What if…centuries after the events of the Return of the King, Sauron, Elves, Dwarves, and even Hobbits and the Rings of Power were forgotten? Their exploits ravaged by the passing of time, all but a precious few still remembered the history of what was once called Middle-Earth. Even the deeds of many famous figures were forgotten such as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, Legolas, Gandalf, and even Sauron's army's worst nightmare, the Gravewalker.
Disclaimer: I do not own either Fire Emblem or Shadows of Mordor. Fire Emblem is the property of Nintendo's Intelligent Systems, and Shadows of Mordor is the property of Monolith Productions and Warner Bros; with the world belonging to J. R. R. Tolkien (Bless his soul).
Prologue:
Night had fallen on the plains of Sacae. Many of the youth of the Lorca tribe gather around the fire in front of the chieftain's tent, while the children's parents would get ready for the night.
The youth of the Lorca giddily gathered around the chieftain's campfire, quietly cheering when Chief Hassar stepped out from his tent. Just behind him stood his wife, holding the hand of their six-year old daughter, Lyn.
Hassar sat down and smiled at the children. "What story would you like to hear tonight?" he asked the kids.
A short clamor of voices requested many stories, but none of the children could agree on any one story, leaving Hassar to quiet the children. "Since we cannot agree on a story, how about I tell one of my favorites from my youth?" he suggested.
One of the boys closest to Hassar snickered. "You had a youth, Chieftain?" He said, getting some of the children giggling at their chieftain being called old.
Hassar smiled at the kids' laughter, even if it was at his expense, and laughed along. "Yes, I had a youth. It was just many, many years ago," He looked at the children one more time and said, "You have all grown so much. I believe that it is time that you hear one of the most popular stories among our older members. Who wants to hear about the Gravewalker?"
Despite the enticing name, none of the children had heard of the Gravewalker before. "Who's that?" a young girl asked.
"You will find out tonight. The Gravewalker was one of the most powerful opponents to Sauron's power during the days of his final defeat."
The kids around the fire looked around in slight apprehension. They had noticed that over the years of listening to Hassar's stories, the battles and hardships in the stories had gotten more detailed.
"So…what's the story about?" a boy asked.
"The Gravewalker started life as a Ranger of Gondor by the name of Talion. Talion was posted to the Black Gate as punishment for accidentally killing a nobleman of Gondor. His family moved to the Black Gate, and they stayed there for years, with Talion's son, Dirhael, was close to becoming a Ranger as well."
Some of the children felt excited about this story, but something felt different about this story. Usually, Hassar speaks happily when telling stories, but his tone had a forlorn feel to it. They remembered that the Black Gate was an ancient structure that sat on the border between the long-gone nations of Gondor and Mordor. It had been untold centuries since the true defeat of Sauron, with history turning into stories, then legends, and then tales that few had ever heard. The Lorca were one of the few groups in the world that still remembered the history of ancient Middle-Earth as vividly as a book.
"Dirhael was close to finishing his Ranger training when the Black Gate was attacked by the servants of Sauron. The defenders on the Black Gate were quickly overwhelmed by the swift attack, allowing Sauron's armies to once more reclaim Mordor with no resistance."
Even as the children found themselves absorbed in the story, some of the older Lorca decided to stand nearby and listen in.
"All of the people stationed on the Black Gate were killed, including Talion, Dirhael, and his wife, Ioreth."
The children looked at each other and started asking confused questions. "That's it? Talion died? Just like that? Why tell us this?"
Hassar and the older Lorca smiled knowingly and waited for the youths to quiet down.
"Talion's story does not end there, children. Due to being one of the strongest and most skilled Rangers at the Black Gate, Talion and his family were chosen for a sacrificial ritual. Three of Sauron's most powerful servants, the Black Captains, attempted a ritual to summon a powerful Wraith as a precaution in the event that the One Ring was destroyed."
The children's eyes widened as Hassar mentioned names that they had never heard of. They knew that Sauron had powerful servants, but they had never heard of these three.
