A/N: Hi everyone. I know many of you are no doubt out for my blood for my long delay in posting on my other story. Well, this is part of the reason why. I started working on this about 3 years ago and only just got done writing this today. I should tell you that I have never written a story of this nature before and I'm treating this as a bit of an experiment. You will determine its success or failure. WARNING: several references and words are relatively obscure pieces of Middle Earth literature. Casual Tolkien fans may find trouble understanding certain parts. There is a word key at the bottom of this chapter to clarify the key words that must be understood in order to make sense of the story.
Before the Elder King
I could see nothing but swirling mist. Gray, insubstantial vapors drifted around me in a perfect circle. I shakily stood up, still unsure as to what had just happened. The surface on which I had laid upon just moments before was no longer a substantial substance as it would be generally defined. Once I'd risen, I found that I could not feel any floor beneath my feet, yet I did not have the sensation of falling. It simply felt as if I was simply floating within a perfect sphere of clear air within a sea of mist; a sphere in which gravity did not seem to exist.
As I slowly revolved, trying to pierce the obscuring fog and discern what lay beyond, a voice echoed, not only through the air, but also filling my mind. The sensation of the voice was more overwhelming than anything I had ever experienced. It felt as if I was not hearing a single voice, but rather a cacophony of voices speaking in perfect harmony. Moreover, I felt an alien presence within my mind. A vast far-reaching consciousness that felt like it was permeating every corner of my mind with its power. Each separate voice rang with commanding authority and power, while the presence simply swelled within my mind in correspondence to the voice. Their combined power and might completely overwhelmed me and drove me to my knees as I cradled my throbbing head.
"Welcome, Outsider," said the presence. "Your arrival is not unexpected."
Fear, wonder, confusion, and doubt of my personal sanity chased each other around the small portion of my mind that was still my own to command. The Presence seemed to sense my emotions, for it seemed to become softer and less overwhelming as it gently said. "Fear not. You are in no danger."
After an undetermined length of time, I finally found my voice. "You-you've been expecting me?"
"Indeed," came the reply. "All the parallel worlds within the multiverse are overseen by a power. We are always aware of each other, and occasionally converse. Very rarely, we even make alliances and exchange information and or aid between the worlds. We made a contribution to your domain several generations ago, and now the return has been collected."
"Exchanges?" I asked.
"Usually this is in the form of information becoming available to the mortal residents of the worlds in question. Very occasionally a representative is sent to the allied world in exchange of equal value for the information given. You are an example of this."
Adopting my best neutral expression and embracing my formal, diplomatic side, I responded. "Why are these individuals taken to strange alien worlds that they may or may not wish to be a part of?" I asked.
As the presence discerned my change in demeanor, and the reasons behind it, a flicker of amusement embellished the Presence's reply. "You are proceeding under the assumption that the individuals are taken against their will."
This short reply was slightly surprising, not because I didn't expect the answer, but because the response was almost exactly as I myself would have posed the response; short, to the point, and thought-provoking. It was as if the Presence was adopting my own personality.
"So," I said slowly, "How can you be sure that the transference of people is assured the consent of all parties involved?"
"We only accept very specific individuals. Only those who have a very close emotional attachment to the corresponding world are ever considered."
Frustration clouded my senses. The Presence was being infuriatingly vague, forcing me to ask even more questions, and answering with statements that invoked even more questions. With a pang, I realized that this was exactly the kind of word games I liked to play. This did not improve my mood.
I took a minute to compose myself and to regulate my voice, conscious all the while of the growing amusement of the Presence. Finally I said, as calmly as I could "I would very much appreciate more direct answers to my questions. Where am I? Who are you? And, possibly most importantly, why ME?"
"We can answer all of those questions, but first, we would like to give you the opportunity to attempt to answer them yourself."
"We?" I asked.
As I spoke, the voices split, separating from each other to become their own individual sensations which I could discern.
