First story I have actually bothered to TRY and bring to words. If you
think it's worth reviewing, please do so, and nicely heh.
Oh yeh, I'm not Tolkien. Therefore, I don't own any of the characters used, and I don't any of the locations. Wouldn't mind though.
Meh, on with the story..
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"The Forsaken Ones" -include beings of Hobbit, Human, Dwarven, and Elven race.
"Forsaken ones are creatures of the night. They cannot exist by daylight, for Anar's rays burn the creatures from within and turn their bodies to ashes. They are neither living nor dead, and few know about their past. Even the very place of their origin is yet unknown. They are deadly, though they are scarce and rare to come upon. When one does come to face that of a Forsaken One, there is little hope to see one of the living again, for they feed on the blood of the four races from which they came.
Forsaken Ones differ in appearance to the living, and hold similarities to themselves only; whether they are of Hobbit, Human, Dwarven, or Elven descent. They have deep black hair, and empty, piercing black eyes. Their skin is a silvery-black color; thus they blend well into the darkness of the night. They have great speed and strength, and their vision is unsurpassable. They are more than capable of piercing the thickest shadows. Their stealth is well-developed; even greater than that of an Elf, and only the most skilled are able to detect the footsteps of a Forsaken One.
There is a slight transformation when they feed; their eyes grow crimson red with the desire and need for blood, and their teeth grow long and sharp to pierce the skin to draw the one thing they need the most.
They are also immortal and can only be slain by the separation of Mind and Body. They are emotionless and incapable of feeling any physical pain.
No one knows what awaits these creatures of the night after death, for a spirit exists not in the Forsaken Ones."
Elrond Peredhil lifted his grey eyes from the crinkled manuscript, which threatened to crumble between his fingers. Astonished at the discovery of another race dwelling in Middle-earth, he leaned back in his chair with thoughts racing through his mind.
The half-elf had devoted the entire reign of Isil to his books, refueling his mind with lore and knowledge when he had come across the manuscript hidden between the pages of the oldest book in his possession. It fluttered to the floor then, and Elrond could not help but wonder. Upon reading it, he discovered the existence of the Forsaken Ones.
And now it was morning. The Lord of Imladris, Rivendell in the Common Tongue, looked out to greet the golden Anar, guided by the fiery- eyed Arien, who was now climbing the clear blue sky of Arda. The half-elf breathed a sigh of weariness, and breathed in the cool air of Autumn, refreshing both mind and body.
The son of Eärendil was very handsome to behold; his soft, jet- black hair was spun of silk, and wrapped round his tall, lithe body. At the moment, his ebony locks were held back with a clip made of mithril, revealing the pointed, leaf-like ears and the strong, yet gentle face. His skin was fair and smooth, and he held a youthful appearance; as all elves do. Only his eyes betrayed him, for the grey pools reflected the loss and wisdom only an elf as old as he could have obtained. Right now, these exquisite orbs were slowly glazing over as Elrond mused with great intensity and concentration.
"Forsaken.. creatures of the night.. emotionless.. without a spirit.." The words slipped from the half-elf's rosy lips without realizing it. Eyes glazed over, he mumbled again, "How could I have not known?"
"Father?"
For the first time in 2000 years, the normally composed Lord of Imladris was startled out of his mind. He gave a small yelp of surprise and knocked over his chair during his hurry to get up. Whirling around, he found his daughter, Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of their people, staring back at him with bewilderment and confusion clearly etched in her beautiful face.
Heart still pounding, Elrond regarded his daughter. Yes, the Evenstar truly was beautiful. Long, wavy black hair inherited from her father cascaded past her shoulders and hugged her slim waist. The silken strands framed a fair, half-elven face. Exquisite eyes looked at him with unspoken questions. and concern was swimming freely in the deep blue eyes.
"Father?" she repeated in her melodic voice.
A soft sigh of relief was her answer; though why she knew not.
Continued, maybe?
Oh yeh, I'm not Tolkien. Therefore, I don't own any of the characters used, and I don't any of the locations. Wouldn't mind though.
Meh, on with the story..
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
"The Forsaken Ones" -include beings of Hobbit, Human, Dwarven, and Elven race.
"Forsaken ones are creatures of the night. They cannot exist by daylight, for Anar's rays burn the creatures from within and turn their bodies to ashes. They are neither living nor dead, and few know about their past. Even the very place of their origin is yet unknown. They are deadly, though they are scarce and rare to come upon. When one does come to face that of a Forsaken One, there is little hope to see one of the living again, for they feed on the blood of the four races from which they came.
Forsaken Ones differ in appearance to the living, and hold similarities to themselves only; whether they are of Hobbit, Human, Dwarven, or Elven descent. They have deep black hair, and empty, piercing black eyes. Their skin is a silvery-black color; thus they blend well into the darkness of the night. They have great speed and strength, and their vision is unsurpassable. They are more than capable of piercing the thickest shadows. Their stealth is well-developed; even greater than that of an Elf, and only the most skilled are able to detect the footsteps of a Forsaken One.
There is a slight transformation when they feed; their eyes grow crimson red with the desire and need for blood, and their teeth grow long and sharp to pierce the skin to draw the one thing they need the most.
They are also immortal and can only be slain by the separation of Mind and Body. They are emotionless and incapable of feeling any physical pain.
No one knows what awaits these creatures of the night after death, for a spirit exists not in the Forsaken Ones."
Elrond Peredhil lifted his grey eyes from the crinkled manuscript, which threatened to crumble between his fingers. Astonished at the discovery of another race dwelling in Middle-earth, he leaned back in his chair with thoughts racing through his mind.
The half-elf had devoted the entire reign of Isil to his books, refueling his mind with lore and knowledge when he had come across the manuscript hidden between the pages of the oldest book in his possession. It fluttered to the floor then, and Elrond could not help but wonder. Upon reading it, he discovered the existence of the Forsaken Ones.
And now it was morning. The Lord of Imladris, Rivendell in the Common Tongue, looked out to greet the golden Anar, guided by the fiery- eyed Arien, who was now climbing the clear blue sky of Arda. The half-elf breathed a sigh of weariness, and breathed in the cool air of Autumn, refreshing both mind and body.
The son of Eärendil was very handsome to behold; his soft, jet- black hair was spun of silk, and wrapped round his tall, lithe body. At the moment, his ebony locks were held back with a clip made of mithril, revealing the pointed, leaf-like ears and the strong, yet gentle face. His skin was fair and smooth, and he held a youthful appearance; as all elves do. Only his eyes betrayed him, for the grey pools reflected the loss and wisdom only an elf as old as he could have obtained. Right now, these exquisite orbs were slowly glazing over as Elrond mused with great intensity and concentration.
"Forsaken.. creatures of the night.. emotionless.. without a spirit.." The words slipped from the half-elf's rosy lips without realizing it. Eyes glazed over, he mumbled again, "How could I have not known?"
"Father?"
For the first time in 2000 years, the normally composed Lord of Imladris was startled out of his mind. He gave a small yelp of surprise and knocked over his chair during his hurry to get up. Whirling around, he found his daughter, Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of their people, staring back at him with bewilderment and confusion clearly etched in her beautiful face.
Heart still pounding, Elrond regarded his daughter. Yes, the Evenstar truly was beautiful. Long, wavy black hair inherited from her father cascaded past her shoulders and hugged her slim waist. The silken strands framed a fair, half-elven face. Exquisite eyes looked at him with unspoken questions. and concern was swimming freely in the deep blue eyes.
"Father?" she repeated in her melodic voice.
A soft sigh of relief was her answer; though why she knew not.
Continued, maybe?