"Talion, Dirhael, and Ioreth all died that fateful night; but something happened that the Black Captains did not anticipate…Vengeance."
The children all looked at Hassar in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The Wraith that they attempted to summon was no ordinary spirit. They attempted to summon the Ring-maker, Celebrimbor—greatest smith of the Second Age. He forged the Rings of Power, but opposed Sauron's will when the Elves discovered Sauron's true intentions."
Hassar looked at the sky and slowly exhaled. "It seems that it will soon be time for you to sleep, children. Go to your families, and I will continue Talion's story tomorrow night. His tale is a sad, yet intriguing story."
Some of the children voiced their chagrin at having their story cut off, but it was getting rather late. They stood up and went to turn in for the night—looking forward to the next story.
Hassar and his family went into their tent and got ready for bed. Hassar watched as his wife put their daughter down in her bed and kissed her goodnight. Hassar laid down on his bedroll, and waited for his wife to lie down next to him.
"I love you, honey." Hassar said happily.
"I love you too, Hassar."
The two shared a deep kiss and then went to sleep, the two of them anticipating what the next day would bring.
The very next day, the Lorca tribe woke up early in the morning, with many of them quickly getting ready for the day. One such Lorca was a boy that had recently turned thirteen. This boy has jet-black hair, and amethyst-colored eyes that shone with a burning passion for all. One of the many things he liked doing in the morning was to find a new way to wake up his sister. Another of his favorite things was to eat and then play with the other kids of the tribe. As time passes, however, things change for people. They get older, gain more responsibilities, learn more about the world. Yet amidst the uncertainty of age, comes new opportunities.
Galomir decided to give his sister a break from rude awakenings and quickly ate, dressed himself, and left his family's tent. He was beyond excited for today, since it would be his first true day of training.
I can't wait to start training to be a warrior! I'm gonna be just like—no, better than my dad! he thought, feeling himself getting more and more pumped with each step toward the training grounds.
Passing by some of his friends, Galomir felt a slight conflict. He wondered if he should just decline and head on his way, tell his friends what he's about to do, or just keep walking. Either way, he knew he couldn't afford too much time to play with them; and he knew that 'just a few minutes' would quickly eat up more time than he bargained for.
"Hey, Galomir! Wanna play?" one of the kids asked.
"Sorry. I have something to do right now." replied Galomir.
"Aw come on, it's probably not that important anyway!" the kid retorted, walking over to Galomir.
Galomir shook his head. "It's important."
"Aw…Well, when you have time, you know where to find us!" the kid said, waving at Galomir.
He nodded, waved his friends good-bye, and kept heading toward where he was supposed to get his training. As his friends watched him leave, one of them said, "Hey, isn't he heading for the training grounds?"
"Wonder why he's going there? We kids aren't allowed there since we might get hurt."
"Probably to talk to his dad or something."
When Galomir reached the training grounds, his eyes slowly widened in awe. There were twenty-five people spread throughout the training grounds. Some were sparring with wooden sticks, and the others were standing by, waiting for their turns.
Galomir looked around, searching for his dad, but he didn't see anyone he easily recognized. Where's dad? he thought.
"Hey, kid, you shouldn't be here. You could get hurt." one of the men waiting around said.
"I'm here for training, actually." Galomir said sheepishly.
"Oh? And who told you that you could do that?" the man asked.
"My dad."
"Who's your father?" the man asked.
"Kuru."
Realization dawned on the man's face as he nodded. "You're Kuru's son?…I can see the resemblance now. Your dad's with Hassar right now. They'll be back soon."
Galomir was slightly disappointed, but shrugged. "Is there anything I can do before I start?"
"You could fetch us some water until your father gets back; goodness knows we could use some." the man said.
Seeing nothing else to do, Galomir said, "I'll go get some. How many cups?"
"Just get a big bucket of water; we've got water skins here."
Galomir left the training grounds, returning a few minutes later with a large bucket of water that he was struggling to carry.
Many of the men that were training looked at the boy, slightly impressed by how dedicated he was to getting some water, while others were touched. Looks like we have some kids that are still compassionate. they thought.
