KEY CHARACTERS: http://mrkiller.narod.ru/tol/Eng-quen.htm (thanks to this
wonderful sindarin dictionary!!)
Celebudun (originally Celebestel)- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, Archer, scout, trap-runner. Lover of Dolinconin Name Translation: SilverHell, *formerly SilverHope
Dolinconin- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, swordsman and warrior Name Translation: Hidden Hero
Glosaras- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, dagger and shieldwoman Name Translation: Shining White Deer
Marucas- Human freedom fighter against Sauron, warrior and secret leader of Gondor rebels
Alhana- Human freedom fighter against Sauron, warrioress and scout, betrothed of Marucas
Borcan- Dwarven freedom fighter against Sauron, axe-weilder and underground Lord of the lost dwarven kingdoms
The lands.are dark. The soil useless here and the trees twisted with long fermented hatred. So long has it been thus, so long have we been enslaved and so long has it been since the Free Races failed.
Hubris.yes that is what many called the Fellowship nowadays. A group formed from the Hubris of the resistant fools of Arda who only sought to put off the inevitable. Well whatever they truly once were, they are now either dead or long gone, failed, shamed, and impotent. It was by the misjudgement of these Nine Walkers that our land was cast into shadow nearly one thousand years long gone. This is our plight and our world, but not all who dwell within it are helpless.
They are The Nameless and they are a dying world's last hope.
Two pinpoints of bright cerulean light pierced through the thick copse that overlooked the gathering horde. They were grim stars in a world where the true stars had all been quenched by the hand of darkness. They narrowed to slits of icy light before withdrawing into the treeline. A voice hissed from the tall dead Mallorn tree that stood not far from where the watcher crouched like a pouncing cat, "*What do you see O Eyes of Death, Celebudun?*"
Celebudun spun about slowly, his blue eyes calculating the slender female elf that watched him. He was a tall elf, svelte and catlike with hair of molten silver rolling down his back like braided mithril and peircing blue eyes that could melt straight through your soul like an acid, "*I see a whole legion of Sauron's children down in the valley. They set up camp and light fires that smoke horribly. How careless they have become, eh Glosoras?*"
The elfess snorted and slid from her tree limb perch, "*A great pity that the wizard Mithrandir slew the Balrog so long ago.their march through Moria might have been a little easier for us had the beast still existed to taste their flesh.*" Snowy hair rolled down her back in waves as it settled from her descent to the ground, "*Come.we must get to camp before we are seen. Have you checked for traps?*"
Her companion turned to distantly regard the forest that surrounded them, dark and lonely, "*Aye.and nothing have I found. Perhaps the orcs are still apprehensive about entering a place that was once so full of the Elder Magics.no matter how dead it is now.*" He sighed as Glosoras came to walk beside him, following him to the ruins of Lothlorien.
The Ruins of The Golden Wood were indeed dead as a fallen leaf with not a drop of pure nourishment left. Long ago had its source of magic either fled or fallen at the hand of Sauron Naurhen* and long ago had it fallen to shadow. It was a specter of its old glory now, a haven to those firstborn who had been bold or foolish enough to stay behind when the White Ships had sailed for the Undying Lands. The only thing truly 'golden' left to it now were the memories that stilled played in the haunted shades of her dead Mallorn boughs and the only true life that existed within it currently was a small rag-tag company of misfits. Most of which were seated around a small, smokeless fire.
Borcan the dwarf muttered unhappily (as per usual) and looked up from the fire, his face falling even further when he saw that the two elves who approached were NOT bearing good news. He grumbled at the two of them, "So what ill will do ye two bring us tonight eh?" He snorted and poked at a scrawney coney that was roasting on a stick propped near the fire. This was not one of their nights.
Celebudun stood near the fire and spread his hands, addressing the small company in the Common Tongue, "Well we were right. Sauron's orcs have moved positions from the Deeping Coomb, through Moria to here. My guess is that he's figured out that we didn't stash any Gondor Rebels in Helm's Deep so now he's spreading out. Where ARE they stationed Marucas??" He looked to the dark haired human prince.
The haunted eyes of the cast out prince turned towards the fire, the flame light dancing in their dark depths as he thought, "I have two legions posted in the underground cavers recently constructed beneath Gondor.and three scattered about within the borders of Fangorn Forest. The ones in the forest should be decently safe as nothing inhabits Orthanc now, but the ones beneath Gondor must watch where they tread." He looked up and around at his fellows.
The auburn haired Alhana stared mutely into the fire for she spoke very little nowadays and ate even less. Her ribs showed plainly through her leathers for the most part and her eyes were hollow. The princess had gone slightly mad ever since their skirmish in the Fallen Mirkwood some weeks long past where her sister Mailenea had been discovered, raped, beaten and dying. She had lived only a week afterwards and it had left her poor sister fit for little more than fighting. Marucas wrapped an arm around her gently and continued to watch the dancing flames of their meager fire.
War was upon them in the worst possible way and Mailenea had not been the only one to taste it. It hung over all of them and it had taken one of their own from their fold. Dolinconin had been taken prisoner shortly after a failed attempt upon the life of an Uruk commander.they had not seen him since and it was almost a sure fact that he was dead. The loss wore upon his young lover Celebudun in a fearsome way, the acidic hatred within him swelling to a deadly degree. These were the costs of their war.