"I'd be happy to play this game, if you would give me more to go on than several disembodied voices in a sea of mist," I replied.
"Very well," said the voice that still resonated the loudest. "See, deduct, and interpret what you will."
With only the slightest whisper of wind, the mist cleared, the air solidified beneath my feet and turned smoothly into stone, and shapes materialized before me. Momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight, I squinted and tried to make sense of the surroundings. I had a confused impression of sky, mountains and woods. Then, as my eyes adjusted, I took in the scene in more detail.
I was standing in the center of a great circle, at least 50 feet in diameter. The circle was made of white marble, interlaced with a bright silver substance that I couldn't identify which formed intricate patterns across the stony surface. Surrounding the circle, were what seemed at first to be small towers of varying substances.
As I looked upon them, however, I realized that they were not towers, but thrones. Colossal thrones, each one slightly different, but each possessing a certain innate majesty. And as I continued to stare at the thrones, I realized with a jolt that almost sent me to my knees again, that majesty was not the only thing they possessed. There were a pair of legs in front of each of the thrones, each one as wide as my entire body. Slowly, I raised my eyes higher and finally perceived fully what it was I was seeing.
There were figures sitting in a circle around me, each one around 20 feet in height. A casual observer would say they were human, but it was obvious to me that there was something…unearthly about them. Their faces were too angular, and their bodies were too smooth. Devoid of any blemishes that would appear without conscious effort on a normal human. I recognized these features and a number of possibilities flashed through my mind. Numbly, I did a head count. Fourteen.
"Welcome," said the being furthest from me, and who seemed to lead the group. He had a soft voice which sounded like a breath of air, yet held the potential of a growing storm. "As I said before, interpret what you will."
"Well, I'll shelve the possibility that I am having a very weird dream," I answered, to scattered chuckles. "Tell me the clues again?"
The being smiled in an amused fashion. "You are in a world separate from your own, yet a world that you know."
"Well, that clears it up," I replied somewhat sarcastically, as I tried to analyze my surroundings. I looked around at the stone bowl, and the fourteen thrones, and my first thought was that I had entered into the citadel of Mount Olympus. As soon as that thought came to me, I knew it was incorrect. Mount Olympus traditionally housed twelve gods, not fourteen. It seemed that the beings could still read my thoughts, even if they were no longer within my head, for the being to the left of the leader spoke;
"You are on the right course of thought, young one, but pantheons of that nature still belong to your world." His voice was deep and dark, as if welling up from a deep ocean, very similar to the god Poseidon.
I took a better look at my surroundings, at the grassy hills, at the shining white city in the distance to what seemed to be the north, and at the range of mountains to the east. As I scanned the mountains I noticed a gap that I hadn't seen before in the impassable wall of rock. A gorge directly east of the circle barred by a great gate of the same silvery substance that laced the stone under my feet. As I continued to watch, conscious of the beings continued observance of my thoughts, I raised my eyes to the mountain tops. They seemed relatively gentle slopes, and yet they stretched up to an unimaginable height. The tallest of them, reached up above the clouds high above me. And, atop that topmost peak, there shone the reflective walls of a shining white tower.
At the sight of that tower, a thought struck me. A thought so overpowering, yet so fitting, that it buckled my knees and sent me once more to the floor. I slowly turned to stare at the beings in the thrones, once more counting. The numbers matched, but the concept of my thought was too outrageous to imagine. Stuff like this only happened in fanfiction stories I used to read online.
"And why does the fact that your culture writes about us for entertainment mean we don't exist?" asked what looked like the oldest of the beings.
"Because its impossible!" I protested weakly, fighting the evidence of all my senses.
"You are among those of your world who believe in the theory of multiple universes?" he asked.
"Yes, but…" I broke off, seeing where they were going. If the Multiverse Theory of Infinite Universes and Realities in which life existed in any and all imaginable shapes was correct, than the relevance of the source of the knowledge was dissolved. The realization of the truth of their words slowly seeped into me, and with each drop of comprehension, I became increasingly emotionally overwhelmed. "Is this…Valinor?"