"Hey! Who told you maggots to take a water break?" a voice boomed, startling everyone on the field.
Galomir recoiled on hearing the voice that yelled at all these men. He recognized it, yet it was completely foreign to him.
He looked to where everyone else was looking and saw Hassar and his dad walking toward them. That was dad that yelled? he thought in surprise. He had never heard his father yell like that before.
As Hassar and Kuru approached the men, Galomir felt that something was not quite right. The older men seemed to be much calmer than the younger ones—with a few of them even smiling as if humored.
The men quickly lined up side-by-side, and waited for whatever Kuru had in mind.
"Who told you that you could have water, and who gave it to you?" Kuru demanded, looking at one of the men.
"I-I don't know! Someone came by with a big bucket of water and some water flasks, and we were really thirsty, and we couldn't help ourselves!" the man replied nervously, as if expecting some sort of punishment.
Galomir watched in total shock as Kuru picked up a training sword and hit the man's face with it. This was his fault! If he hadn't brought the water to the warriors, then this poor man would not be getting beaten by Kuru. He nervously swallowed and said, "Dad, it was me!"
Kuru's practice sword was only inches away from hitting the man's face a second time when Galomir's voice stilled him. He looked in the direction of Galomir's voice, but the line of men hid him.
"Galomir? Was that you?" Kuru asked.
Galomir risked leaning out from the line to look at his father. "Yes, sir."
Kuru walked past the rest of the men, and approached Galomir. "So you were the one who have them water?"
Galomir felt his voice lodge itself in his throat, but found it seconds later. "Yes, sir."
Kuru crouched down to look Galomir in the eye. "I'm assuming that you didn't know?"
"Yes, sir."
"Son, I hate to say this, but ignorance is no excuse as a warrior. The rules are that no one is allowed to have water until we say so; and you gave water to them. I cannot let this slip by just because you are my son."
Galomir looked down in shame. His first day of training and he already broke what sounded like a big rule.
"Which is why you passed!" Kuru said proudly.
Galomir looked back up at his dad in utter confusion. What? Passed? Huh? he thought. "What?"
"You passed the first test." Kuru stated.
"What test?"
Kuru patted Galomir's shoulder and smiled. "Everyone here had to take this test when they first started. We call it the Test of Compassion."
Realization dawned on Galomir's face. "Ohhh…You wanted to see if I would care about people I don't know before you would train me."
Kuru stood up and handed his practice sword to Galomir. "You passed the test, showing that you will at the help people and admit to it, even if it would get you into potential trouble. Just remember that not everyone that puts on a friendly smile and attitude has the best of intentions."
Galomir nodded. "Can we start my training now?"
Kuru smiled at his son. "Of course, son." I am so proud of you. he thought as he picked up another practice sword and took a stance, waiting for Galomir to do the same.
Galomir assumed a stance, wondering what his first official lesson would be. He slowly grew apprehensive as his father stared at him. Uh-oh. Did I mess up? He tried to slowly adjust his stance, looking uncertain if his new stance was any better.
Seeing the discomfort on his son's face, Kuru spoke up. "You are probably thinking that you messed up, and you are doubting yourself for it."
Galomir's eyes looked up into his father's. "How…?"
"Your expression and body language gave it away."
"My expression? How?"
"Son, a master swordsman is able to tell everything about another man just by looking at him."
Galomir pondered what his dad said, but found it odd. "How does that work?"
Kuru smirked and walked over to Galomir. "Let us work on your stance."
Galomir hesitated, but took the stance he first used.
Kuru walked around Galomir, examining every little part of the stance. "Oh dear. I can count at least ten ways to disarm you, fifteen ways to knock you off balance, and thirty-six ways to outright kill you, son."
"That bad?"
"It's not as bad as you think. With a few small adjustments, I can easily reduce it to four ways to disarm you, eight ways to knock you off balance, and eighteen ways to kill you." Kuru said nonchalantly, making small adjustments to Galomir's stance.