The Nameless stood together around their small, unnoticable fire. Blood at dawn.blood at dawn.these were their thoughts in entirety at the moment. The blood of Orc would spill at dawn.
Down in the valley that lay before the dark, gaping mouth of Lorien, the orkish army milled about aimlessly for the most part. In the morning they would make the march through the dead elf city, but for now they simply rested and lost themselves in their petty vices of alcohol and gambling. A pained cry rent the air and a few of the orcs looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. It sounded like someone was having fun with the prisoner again.
In the latern-lit tent that belonged to the commander of the huge orkish legion, Bezgru took his leisure with the bloody captive who lay tied at his feet. He tapped the handle of the brine soaked whip carelessly on his thigh before crouching down and tipping his prisoner's chin up, smiling at the pain and misery there. He let go and watched the exhausted elf's face drop to the dusty floor. As the elf struggled to sit up, he kicked him in the ribs and sent him sprawling on his side, laying out of his cot to watch his captive try and get up again.
Bezgru smirked wickedly, he admired his prisoner's spirit and it was obvious that he would not be broken any time soon, but what could one expect from a foolish rebel? Through beatings, torture, death threats, and rape the elf had remained totally loyal to whomever it was he served, not speaking a word of their location or of their origins. The Uruk Hai chuckled and picked the elf up, depositing him on his cot. This game could last for quite awhile.but Bezgru was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
He held the elf down and crouched over him, looking deep into the dialated granite colored eyes. His prisoner was responsive, even though not very coherent, gasping slightly and cringing instinctively when his Uruk captor raised a powerful hand. A small whimper escaped his throat when the thick palm closed around his chin, stroking his cheek with a thumb. The unwanted intimacy drove him near mad and he lashed out, biting deep into the monster's hand.
Bezgru snarled and pulled back, slapping the elf hard across the face and pinning down the slender creature's arms, "Your defiance really is admirable elf.but when I decide to end our little game this won't look good for you. Remember.I can give you to my men whenever I wish, after all, you aren't the only fool elf left in Middle Earth for us to get information from." His snarl turned into a wicked smirk as he dragged a claw down the prisoner's naked chest.
Inside his mind, the lone elf prayed.
Author's Notes! Yippy Skippy people! I finished chapter one and chapter two hangs in the woodworks. For those of you who haven't guessed yet, this is an AU fic set 1,000 years after the Ring was retaken by Sauron. Please don't flame me, I love y'all.
Celebudun (originally Celebestel)- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, Archer, scout, trap-runner. Lover of Dolinconin Name Translation: SilverHell, *formerly SilverHope
Dolinconin- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, swordsman and warrior Name Translation: Hidden Hero
Glosaras- Elven freedom fighter against Sauron, dagger and shieldwoman Name Translation: Shining White Deer
Marucas- Human freedom fighter against Sauron, warrior and secret leader of Gondor rebels
Alhana- Human freedom fighter against Sauron, warrioress and scout, betrothed of Marucas
Borcan- Dwarven freedom fighter against Sauron, axe-weilder and underground Lord of the lost dwarven kingdoms
The lands.are dark. The soil useless here and the trees twisted with long fermented hatred. So long has it been thus, so long have we been enslaved and so long has it been since the Free Races failed.
Hubris.yes that is what many called the Fellowship nowadays. A group formed from the Hubris of the resistant fools of Arda who only sought to put off the inevitable. Well whatever they truly once were, they are now either dead or long gone, failed, shamed, and impotent. It was by the misjudgement of these Nine Walkers that our land was cast into shadow nearly one thousand years long gone. This is our plight and our world, but not all who dwell within it are helpless.
They are The Nameless and they are a dying world's last hope.
Two pinpoints of bright cerulean light pierced through the thick copse that overlooked the gathering horde. They were grim stars in a world where the true stars had all been quenched by the hand of darkness. They narrowed to slits of icy light before withdrawing into the treeline. A voice hissed from the tall dead Mallorn tree that stood not far from where the watcher crouched like a pouncing cat, "*What do you see O Eyes of Death, Celebudun?*"
Celebudun spun about slowly, his blue eyes calculating the slender female elf that watched him. He was a tall elf, svelte and catlike with hair of molten silver rolling down his back like braided mithril and peircing blue eyes that could melt straight through your soul like an acid, "*I see a whole legion of Sauron's children down in the valley. They set up camp and light fires that smoke horribly. How careless they have become, eh Glosoras?*"
The elfess snorted and slid from her tree limb perch, "*A great pity that the wizard Mithrandir slew the Balrog so long ago.their march through Moria might have been a little easier for us had the beast still existed to taste their flesh.*" Snowy hair rolled down her back in waves as it settled from her descent to the ground, "*Come.we must get to camp before we are seen. Have you checked for traps?*"
Her companion turned to distantly regard the forest that surrounded them, dark and lonely, "*Aye.and nothing have I found. Perhaps the orcs are still apprehensive about entering a place that was once so full of the Elder Magics.no matter how dead it is now.*" He sighed as Glosoras came to walk beside him, following him to the ruins of Lothlorien.