They said nothing, but their silence was the silent confirmation I had not dared to hope for. From out of a deep well, it seemed, my mind slowly ground back into motion, and I remembered my manners. Slowly, as if in a trance, I walked toward the closest of the thrones and looked up into the face of the closest of the ancient ones. She looked down at me with a smile upon her face. She had jet black hair, and a simple brown dress embellished with a cloak the color of evergreen trees. It took a while for me to recall a name to match the description, but, upon doing so, I bowed before her and looked up into her face.
"Lady Nessa, the Dancer," I said. "She who takes joy in racing the beasts of Endor, but most revels in dancing upon the grassy slopes of Valinor." The woman's smile widened, and she inclined her head.
I bowed again and shifted my attention to the next throne. This one held a man. He wore elaborate golden armor, made after the ancient Noldorian fashion, which almost masked his blond hair. His body was incredibly muscular, and he looked to be in an exceptionally good mood. It took me far less time than before to identify him.
"Lord Tulkas, the Valiant. The ever gay and cheerful. He who delights in feats of strength and prowess. Husband to Nessa." Tulkas let out a booming laugh of approval and nodded.
Moving on, I bowed before the next of the queens. She had long blonde hair and wore flowing robes of gray and turquoise with few embellishments, yet still possessed a great beauty. In her presence, I could feel my aches and pains fading from perception, and for this reason I was able to identify her as well.
"Lady Este, the Gentle," I said. "The healer of hurts and giver of rest. Wife of Irmo." She gave me her famous sly smile and winked.
"And Lord Irmo," I said as I looked upon the man sitting next to his wife, who was clad in green robes and, upon hearing his name, inclined his head.. "He who is commonly named after his dwelling place of Lorien. One of the two Feanturi, the Masters of Spirits. Deliverer of Dreams and Desires."
I stopped before the next throne, for the woman sitting in it I could not name. She looked older than most of the other women. She had long braided hair that fell down the length of her back, and she wore a dress of deep red cloth. Trying to get a clue as to who she might be, I studied her dress and her throne, until I noticed that she was holding a spool of yarn within one of her hands.
"Forgive me, Lady Vaire," I apologized. "I did not immediately recognize you. You who weave into your tapestries the chronicled stories of the happenings of the world." She somberly nodded.
I nervously turned my attention to the next throne, knowing who I would see. The man in this throne regarded me coldly, having not appreciated my lapse of memory where his wife was concerned. Knowing of his cold and indifferent reputation, I attempted to conceal any signs of caution upon my face as I looked at him and said, as formally as I could;
"Lord Namo, more commonly known by Mandos, the name of his halls, where the deceased of Arda go to live out the remainder of their existence in quiet slumber. Giver of prophecy and the doomsman of the Valar of Valinor." Mandos did not acknowledge my words, but continued to gaze at me, although the coldness did seem to retreat slightly from his eyes.
Rather eager to get out from under the glare of Mandos, I hastily turned to the next throne, though not before I heard a low chuckle from Tulkas as he discerned my thoughts.
I did my best to ignore him as I looked upon the next of the Valar. As I looked into her eyes, for she was female, I saw a trickle of tears falling down her cheeks. Into her shoulder length black hair. As we looked at each other, I felt as if all my worries and woes and regrets were all being lifted from my shoulders. I then knew who this was, and I looked at her gratefully as I said;
"Lady Nienna, the Merciful, bearer of the hurts of Arda. She alone of the Queens of the Valar who walks alone."
She tearfully nodded, and I, wiping tears of joy of my own aside, proceeded to the next throne. This one, another woman looked very young and was wearing very loose raiment of what looked like a combination lace and flowers.
"Lady Vana, the Ever-Young. She in whose presence the flowers of Arda take joy in blooming in even the worst of weather." I intoned. She, like others before her, inclined her head.
