Now that I'm past the three part chapters, time to move on to the real stuff. I personally thought that the young actress Raffey Cassidy was be the perfect profile for Elanor. I just think she's beautiful and energetic at the same time, who always seems to play a part in a dark movie, so it's perfect. And I think if she sang, it would sound pretty. Plus, she's just around the same age as Elanor. What do you think?
I'll be rotating between stories, but thank you for bearing with me on this one. Check out the Hobbit stories to keep you busy, if you're interested:)
(Celebrimbor)
On the fortress, the elf wraith walked within the body of Talion, now a former Ranger captain of the Black Gate. They were bound by his vessel, body, mind, and soul. The elf was connected to the man physically and mentally. He could feel the tortured soul trapped within its dying host, which had still been clinging to life then the wraith was sucked into the Ranger's body, frozen from age and reanimated from the effect of mortal wounds. Banished from death.
As their souls became entwined, shocking and cold with a vertigo that took some time to calm, the wraith felt Talion's mind connect with his own. Exposed for him to touch and glimpse into if he pleased.
So full of memories, he thought, and yet here I am with none of my own.
At the center of the pavilion, after Talion looked over the view of Cirith Gorgor, in his hand (in elf wraith's hand) appeared a sharp-edged hammer of mithril silver.
The elf wraith frowned thoughtfully. "This looks familiar," he murmured.
Its craft was undoubtedly beautiful, Elvish-make, and obviously made for smithing. Yet the elf wraith's spirit filled with a fiercer cold that made his very essence tremble. For some reason, the nameless elf wraith was afraid of this tool and hated it with every part his existence.
But why? Talion and the wraith's thoughts mingled together as one as they stared down as the smithing hammer. Why does such beautiful craftsmanship become such a hated sight in our eyes?
(Elanor)
Forgive me. I love you, little sister. So much. Na lu e-govaned vin.
Forgive him?! He tricked me! He knocked me senseless and shoved me half-conscious down a chute! And to make things worse, he could be dead because I had been so foolish to believe him! With these thoughts, I choked on my sobs and my body shook as I wept in my hands, kneeling next to the turned over cart.
Many thoughts of what I should have done before haunted my mind. I should have seen what he had been about to do. I shouldn't have turned my back on him. I should have known that he would have done anything to make sure I was safe.
Even when it costed his life.
Get as far away from this place as you can! Go North, like you always wanted.
Dirhael never wanted me to go North. He wouldn't have said that unless he knew that there was no hope left for him.
But how can I? Brother, how can you possibly think that would even try to leave without knowing what happened to you, Mother, and Father?! I thought in complete despair.
"Dirhael," I whimpered softly, hugging my chest I bowed my head, letting silent tears run down my cheeks. "Mama...Papa..." I remembered calling them that when I was smaller. I felt small now. Vulnerable. Weak and desperate. Alone and frightened.
Something that I could not afford on my own. I could almost hear my grandfather's stern voice lecturing me now. Enough! Tears will not help anyone, child. They expose weakness to others and to yourself. A waste of time. Better to armor your heart and face the outcome with unshaken dignity.
The opposite of what my mother would say. Cry your tears, my flower. Let out your burdens and sorrows, or else they will eat you up inside. Once they have left you, you will feel stronger and lighter in mind and body.
Since neither were here, I began to wonder whose advice seemed wise to follow in this current situation.
It has been an hour since I came to and found the field of dead people laid out in front of the Black Gate, which remained sealed and motionless as ever, though darker and more wicked than ever in my lifetime.
I was taught that the Black Gate was one of the most guarded strongholds in all of Middle-Earth. It was nearly impossible to overcome and conquer because no one alive has seen it done. Not in thousands of years, at least.
And yet here it was, shrouded by darkness as thick as the plague. Here was the Morannon, once guarded by the Rangers of Gondor and Ithilien, now a cold and desolate monolith structure laid between a mountain pass in ruin. Empty and unguarded.
Or was it?
Once I had wept my tears and wiped them away, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to clear as I studied my surroundings with a sickening churn in my stomach. Father always said a Ranger must have a clear mind and a sharp wit for the means of survival. I swallowed and took a deep breath, before opening my eyes and letting my resolve harden, fists clenched to my side, even as they shook. There was no reason to stray among a field of corpses and allow myself to be spotted by any remaining Uruk, especially when I was weaponless. Not until I had had my bow and arrows in hand could I go out and search for any survivors.