"Plant your feet further apart, pull your shoulders back a little bit, lower your head a little, and angle your arms in a way that would allow you to easily use your sword for offense or defense," Kuru said, walking away from Galomir when he was done. "Much better. Now, make sure you master this stance, for it will be your foundation for training. If you neglect to master your stance, you will fall in battle."
Galomir swallowed nervously at the thought of dying and said, "I will learn this stance, dad, don't you worry about that."
"Good."
The rest of the day went by quickly for Galomir. He lost himself in every word that his father told him about the art of swordsmanship. As the months went by, Galomir could tell that his body was adapting to his sudden change in lifestyle. He grew leaner, yet his muscles thickened, giving him a nimble, yet tough, appearance.
One day, Kuru opted to simply watch the training, and take a chance to speak with Hassar.
After greeting each other, Hassar and Kuru walked to the edges of the training ground—far enough to not be bothered by the trainees, but close enough to make sure they don't slack off while they were talking.
"The new batch of trainees is coming along nicely." Hassar said.
Kuru nodded. "Indeed they are."
Hassar and Kuru watched as the trainees sparred with one another. As they watched, they saw Galomir sparring with a trainee not much older than him.
"It must be hard for him to find a suitable partner." Hassar said, gesturing to Kuru's son.
"He'll manage."
"He is progressing very quickly. He'll be done with the training in a few short years, I reckon." Hassar commented.
Kuru sighed and lowered his head. "About that…"
Hassar looked at his friend. "Yes?"
Kuru shook his head and shrugged. "It's nothing."
"It's always something with you when you say 'it's nothing,' so what's the nothing?" Hassar said, turning to give Kuru his full attention.
Kuru hesitated but looked at Hassar in the eye. "I want to give Galomir Ranger training."
Hassar slowly raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Ranger training? Kuru, you know that we don't have all the materials to truly train someone in the old ways."
"But what little we have has made some of our finest warriors. I'm living proof that even a little Ranger training can make someone a deadly fighter." Kuru replied.
Hassar slowly shook his head. "Kuru, I know that passing on what you have learned is extremely important to you…I just want to know that you aren't doing this because he's your son."
Kuru nodded.
"Look me in the eyes, and tell me that you aren't doing this just because he's your son."
Kuru looked at Hassar and said what he was told. "I'm not doing this just because Galomir in my son."
"…Fine. One one condition."
"And that is?" Kuru asked.
Galomir has to pass the same training as everyone else before you start to train him."
"Deal."
Kuru and Hassar shook hands and nodded at each other.
"You won't regret this, Hassar."
"I know."
Six Years later:
Galomir took a stance and beckoned for his opponent to make the first most. His foe lunged at his left side, but Galomir deftly blocked it, preparing for a counter-attack, but had to dodge another jab at his left side.
As he fought his opponent, his father's voice sounded in his mind. "Galomir, remember, while we must be honorable warriors, there is no shame or dishonor in retreating or in fighting dirty. Do not be afraid to move in a way that would not be allowed in controlled sparring."
Galomir and his opponent exchanged multiple blows, with neither gaining or losing an advantage in the fight.
Seeing that this battle of attrition was going nowhere, Galomir pulled away. With precious seconds between him and his foe, Galomir took the chance to scoop some dirt into his hands. Satisfied that his enemy did not see what he had done, he charged back swinging his sword with one hand, throwing the dirt with his other.
"Agh! My eyes!" his opponent yelled.
Galomir's opponent tried to back away from him, but the now nineteen-year old Lorca rammed his right shoulder into him, knocking the man down onto the ground.
Galomir quickly crouched down next to his foe and put his sword to his opponent's neck, physically declaring himself the winner.
"I win." he said. He stood up and offered his hand to the man he defeated.
"Great job, Galomir. Haven't been beaten like that in some time." Galomir's opponent said, taking the younger boy's hand.
"What's next?" Galomir asked.
Kuru smiled at his son. "There is much to be done, son. Let's get started."
As the day came to a close, Galomir found himself wandering back to Hassar's tent; wondering if his chieftain had another story for tonight. He smiled to himself when he saw Hassar step out of the tent to sit in front of the small fire.