As I looked upon the next Vala, I knew him at once. He was tall, and wore armor similar in fashion to Tulkas, but he wore a great bow of gold across his back and in his lap was a huge war horn.
"Lord Orome, the Great Rider and the Huntsman of Valinor. Whose great horse, Nahar, fathered the first of Meras. He who first came to the Eldar and guided them into the Undying West. Husband of Vana." Orome smiled at me and nodded.
As I looked upon the next queen of the Valar, I had no trouble identifying her. She wore a bright green dress with brown embellishments, the same shade as her hair. Her eyes were alight with warmth as she looked at me.
"Lady Yavanna," I said. "The giver of fruits. The care of all things that grow from the earth is her province. She who is responsible, however indirectly for the creation of the Onodrim, as guardians of her forests from…outside influence." I said this last part cautiously, knowing that a misinterpretation could be disastrous, but apart from yet more amused muttering, there was no response to this last remark on the part of the other Valar.
"Lord Aule," I said, bowing deeply before Yavanna's husband. "The Smith of the Valar. The Father of the Dwarves, and the maker and lover of all things of stone and metal." The man to whom I spoke, a bare chested man with a cape of blood red and a huge smithing hammer across his lap, nodded at me and smiled in a way that let me know he was not offended by my criticism of his creations.
I knew who was left now, and my knees could, once again barely support my weight. I looked upon the next throne, and looked into the wild tangled beard and deep blue eyes of the next Vala. His aged skin was toned a light shade of blue, and he wore a set of armor made from what looked like underwater crustaceans.
"Lord Ulmo, Lord of the Seas. He who dwells alone, and not in Valinor, but in all the waters of Arda. He who holds its peoples closest in his thoughts." Ulmo's face crinkled in a smile as he acknowledged my words.
As I turned to the next throne, I had to fight the urge to squint my eyes, for the light emanating from the last queen was almost too great to endure. It was difficult to discern what she wore, for I could perceive only her face, a face that held beauty and light of a kind the surpasses description. I dropped to my knees before her throne and gazed wonderingly at her.
"Queen Varda. Greatest of the Queens of the Valar, most beloved of the Eldar. She who's beauty surpasses description, and in whose face, it is said, shines still the light of Illuvatar himself. She it is who created the star, sun, and moon, and who is called Elbereth Gilthoniel." She smiled, and her light seemed to brighten with warmth and comfort.
A sense of overwhelming fear and respect came over me as I stumbled to my feet and made my way shakily to the last and greatest throne. I knew who this was, yet so overcome was I with emotion that I could not speak. I simply knelt and bowed my head at his feet, saying simply;
"My lord."
"Rise, child," said Manwe gently. His words were soft, as a breath of air. Yet they filled me with the courage I needed.
I slowly rose to my feet and looked up into the kind face high above me. Manwe wore robes of a deep blue shade emblazoned with purple and gold tassels. Atop his throne, like a great living gargoyle, perched a giant eagle, who sat sentinel, silently watching the proceedings. Manwe himself appeared to be middle aged, with long black hair and the long angular face characteristic of both Valar and elves. He wore a circlet of gold around his head, and bore a long scepter of sapphire. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally found my voice.
"Lord Manwe Sulimo," I whispered, using his surname as well. "Lord of the Valar, the Elder King, High King of Arda, and chosen favorite of Illuvatar himself. The domain over the skies and creatures of wing is yours, and your sight is limitless. You are the eldest and most powerful of the remaining Valar, and dedicated your early time in Arda undoing the hurts caused by the Fallen One. Your dwelling is within the palace on the peak of Taniquetil, where you dwell in peace with your spouse, Varda."
Unable to say more, although worried that this speech might seem insufficient, I lowered my head again and waited for him to speak, but he did not, nor did any of the other Valar. I knelt, silently before Manwe and waited.
