Chapter One
How We Got Here
"First, I will tell you how we happened to arrive in Middle-Earth. The Story began like this…."
The wind was blowing fiercely against the sails. The ship rocked violently from side to side as the dark clouds surrounded it in black. A large wave hit the ship with enough force to launch the bow into the air, cracking the hull as it slammed back into the sea. The wind tore off the top knots of the sail, causing it to drape across the main deck, like a white sheet over a bed. The crew burst from inside the cabin, where they had taken shelter from the storm. In a frantic rush, they attempted to cut down the main sail, so as to keep it from tangling up in the others. With the sail cut down and stashed, some of the crew ran below deck to attempt to bail out some of the sea water that leaked into the bow from the crack. The rest of the crew began working the ropes until they were untangled and back in place. Suddenly, a roaring wave that dwarfed the ship slammed into the stern, taking the crew completely unaware. The windows of the cabin shattered inward, and flooded the deck in black water. The ship started to sink lower as more and more water poured in from the wave. Finally, the wave passed. The captain, a rugged elf by the name of Keoth, burst from the cabin doors onto the deck. Frantically looking about, he noticed a rocky silhouette in the distance. Knowing they cannot survive the night if they stayed on the sea, he called out, "Ay, set what sails we have left! We must head for land, or the Sea will surely swallow us!"
The crew barely heard what the captain said over the roar of the wind and waves, but every man knew exactly what he wanted. They dropped the remaining two small sails from their rolled positions. The wind caught both with dangerous ferocity, nearly snapping the first smaller mast in half. The captain grabbed two other men and ran to the tiller, leaning all of their weight against it in an attempt to steer the ship toward land. After minutes of straining, the ship began to lurch in the desired direction.
"Everybody brace! Grab on to something!" Bellowed Keoth over the raging wind. With the hard wind in the sails, the ship was moving toward the rocky beach at a great speed. After a few minutes, the crew could fully see the land they were about to hit. Sharp rocks awaited to devour the ship. Suddenly, there was a resounding THUD and a splintering sound that rang through the air like a whip crack. The ship had run aground on a rock beneath the surface still five hundred or so feet from shore. The captain rushed down the deck, instructing everyone to swim to shore. The entire crew jumped into the icy sea and swam as hard as they could toward shore. The captain waited until the last crewman had jumped, then he himself bailed. The water was ice on his skin, almost causing him to go into shock when he hit the surface. Within seconds though, he was swimming harder than ever. The five-hundred feet felt like a thousand, and he never truly seemed to make progress. He noticed a splashing about thirty feet to his right. He glanced, water hitting him in the face as he attempted to make out what it was. Then he realized it was Belathor, the youngest member of his crew, aging only fourteen winters.
"Help!" he screamed, the words ringing in Captain Keoth's ears. But the captain could see Belathor being pulled back into the sea by a fiery riptide that seemed as if it had the power of a sea serpent. The captain knew that the second he got close to it, he would be ripped away as well. Keoth had no fear of death, of that there was no doubt. But he knew that if he died attempting to save Belathor, the rest of the crew would surely parish in this unknown land. Keoth mouthed the words "I'm sorry" just as Belathor was dragged underneath the current, disappearing; never to be found or seen again. It was his first and last voyage.
The crew was waiting on the beach and hauled the captain up when he got close enough. Everybody was scared, of that the captain knew. First, Keoth knew he had to take a count to see if anyone was missing. The crew consisted of nine people; six elves, and three men. Albondiel, Dholeoth, Galan, Elrohir, Erlan, Jandar, Calaelin, and Libryn were all that remained after Belathor. Keoth knew they needed supplies from the shipwreck, but the priority was warmth. About a quarter mile inland, they could see a tree line. Knowing it would provide some shelter from the wind, the captain ordered everyone to head to the woods. As they trudged inland, he looked back one last time to the splintered remains of the ship that was continuously being hit like a sword trapped between an anvil and a smith's hammer. Thinking of Belathor, he turned away from the sea, trying to shake the image of the drowning boy from his mind. But he knew that he would be haunted by the memory until he himself met his grave, and embraced the cold death beyond.
The crew set up a makeshift camp within the borders of the forest and hunkered down for the night. It was a long, cold night for them. They were able to light a fire, and although it was a feeble bit of warmth, it made the evening just a little bit better. Hungry, cold, and still damp from the swim, the crew made an attempt to get some sleep. A wolf howled in the distance, sending chills through the camp. While they were not afraid of wolves, the sound signified to them that they had no idea where they were, or of the possible dangers that lurk just within the unfamiliar shadows. It was a long, cold, and sleepless night.
When the party woke in the morning, they awoke to a sight not expected. Surrounding their encampment was a party of armored men sitting upon brown and black steeds. Surprised, they looked to the captain for the next move. Keoth noticed that they were not professional fighters, for they only wore leather armor strapped over ragged tunics. Their swords displayed small bits of rust here and there, indicating that is was iron. A cheap alternative to steel. The horse's saddles were tattered and worn, and the reigns were frayed. The men on horseback did not put out an immediately hostile presence, so the captain stepped forward to be addressed.
"Who is in command of this party?" Questioned one of the men, stirring his horse forward.
"I am, my friend. My name is Captain Keoth of the Freewind and we ship cargo for the Western Sails Trading Company in Aman. We-"
Before the captain could finish, he was interrupted by the horseman who seemed to be their leader.
"A Captain? Of what ship? I see none nearby, and if you had any proper and legitimate business to do, you would come through the port of Forlond, downriver. Leading me to believe that you and your party are truly up to no good. Tell us, Elf…" said the man as he drew his battered sword, "...why are you truly here in Forlindon?"
"Forlindon? Are you saying we are in the western country?" questioned Keoth.
"Yes, Elf, you are on the western fronts. How do you not know where you are? Your skills as a captain must be severely lacking…"
"Last night, during the storm, the Belegaer Sea was raging mad. I have never seen waves as high, it was as if the Gods themselves wanted us gone. We only barely made it out, and we lost one of our crew. Our ship is pierced upon the rocks, just a short walk from here on the coast."
"You truly expect me to believe that, don't you?"
"You can walk and see the cursed ship yourself! We have no wrong business in this land. In fact, we have no business at all! We got lost at sea in the storm. Three days it was. We were sailing blind in this voyage! Pardon me for expecting some common decency to a fellow man!"
"Man? HA! You are no man. I see only two men among you lot. The rest of you belong hiding in the trees with your kinfolk! You think you can just through two men-…"
Just then, one of the other horseman interjected, "Boroth, do not let you prejudices blind you. These are not the elves that imprisoned your father; do not treat them as if they were."
"Shut up!" hissed Boroth, "you forget your place!"
"We had three, mind you!" said Keoth, "One was lost during the storm and I demand you show his memory some respect!"
Boroth, pretending not to hear the captain, continued: "I know for sure your story is a fake due to the fact that I have never seen an Elf captain a ship. It would be no wonder you wrecked so far from home!"
Keoth was so red in the face that one of his crew had to calm him down.
"You sir, are the worst kind of dirt. If I had a proper weapon, I swear I would cut you down off that beast of yours!"
"I have heard enough! Gentlemen, bound these lying fools! We will let the King sort this lot out. Take them!"
And with that command, the men jumped off their steeds and ran into the group of sailors, clubbing them with the hilts of their swords. Keoth was trying to fend off one of his attackers when he felt a huge THUMP on the back of his head, and the world went black. The last thought that went through his mind was of Belathor, screaming for him to help. It never came.