Since Galomir was no longer considered a child, he decided to hang near the back. He found a small fence post to lean on, and waited for Hassar to begin.
"Tell us a story, chieftain!" one of the children said excitedly.
"I will do better. I will tell you about history; about real events that happened long, long ago," Hassar said. "I shall continue the story of Talion of Gondor. Does anyone remember where I left off?"
Galomir couldn't help but raise his hand.
"Yes, Galomir?"
"You said that Talion was somehow bound to Celebrimbor, the Ring-maker."
Hassar nodded and looked at all of the children. "Ah yes…Talion and his family were killed during Sauron's reclamation of Mordor. However, Talion was—as Galomir said—bound to the spirit of Celebrimbor. With Talion now being 'banished from death,' he had the ability to oppose Sauron's armies within Mordor. He spent many years killing off the officers of Sauron's armies until they discovered a small resistance force in Mordor: the Outcasts of Udûn. Talion found a friend in a former comrade of his, and they worked on finding new ways to oppose the armies of the Dark Lord."
Galomir smiled on seeing the children become entwined with the story they were being told. Who can blame them? A man that cannot die, fighting Uruks with no fear, sounds like quite the hero. he thought.
"With the aid of the Outcasts, Talion was able to find many ways to disrupt Sauron's forces: killing entire fortresses of Uruks, manipulating power vacuums after the loss of Uruk leaders, and freeing as many slaves as possible. Over time, Talion gained a reputation among both Men and the Uruks for being able to come back from the dead. As what would happen to many, the Uruk hordes would prove too much for one man, and killed Talion, only for him to back for revenge against the Uruk that killed him. This was the beginning of his reputation as the Gravewalker; a man that could die time and time again, yet always come back. Over time, Talion and the Outcasts managed to secure a symbolic victory in destroying a monument to Sauron. As a result, Talion's victory enraged one of Sauron's Black Captains: the Hammer of Sauron. The battle was fierce, but Talion managed to kill the Hammer. In the aftermath of the battle, Talion was invited to head for the coasts of Núrnen by Queen Marwen of Nurn. It was there that Talion became worthy of his reputation by learning how to control the armies of Sauron, planting even more fear in the hearts of his dark servants."
"After aiding the people of Nurn with escaping their conquered homeland, Talion located another of the Dark Captains: the Tower of Sauron. Our tribe has long forgotten the details of this battle, as well as Talion's final encounter with the Black Hand. His legends focus more on his deeds and victories, than they do getting the full story down."
As Hassar told the story, Galomir slowly felt his eyes fluttering shut. I should probably go. I've had a long, tiring day. He pushed himself away from the fence post and made his way to his tent. He walked through the tent flaps and smiled on seeing his entire family.
Kaolin walked up to Galomir and gave him a hug. "Dad said you did really good today in training! How was it? Was it hard? Do you wanna do it again?" she said in excitement.
Galomir blinked at Kaolin's rapid questions and said, "Uh…good to hear that; it was good; it wasn't too hard; and I'm going to be a warrior, so I have to keep doing it."
Kaolin smiled and let go of Galomir. Galomir stretched his back and yawned. "I'm tired, so I think I'll turn in early for the night."
Galomir crawled into his bedroll and sleep claimed him much faster than usual.
And that is the end the prologue. I have a feeling that OCs aren't the most popular thing in the FE community, but I will do my best to now make Galomir or any other OCs that I have planned to be too OP (will be a little hard do pull off when it comes to some of the things I have planned). Anyways, feel free to tell me what you think of this, as well as any ways to improve things such as grammar and story writing, and if you must, a flame or two won't hurt my feelings (I'm probably gonna get flooded with flames from now on…crap). I'm trying to get a feel for my new schedule, so don't expect too much of a timeline for chapters for a while, but I plan on not ditching this story for quite some time. As long as I follow the general plot, most things should go by rather smoothly; It's gonna be my own plot points that I'm gonna be worried about…
See ya later.