The Ruins of The Golden Wood were indeed dead as a fallen leaf with not a drop of pure nourishment left. Long ago had its source of magic either fled or fallen at the hand of Sauron Naurhen* and long ago had it fallen to shadow. It was a specter of its old glory now, a haven to those firstborn who had been bold or foolish enough to stay behind when the White Ships had sailed for the Undying Lands. The only thing truly 'golden' left to it now were the memories that stilled played in the haunted shades of her dead Mallorn boughs and the only true life that existed within it currently was a small rag-tag company of misfits. Most of which were seated around a small, smokeless fire.
Borcan the dwarf muttered unhappily (as per usual) and looked up from the fire, his face falling even further when he saw that the two elves who approached were NOT bearing good news. He grumbled at the two of them, "So what ill will do ye two bring us tonight eh?" He snorted and poked at a scrawney coney that was roasting on a stick propped near the fire. This was not one of their nights.
Celebudun stood near the fire and spread his hands, addressing the small company in the Common Tongue, "Well we were right. Sauron's orcs have moved positions from the Deeping Coomb, through Moria to here. My guess is that he's figured out that we didn't stash any Gondor Rebels in Helm's Deep so now he's spreading out. Where ARE they stationed Marucas??" He looked to the dark haired human prince.
The haunted eyes of the cast out prince turned towards the fire, the flame light dancing in their dark depths as he thought, "I have two legions posted in the underground cavers recently constructed beneath Gondor.and three scattered about within the borders of Fangorn Forest. The ones in the forest should be decently safe as nothing inhabits Orthanc now, but the ones beneath Gondor must watch where they tread." He looked up and around at his fellows.
The auburn haired Alhana stared mutely into the fire for she spoke very little nowadays and ate even less. Her ribs showed plainly through her leathers for the most part and her eyes were hollow. The princess had gone slightly mad ever since their skirmish in the Fallen Mirkwood some weeks long past where her sister Mailenea had been discovered, raped, beaten and dying. She had lived only a week afterwards and it had left her poor sister fit for little more than fighting. Marucas wrapped an arm around her gently and continued to watch the dancing flames of their meager fire.
War was upon them in the worst possible way and Mailenea had not been the only one to taste it. It hung over all of them and it had taken one of their own from their fold. Dolinconin had been taken prisoner shortly after a failed attempt upon the life of an Uruk commander.they had not seen him since and it was almost a sure fact that he was dead. The loss wore upon his young lover Celebudun in a fearsome way, the acidic hatred within him swelling to a deadly degree. These were the costs of their war.
The Nameless stood together around their small, unnoticable fire. Blood at dawn.blood at dawn.these were their thoughts in entirety at the moment. The blood of Orc would spill at dawn.
Down in the valley that lay before the dark, gaping mouth of Lorien, the orkish army milled about aimlessly for the most part. In the morning they would make the march through the dead elf city, but for now they simply rested and lost themselves in their petty vices of alcohol and gambling. A pained cry rent the air and a few of the orcs looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. It sounded like someone was having fun with the prisoner again.
In the latern-lit tent that belonged to the commander of the huge orkish legion, Bezgru took his leisure with the bloody captive who lay tied at his feet. He tapped the handle of the brine soaked whip carelessly on his thigh before crouching down and tipping his prisoner's chin up, smiling at the pain and misery there. He let go and watched the exhausted elf's face drop to the dusty floor. As the elf struggled to sit up, he kicked him in the ribs and sent him sprawling on his side, laying out of his cot to watch his captive try and get up again.
Bezgru smirked wickedly, he admired his prisoner's spirit and it was obvious that he would not be broken any time soon, but what could one expect from a foolish rebel? Through beatings, torture, death threats, and rape the elf had remained totally loyal to whomever it was he served, not speaking a word of their location or of their origins. The Uruk Hai chuckled and picked the elf up, depositing him on his cot. This game could last for quite awhile.but Bezgru was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
He held the elf down and crouched over him, looking deep into the dialated granite colored eyes. His prisoner was responsive, even though not very coherent, gasping slightly and cringing instinctively when his Uruk captor raised a powerful hand. A small whimper escaped his throat when the thick palm closed around his chin, stroking his cheek with a thumb. The unwanted intimacy drove him near mad and he lashed out, biting deep into the monster's hand.
Bezgru snarled and pulled back, slapping the elf hard across the face and pinning down the slender creature's arms, "Your defiance really is admirable elf.but when I decide to end our little game this won't look good for you. Remember.I can give you to my men whenever I wish, after all, you aren't the only fool elf left in Middle Earth for us to get information from." His snarl turned into a wicked smirk as he dragged a claw down the prisoner's naked chest.
Inside his mind, the lone elf prayed.
Author's Notes! Yippy Skippy people! I finished chapter one and chapter two hangs in the woodworks. For those of you who haven't guessed yet, this is an AU fic set 1,000 years after the Ring was retaken by Sauron. Please don't flame me, I love y'all.