Manwe did not speak. Nor did any of the others. The silence dragged on, and doubts began to fly around my head about my etiquette. I tried to shut them out. I had to, They could all hear me, but my indecision tore at me to respond. I forced myself to remain still, kneeling at Manwe's feet. I reminded myself of the teachings of the ancient Dragon Rider Oromis from the Inheritance books back home. His greatest lesson was the value of patience.
And so, I released my worry about my performance. Sooner or later something would happen, and I was content to wait for the next serving that fate decided to deal me. It was only then, when I became truly relaxed, that I sensed a change above me. Though curious, I did not raise my head, merely waiting.
Dead silence. Then...
"I like this kid," Tulkas's booming voice cracked through the silence so suddenly I almost jumped. I looked around to see him laughing in his throne, completely at ease.
His words had an immediate effect on the others. They all relaxed their faces, and Aule grinned in appreciation of his brother's joke, Nessa rolled her eyes at her husband's antics, and Ulmo let out a deep chuckle.
"We won't smite you to ashes if you speak," he told me. I took that to mean that the introductory formalities had come to a close, and thought that it was indeed safe for me to ask questions.
"Indeed," Yavanna said. "Ask away. We don't bite."
"Very well," I responded. "Then, with all due respect, my lords,...what the hell is going on?"
"Call it an...exchange program, if you will." suggested Orome, and the surrounding Valar chuckled once more in their approval.
"But what is going on?" I inquired, looking beseechingly at Manwe.
"It is not my place to tell you that," he responded gently.
"But then, who-?"
"The place is mine, young one," said Lorien, his voice floating to me from the other side of the circle. "I was the one who implanted the idea, or more accurately, the dream of this world into the mind of your John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. He was less a creator then a mouthpiece for me to speak through. His works were the result of visions given to him in his sleep, and, to my knowledge, he remained oblivious to their true source until he died. You are the second half of that exchange."
"...Exchange?" I inquired.
"All of our worlds coexist together in the infinite vastness of the multiverse," Lorien replied. "Everything is interconnected, and, occasionally, things will pass between our worlds."
"Imagine the multiverse as an infinite ocean," Ulmo rumbled from behind me. "Our worlds are but tiny islands dotting it's surface, separated by distances transcending time and space. However, for those of us with sufficient seafaring knowledge, travel between them is occasionally possible."
"Ahh..." I said, beginning to understand. "And that makes me...?"
"Occasionally different worlds exchange information. EXCHANGE being the operative word. Certain wisdoms and insights can be passed between us, thus encouraging a mutual growth for all of us. However, my dear nephew's gift to your late professor was substantially more than had ever been given before. And thus something of equal value had to be returned; such are the laws of order and nature. We decided that, as Tolkien became something of our representative to your world, it would only be fitting if we selected a representative for our own."
I looked up into Ulmo's face, then into the faces of the other gods. They were all watching me, as if waiting for something. It finally occurred to me just exactly what they were all looking at.
"...me?" I whispered. "I'm your chosen representative?"
"Indeed," Manwe replied. "The debate was long and tedious, and there were many applicants to sort through, but in the end, the council voted for you. Father approved, and so you were brought here."
"Why me, though?" I asked. "There are millions of lovers of the Tolkien legacy back home. Why me out of all of them?"
"It is true there are many patrons of Tolkien on your world," Lorien agreed. "But you have certain characteristics that are almost unique among them."
"Such as?" I asked.
"Your mind has a very open connection to the multiverse." Lorien explained. "When you slip into your trances, part of you was actually accessing our reality. We all felt it every time you did so. It was extremely weak, but it was there. Therefore you were ideally placed as the easiest to retrieve because a part of you had already been here."
"Trances?" I inquired, more confused than ever.
"I believe you refer to them as Live Action Role Playing sessions." said Ulmo quietly.
I stared at him for a full 5 seconds before throwing my head back and roaring with laughter.
"My LARP games! My Lords, you can't be serious! I-I use those as an escape from reality and as a creative conduit!"