Despite all the death that lay before me, I became determined to find my family. There was no use in finding them if I continued to despair, and no use in despairing until I found their bodies. I hoped it wouldn't be so. Being alone frightened me like ice in my core.
Approaching the right side of the Wall, my foot found the first hold at the base of Narcost, one of the Towers of the Teeth, then my hands against its pillared crevices. My fingers dug in the iron and stone surface, slicked wet from the rain, finding a foothold in each lump denting the fortress. My limbs burned as I began to climb. Halfway up my back began to press against the crevice side with my boot soles against the other, my head and body still aching from the crash landing, but with a pained grunt I kept going.
This is one of the greatest strongholds in the world, but if one had the chance to look more closely, they would find that the Black Gate to be not as smooth and slippery as it was once made to be. When iron rusts from water and age, it also sticks to the sides like unremovable stain, therefore granting unseen spots that can allow a better advantage in climbing.
I was so high that when I looked down, a stab of nervousness made me gulp. It was not that I was afraid of heights. I have done this many times before, to the point when it wasn't so hard to climb anymore, but I was not feeling so confident with a beaten body and slippery stone-iron. At this high up, one slip and the orcs need not kill me to finish the deed. Mother always warned me that one day I would fall and break my neck instead of my leg.
During my climb, I spotted a few narrow holes that were narrow and square-like, tilted a few degrees upward but still steep enough to camouflage with the iron grates. There were six of them in all, two stuctured on both sides of Carchost and Narchost. The channels of the Morrannon had always been there, originally used for discreetly dumping liquids and wastes (nobody wants to know what) when the Black Gate had been first guarded by orcs in the Second Age, but only the ones that guarded the Gate knew about them.
Now the Rangers of Gondor used these shafts to quickly deliver supplies to the venturing Rangers who explored the borders of Mordor, but mostly in the nearby area of Udun and not much farther than Cirth Ungol, which was across the mountains from Minas Morgul. They used this shaft, not only to save the effort of having to carry all heavy objects down the heavily forted Morannon, but for the safety of those who need not step foot in the land of Mordor.
Nobody worried about this shafts becoming an entry for unwanted intruders, being too small, narrow, steep, and slippery...unless one came from the inside. Apparently, before he forcibly pushed me down one of these shafts, Dirhael told me that he also used them as an escape route in his younger days, though I could never picture Dirhael being small and skinny in any way. To me, he was always bigger and stronger; I had to still be a toddler when he hit his growth spurt.
Then when I was eight, ever since first discovering how the shafts work, I also used them. All it required a rope and a hook to avoid any collateral damage, before the rest of the way involved climbing down the wall. That part of the Wall had been tricky to climb down at first, but I was a quick learner. I was the daughter and granddaughter of a Ranger; climbing was a part of my life.
It wasn't long until I reached the bars of my window, which side-longed with another row of windows. Its stained glass panes behind the bars, the glass shattered, I peered through the inside and saw my bedroom turned over. Feathers, blankets, and my drawers were tossed apart.
"Orcs," I whispered in disgust. As far I know, everything to orcs meant nothing to them but trash. So far, wasting the Black Gate had proven to that theory to be correct. But I didn't care about my bedroom; I cared about my family. I cared about finding a way back inside without being detected.
Clinging with both hands to the narrow ledge that structured like teeth around the midsection of the tower, my dress-shirt sweeping in the breeze, I pulled myself up until my feet stepped forward on the window ledge, hanging onto the bars for support...
CLANG!
I gasped loudly and loosened one hand when one bar unexpectedly came loose, but didn't break off as it pulled off the ledge from my weight. My heart pounding, both hands gripping tightly onto another bar with white knuckles, I realized that some of the bars were slightly bent out of shape, as though they had been pounded on when the window was shattered.
Why an orc would try to destroy a set of bars escapes me, but it provided me an easier way in. Shifting, I reached over and pulled at the loose bar, putting some of my weight into its fibers until its base started to squeal a little. When that wasn't enough, I pulled harder. I realized I was small and light, but I couldn't use all of my weight on the iron without the risk of falling.
