Wraith Blade
Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. All I have in the world is this Ring I found when I was digging in my garden, and you can't have it. It's mine, it came to me, my precioussss, yessss..
The blade of a Nazgul is a terrible thing. If the stroke is not fatal, as it so often is, then the wounded is sealed to a doom worse than death. They will become a Wraith themselves. Not as strong as the Nazgul, but bound to the Ring and it's fate. This comes from the final entries in the diary of Melchor, captain of the watch in the village of Bree.
The Black Riders have passed out of the village, thank the Gods. I know not what they were, but I doubt they were human. Many of my men are dead from the sheer savagery of their attack, and aside from myself there was but one survivor, a young boy by the name of Geal. We were lucky to escape with mere flesh wounds, but I fear Geal's cut may be infected, for he has been bedridden in the two days since the attack. I myself feel.strange as a result of the blow. It is much unlike other injuries I have suffered in the field of duty, as while the cut itself is small, the discomfort it gives me is immense.
Geal has fallen badly ill. I suspect the blades of the Black Riders had been covered in some manner of poison. The symptoms are as follows; Extreme shortness of breath, constant shaking, unfocused eyes, seeming inability to speak. His brow is like ice. Looking at my own skin, I see that I am somewhat paler than I used to be in colour. I shall send for the apothecary as soon as I finish my writing.
Geal and I have been sealed into a house. None are allowed in, and men with Halberds stand watch to ensure we do not leave. It is an effort just to write this. I feel drained both of life and energy, and yet I cannot bring myself to eat even the smallest morsel. I thirst perpetually, yet water does not seem to quench me. Something seems to pull at my mind from a south- easterly direction.Be it from Gondor or Rohan or even dread Mordor, I know not. I fear the poison has begun to assail my mind, as an image appears in front of my eyes in my dreams.
The hallucination, if it is indeed such a thing, is now visible during the day. I see a ring of fire, strangely curved. It seems to me that I am watched constantly by a great eye. The mere act of writing is draining me beyond measure. Geal screeched once more today. He seems to have recovered from his illness, and indeed burns with unlimited energy. He prowls around the house restlessly, and seems to communicate only in those screeching wails. For reasons I know not, I find them strangely comforting. I fear my own descent into madness is imminent, and then they shall burn down the very house we inhabit. I do not believe I shall ever see my family again.
My strength seems to be returning, but the eye burns ever brighter now. I must do as it commands. The compulsion of Mordor is ever burning now. Tonight we shall leave, go to the service of our Wraith-king, under the dark blessing of the Eye, the free lands shall fall, the Ring shall be returned to the Dark Lord. (Here the excerpt breaks off into the dark script of Mordor for a while) I can fight no longer. My body is no longer my own.
Manuscript ends
What did you think? Obviously I don't know what it feels like to be turned into a Ring Wraith (Which are, by the way, the coolest things in LotR, with Ents coming in a close second), but I think I gave it a fair old whack. I reasoned that Frodo, being a Hobbit, would not be as able to resist the effects of the Wraith Blade for as long as a fully trained soldier.That's my excuse, anyway.
Reviews are nice, flames are funny, and random comments are read, so please leave any of the three! Until next time, seeya! DC
Kari's Angels (www.geocities.com/happy_hylian/main.html)
Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. All I have in the world is this Ring I found when I was digging in my garden, and you can't have it. It's mine, it came to me, my precioussss, yessss..
The blade of a Nazgul is a terrible thing. If the stroke is not fatal, as it so often is, then the wounded is sealed to a doom worse than death. They will become a Wraith themselves. Not as strong as the Nazgul, but bound to the Ring and it's fate. This comes from the final entries in the diary of Melchor, captain of the watch in the village of Bree.
The Black Riders have passed out of the village, thank the Gods. I know not what they were, but I doubt they were human. Many of my men are dead from the sheer savagery of their attack, and aside from myself there was but one survivor, a young boy by the name of Geal. We were lucky to escape with mere flesh wounds, but I fear Geal's cut may be infected, for he has been bedridden in the two days since the attack. I myself feel.strange as a result of the blow. It is much unlike other injuries I have suffered in the field of duty, as while the cut itself is small, the discomfort it gives me is immense.
Geal has fallen badly ill. I suspect the blades of the Black Riders had been covered in some manner of poison. The symptoms are as follows; Extreme shortness of breath, constant shaking, unfocused eyes, seeming inability to speak. His brow is like ice. Looking at my own skin, I see that I am somewhat paler than I used to be in colour. I shall send for the apothecary as soon as I finish my writing.
Geal and I have been sealed into a house. None are allowed in, and men with Halberds stand watch to ensure we do not leave. It is an effort just to write this. I feel drained both of life and energy, and yet I cannot bring myself to eat even the smallest morsel. I thirst perpetually, yet water does not seem to quench me. Something seems to pull at my mind from a south- easterly direction.Be it from Gondor or Rohan or even dread Mordor, I know not. I fear the poison has begun to assail my mind, as an image appears in front of my eyes in my dreams.
The hallucination, if it is indeed such a thing, is now visible during the day. I see a ring of fire, strangely curved. It seems to me that I am watched constantly by a great eye. The mere act of writing is draining me beyond measure. Geal screeched once more today. He seems to have recovered from his illness, and indeed burns with unlimited energy. He prowls around the house restlessly, and seems to communicate only in those screeching wails. For reasons I know not, I find them strangely comforting. I fear my own descent into madness is imminent, and then they shall burn down the very house we inhabit. I do not believe I shall ever see my family again.
My strength seems to be returning, but the eye burns ever brighter now. I must do as it commands. The compulsion of Mordor is ever burning now. Tonight we shall leave, go to the service of our Wraith-king, under the dark blessing of the Eye, the free lands shall fall, the Ring shall be returned to the Dark Lord. (Here the excerpt breaks off into the dark script of Mordor for a while) I can fight no longer. My body is no longer my own.
Manuscript ends
What did you think? Obviously I don't know what it feels like to be turned into a Ring Wraith (Which are, by the way, the coolest things in LotR, with Ents coming in a close second), but I think I gave it a fair old whack. I reasoned that Frodo, being a Hobbit, would not be as able to resist the effects of the Wraith Blade for as long as a fully trained soldier.That's my excuse, anyway.
Reviews are nice, flames are funny, and random comments are read, so please leave any of the three! Until next time, seeya! DC
Kari's Angels (www.geocities.com/happy_hylian/main.html)