"How many of your senses do you utilize during your trances?" Manwe asked quietly
"Umm...all of them," I replied, nonplussed. "Why?"
"If you imagine the forests of Laurelindorenan, you can smell the Elanor blossoming at the roots of the outer Mallorn trees, yes?"
"Uh, yeah. I sometimes smell flowers when I'm in Lothlorien," I said hesitantly.
"When you are smelling something that isn't there, even as you are sitting in the middle of you classroom-"
I hung my head to conceal the color in my face as Manwe casually mentioned my less than stellar academic record.
"-don't you ever wonder how you are able to?"
"I guess I just thought I was imagining it..." I said, half to myself.
"Child, there's a great deal of difference between imagining a taste or smell and actually EXPERIENCING it," Manwe sighed. "When you actually experience those senses, a part of your mind is linked with this world."
"Ahh," I said, beginning to understand. "And I'm the only one who can do this?"
"There are several others who could, and who no doubt would have made better candidates," Mandos spoke up suddenly, his voice, though ancient, was as cold and emotionless as the Void.
"Oh, Mandos,"Aule sighed. "More of your whining?"
"As the decision has already been made, there would be no point gained in complaining about it," Mandos replied without taking his eyes off me. "'Whining' is a spiteful and immature act. Concepts that this boy is no doubt quite familiar with."
I refused to meet Mandos's eyes, trying not to betray a hint of fear. Mandos's venom toward me, though painful, was not entirely unexpected given his history. When I could finally bring myself to talk again, I looked up at Manwe and attempted to smile.
"Am I to understand that mine was not a unanimous vote?"
"That would be an accurate assessment, yes," Manwe replied. "I'm afraid that my brother Namo didn't feel that you had the skill set required."
"So, it was unanimous other than that?" I asked, feeling slightly better at the thought. I could live with Mandos's disapproval far better than I could any of the others.
"Actually," said Orome, speaking for the first time, "It was 12/2 in your favor."
I looked up at him, shocked, but he shook his head, smiling slightly, as he said
"Fear not. I am one of your patrons."
"Than who-?"
"T'was I, young one," said a soft, feminine voice. I turned and looked down the circle to see Nienna looking back at me, the tear tracks still glistening on her face.
"Why, My Lady?" I asked.
"Should you take the road before you, your trials will be long and hard. And I am not merely speaking of physical pain, for your heart and mind will be tried and tested as well. I felt you had already been through enough pain."
I sighed, knowing what she was driving at. And now that I thought of it, she made a very good case. Back home I had next to no true friends and more than my share of antagonists, bullies, and shallow peers looking to prey on those they perceived as weak or defenseless. However, as I thought of all of those people, of all the teasings, prankings, and beatings, a flame jumped within my chest, firing me with something. Raising my head, I looked back at Nienna and said, more calmly.
"You are as empathetic and generous as ever, My Lady, and your kindness and concern is appreciated and not without cause. However, I feel compelled to reassure you that I am in far less danger of emotional repercussions in Arda than I am from my own world. Back home, I was a simple geek living off of social security income for the disabled, and spending 18 hours a day on my computer writing and reading. But I was writing and reading about you. About this world. I have invested far more into the realm of Arda than I have my own world. Therefore, it is unlikely that I shall suffer the same degree of hopeless depression that plagued me back home."
"Well spoken," Yavanna said, smiling warmly at me. "Which is precisely why you were among those considered. You value this world far more than your own in some ways."
"Just remember, the more connected you become, the harder the losses affect you," cautioned Nienna. "The road you walk in this world will be filled with danger to your soul. You will face death, lost friends, failure...and the betrayal of those you trust most."
Her last words pierced me like a shard of ice. I whipped around to stare at her, my heart hammering fast. She nodded, looking sadder than ever.
