger of Gondor, however, it was far from certain that he would see it come.

oyamir decided at an early age that he would follow his father's example and serve in the ranks of Gondor's armed forces. His father, Hoyador Saxalein, was a Captain of the Tower Guard, serving on Minas Tirith's first line of defense. His career had been all but pre-destined, as Hoyador was the son of Bardor Saxalein, a celebrated swordsman of the late Third Age, and Yarmila Quintain, herself accomplished with the bow.

oyamir's mother, Bethanir Ledermacher, was the daughter of Torvald Ledermacher, the famed tanner of Minas Tirith. Her cousin, Arno Ledermacher, carries on the business to this day, and the family's shop in the Marketplace is the largest purveyor of leather goods in the city. By rights, this shop should have passed to Bethanir, but she abandoned her inheritance to seek true love, as Hoyador had caught her eye won her heart. Scandalized by this, Torvald had disowned his daughter, and it was many years before the two were reconciled. Today, Bethanir and her family are once again close, and her children grew up alongside their cousins.

oyamir's ancestry and his diligent training distinguished him as an excellent soldier, but his keen mind and sharp eye marked him for more than a lifetime of guard duty. He could still remember the day eight years before when his Captain called him in. Hoyamir stood before his superior, calmed by the broad grin on the older man's face. “Hoyamir, I've known your father a long time…served with him on the walls for more shifts than either of us would care to recall. And I've always known you'd make a fine soldier – maybe even officer material, like us. But I heard from Captain-General Boromir the other day that the Rangers are in need of some new recruits, and he asked me to suggest some of our best.” At once, Hoyamir's calm dissolved. “I didn't have to think twice – I gave him your name.”

oyamir's hand shook as he saluted his Captain and said, “Thank you sir! Thank you! I promise you won't be sorry!” With a chuckle, the older man replied, “I know I won't. That's why I chose you! Now head down to Ranger Headquarters and report for duty. And make us proud!” These last words were shouted at the eager nineteen-year-old's back as he dashed out of the Captain's office.

he days and weeks went by in a blur after that, with Hoyamir spending countless hours training in the ways of the Rangers. He learned herb-lore and tracking from the best men in the White City, and he returned, exhausted, every evening to share what he had learned with his parents and his younger brother, Regendir. Though he was constantly pushing himself, the next five years were among the happiest of his young life. His swordsmanship commended him to the attention of his superiors, and they placed him on an accelerated training schedule. Before long, he was training with a variety of weapons and learning to ride a horse.

n one of those odd coincidences that Eru seems to love, it was at this time that Hoyamir traveled with his parents to Edoras and Meduseld, the Golden Hall of King Theoden. Those days were hard for the Rohirrim, with their King languishing on the throne and his son fighting valiantly across the Westfold. Despite the dark times, Hoyamir befriended a young horse breeder, and when he left the Mark she gave him a fine black Friesian named King to ride as his own. In this way, Hoyamir returned to the White City with his own mount, and the two became inseparable.

ar came to Osgiliath in the summer of Hoyamir's twenty-fourth year, and Hoyamir saw many of his fellow trainees called off to defend the Fortress of Stars. Few of them returned, and on his birthday Hoyamir watched from the Great Gates as his Captain-General rode off to seek the counsel of Elrond in Imladris. More and more men were called to fight the encroaching forces of darkness, and in the following year, the torrent of Sauron's minions finally broke over the Rammas Echor and flooded the Pelennor Fields.

f Hoyamir's deeds in that battle little is recorded. He was but one of the countless men and women who answered the call to defend their city and the lives of their fellow citizens, and he was one of the much smaller number who survived. When asked, he would not boast, but would tell the tales of the great heroes that legend has since burnished to a glossy sheen. He was content to say little about himself, save “I fought as well as I could and by Eru's grace I was spared.” But few begrudged him his personal tale, as his retelling of the legends was a joy to hear.

t is one of the great ironies that a man who is so well suited to the martial life should be blessed with the soul of a poet. Like Faramir, whom he has grown to idolize, Hoyamir Saxalein can be aptly described as “a lover of lore and music.” Though his accomplishments in the field have helped him to rise to the rank of Captain of the Rangers' Roquen Division, he has never lost his love for a tale well told, and it was a source of great pride when he earned the title of Bard of the White City. He continues to serve the city he loves - always on guard, never at rest.

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