The Heavenly Sword and the Fight for Middle-Earth

Chapter 1: The Chosen One

One upon a time, many years ago, there was once a bloody war in the south. Great forces marched their way from the shadows bearing the Crow's crest on their shiny armors. They went through cities, burning houses and killing innocents as they went. Many forces tried to put a stop to the Crow's unstoppable army but none succeeded. All hope was lost in the Southern realms as it fell under destruction and death. Gone were the beautiful green fields and was left cracked and dry. The once blue sky became dark and foggy. The birds have fled while other animals were killed.

Life was lost, but one village still had hope left for freedom, even if it were a small one. Both men and women able dressed in poor armor, wooden clubs and sharp sticks as their weapons. They marched on for battle, hoping for victory but accepting their death and defeat. They believed that they will fight for their freedom, or die trying.

On the final day of the full moon, the Crow's army stood waiting patiently for the battle, strong and fearless and confident. At the very front sat their leader on the only horse, a mare with the darkest hair and eyes, both were standing proudly and fearlessly. The leader's name was Bohan, King Bohan of the Eastern realm. He was a merciless and a ferocious warrior known for his lust for blood. On his shoulder sat a large crow, that gave a loud cry before spreading its wings and flew up into the skies, it flapped its wings as it flew over the small, pathetic looking forces of the villagers. They stood facing off with Bohan's obvious large and strong looking forces. They knew that they had no chance to win this soon to be short battle, but in their hearts they had a little hope. And so the battle began.

It was bloody and gory. The villagers fell left and right, some didn't even have the chance to raise their wooden spikes, before they were stabbed their bellies or sliced through their necks. They didn't have a chance against Bohan's army, they never did. Yet, the villagers still fought. Even as their numbers dropped, they still kept fighting until they all fell to their deaths. They all were slaughtered, but their leader. He was on his knees, clutching the deep wound in his chest while looking helplessly at the lost lives of his kins, as they stared lifeless into the dark sky on the bloody ground.

Suddenly, a bright light came from the sky and fell down surrounding the leader of the villagers. Once the light was gone, Bohan lowered his hand that was covering his eyes from the bright light, only to find that the villagers' leader was still on his knees, but this time he had a mighty looking sword clutched in his hands with his head bowed. His once ripped and bloody armor was now clean and replaced with a shiny strong armor. His body was glowing as he gracefully rose to his feet with no sign of any injury. He pulled the large mighty sword, swinging it in a circle in slow motion before stabbing it into the ground. A bright light emitted from the sword and spread through the ground of the battlefield for a few minutes before rushing back to the sword before it disappeared completely.

Bohan was puzzled of what was happening. He had never seen anything like this in his life; has never read of this magic in his life or hear of it. He stared agape and disbelief as the once dead villagers rose to their feet, with clean armor and looking mighty strong. One by one they rose and walked to stand behind their leader. Just as the last man assembled, the village army leader let out a mighty cry, that sounded a little magical and, Bohan hated to admit, sounded musical and beautiful yet at the same time held so much power and strength that shook Bohan's bones.

In the blink of an eye, both armies crashed again, but this time, the ending results was in no doubt in the villagers' hands. The way the villagers were fighting was like they have been fighting in great victorious wars for year. The way they fought in the battlefield, slashing and stabbing, was like they were gracefully dancing to some kind of music only they could hear.

Suddenly Bohan found himself on the ground with his horse lying dead beside him with an arrow protruding from its heart. Climbing to his feat, Bohan found himself face to face with the glowing figure of the Villagers army leader who raised the mighty sword ready to put an end to the bloody battle. Burying the small bits of fear flattering in his chest, Bohan slowly unsheathed his long sword. With a blink of an eye, they crashed against one another. Bohan fought with all his powers, but nothing he did managed to strike the glowing warrior. Catching his breath for a brief second, Bohan failed to see the mighty sword as it swung to the sky before it came down at him with lightning speed. He fell to the ground, crying in agonizing pain while clutching his right eye as it throbbed in such pain he's never felt before. Expecting to be killed as he felt the tip of the mighty sword on his throat, Bohan was shocked when he heard the musical voice mutter, "Yield." The battle sounds stopped as both armies halted in their fighting at seeing the fall of the Crow's leader. And with that, Bohan was forced to admit defeat, for fear of his life, as two of his soldiers helped drag him away from their lost battle and away from the fearless glowing warrior.

The villagers cried and shouted happily at their victory.

The warrior, with the mighty sword in hand, made his way to one of the soldiers who was on his knees catching his breath and smiling happily. The soldier looked up as he saw his leader approaching him. The glowing leader stabbed the sword into the ground and fell on his knees facing the warrior as the Mighty Sword stood proudly between them.

Suddenly, the sword and the leader glowed brighter. Slowly from the dry ground, small green plants started growing little by little. Soon the whole battle field and beyond were covered with green grass with bits of flowers and herbs. The once dark foggy sky split allowing the almost forgotten sunlight to steam in, shinning on the Sword and it's wielder, as slowly the sky began to clear. The once lit blue sky returned brighter and more beautiful. Flocks of birds started soaring the skies again as they chirped merrily and happily than ever.

"Protecting the Heavenly Sword is your job, now" the glowing warrior said.

The young soldier, who was looking in awe at the blue sky that he had almost forgotten what it looks like, turned back to face his leader, "I will protect it with my life," he swore. The leader smile, proudly, before raising his hand and laying it on the young soldier's head, ruffling his head like one would do to a child. The glowing light began shimmering and pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat.

"My son," and with one final breath, the leader's had dropped as he fell sideways. The moment his corpse hit the ground, the glow from the sword and his body was gone in an instant, leaving a loud painful echo.

"FATHER!"