Of course, I realized with a jolt, she had been inside my head, so she knew that that would be the hardest blow. My greatest dread coming to pass. Betrayal by one I trust. I looked around at the other Valar to see them wearing quite somber expressions. I swallowed, trying to regain control.
"Nothing worthwhile comes without sacrifice," I said finally.
"Spoken with wisdom that defies your years," said Mandos, with the merest hint of surprise lacing his voice. "Perhaps we are not entirely lost after all."
I bowed before him, then looked up at him questioningly. "My lord. You stated earlier that I lack the necessary skill sets for the task you wish of me. What skill sets would those be, exactly?"
"Survival in combat," replied Mandos, returning to his previous unflappable manor. "As it stands now you would not survive more than a minute against a raiding party of orcs."
I furrowed my eyebrows, not out of the resentment I felt at his words, but out of confusion. After the destruction of Sauron, the orcs and other creatures of evil disbanded for the most part. The men of Rhun and the Haradrim had surrendered to Aragorn's armies, and a golden age of peace had fallen upon Middle Earth.
"But, my lord," I said, doing my utmost not to sound argumentative. "After Elessar's victory, the threat to the free peoples all but vanished, did it not? As far as I can recall, there were only occasional raids from orcs or goblins on outlying villages for a few months, then all went peaceful again. Why would I need to be able to fight orcs if they are all dead?"
"Because," Manwe said softly. "You are assuming that that is where you will be sent."
When I merely looked my confusion, he amended.
"Or, more accurately, you are assuming that is WHEN you will be sent."
I raised an eyebrow.
"What you need to realize," Orome told me, "Is that time in Aman is not subject to the same governing laws as time on Endor. It's not easy, but when we wish, we can bend it on occasion. If we were to send you to Endor at the beginning of the Fourth Age, you would be too late."
"Too late for what?" I asked.
"To fulfill your purpose," said Aule, his voice deep and booming. "We shall be sending you to the end of the Third Age. That should give you enough time."
"Time for what?" I asked, fighting to keep my frustration under control. "You've summoned me to this place, you've explained how, but never why. What do you want me to do?" I almost shouted the last sentence.
There was silence from around the circle. I could sense rather than hear the Valar communicating silently. Then, Mandos spoke two words into the silence. They were two simple words, quite easy to pronounce. And yet they filled me with a dread that overwhelmed every other emotion, much the same way as a raging inferno overwhelms a flickering candle. The other Valar were looking at me, alarmed. I swayed dangerously on the spot, still unable to wrap my head around it. Sure I'd heard of it. All the Tolkien scholars had. But to hear it from the same mouth that had foretold it was something else entirely.
Wave after wave of mind-numbing dread and fear crashed over me with such force that my knees gave way and I fell, landing on the floor of white marble that now, in a tiny corner of my mind not consumed by fear, I realized was laced with pure Mithril. My head hit the floor and my vision blacked out. My last thoughts were once again of those two words. My fate. My doom.
Dagor Dagorath
DUN DUN DUUUUUNNN!
There's the first chapter. As I said at the beginning, this is my first time writing this type of story, and I know that both plot aspects are overdone, but, as you can hopefully see, I've tried to make this more interesting than your average OC. I have a basic outline ready with a few twists and turns already in the wings.
But, as always, you are the main motivators behind my writing. If you like it and/or want me to continue, i shall. If you're indifferent, that's fine, and if you hate it with every fiber of your being, let me know to so that I can stop early on and spare all of us the pain.
But as always, there's only one way to let me know...REVIEW!
P.S. I almost forgot the word key that I promised you...lets see...ahh yes:
ENDOR - ancient name for 'Middle Earth'
ARDA - ancient name for the entire world, including Middle Earth and Valinor
ONODRIM - ancient name for the Ents
LAURELINDORENAN - original name of Lothlorien.
AMAN - another name for Valinor
DAGOR DAGORATH - Sindarian 'Battle of Battles', 'The Last Battle', the prophecized final battle that ends with the destruction of Melkor.