The bar started to bend a little, and with a satisfied grunt, I pulled harder until there was a wide enough gap for me to squeeze through. Swinging my legs, I stepped through my newfound narrow entrance, my bruised body brushing painfully against the hard iron, and finally jumped from the window sill into my room.
Now that I was back in my room, the furniture trashed and turned over in a heap, I went over to my tipped over wardrobe, where my scattered clothes lay all over the floor, no doubt pillaged by those orcs right after I ran out with Dirhael. In the pile, I brushed my ruined dresses and tunics aside, until my fingers clutched around the familiar fabric of my cloak and pulled it out from beneath the wooden dresser. It was a Ranger's cloak, mottled green, brown, and gray. Though I wasn't a Ranger, or even an apprentice like Dirhael, it was still good for hiding whenever I stepped out of the Black Gate...undetected. One of the Rangers, Baranor (whom I might've had a small crush on), gave it to me a few years ago.
Baranor was most likely dead, I thought sadly, while throwing on the cloak, feeling its comforting fabric drape over my shoulders and the cowl pillowing my braid. If he was, then the selfish part of me hoped I wouldn't find his body. But then again...
Don't think about it, I scolded myself. Focus! Don't grieve for something that is only your imagination. It was the only thought that comforted me as I ran back and forth around the room, turning over things until finding my sack under my tattered bed.
Alright, don't panic now! I'm going to need food and provisions. I'm probably going to need more than my bow and arrows. I have to travel lightly.
As I bucked my belt around my tunic and shouldered my empty sack, I took one last look around my bedroom, knowing it may well be the last time I ever see it again. Sadness filled my heart when I thought about the times when Dirhael and I shared this room, playing and sleeping in separate beds, looking out the window to observe the Haunted Pass leading the lands of Mordor.
Dirhael would talk about how he could hardly wait to explore the outposts between Mordor and Gondor as a soldier, while I would talk about wanting to explore far more than just these two realms and go far North or West to see the said-beauty of those lands. To see hobbit, elves, dwarves, and Men of the West...
It was an argument that had continued for years. Dirhael wanted to stay in the Black Gate, while I wanted to leave it. But we always claimed that we would miss each other, no matter what.
My eyes blinking unshed tears as I observed the room, biting my lip painfully, before whispering in a cracked voice, "Bye." Then I swiftly turned around and starting running through the hallways.
First, I would have to reach the kitchen down Narchost's steps, nearby the main hall where I saw my parents being attacked-the memory still shocked me with terror and hatred every time I thought about it-but I forced it at the back of my mind and gritted my teeth in determination I kept running through the halls. Thankfully, there was not an orc in sight, but I kept my eyes and ears alert nonetheless.
Dirhael and I knew these passages, including the entire Morannon, by heart. Born and raised here, we would be blind and still know every passage, doorway, and stairway that wound through the entire Morannan exterior. But it did not prevent us the fear of a Uruk popping out the corner and Dirhael managing the slay it in the spot.
One wrong misstep, and I could easily be cornered by an orc as Dirhael and I had been just hours ago. The Morannon was just as enclosed on the inside as it was on the outside, making it into one big animal cage, which is why I had to tread with caution.
I gripped my letter-opener in my hand as I scurried a long way down the winding steps until I reached the large hallway. I heard the gurgling growls of orcs and froze. The main hall of Narchost was surrounded by them, pacing like animals and even feasting on a few bodies. My stomach churned with horror and disgust. My eyes darting, I pressed my body against the wall where the shadows were darkest and slid along its surface quietly, keeping my breath steady.
If I just went further down, I would easily reach the kitchen and just prayed that I wouldn't find any orcs roaming there. All I had to do was look for bread, cheese, an apple, and some water. Then go.
It will be fine, I told myself. Think like Father. Be stealthy like him. Master your fear. You can do this. Just be careful.
When I eventually reached the kitchen, which was in the lower passages of the fortress, I had to kneel by nearby barrels and turned over tables as more orcs passed by. Some lingered near the row of pots and pans, tossing asides scraps and ladles.
I knelt there, preparing my knife for to attack if I had to as I listened to the orcs growl insults at each other for a while, waiting in the shadows.
"Hands off the shiny medal! That's mine!"
"I found it first! Ye touch it, and I'll stick my blade in your gut!"
"Give it 'ere, scum!"
As they continued shoving each other, encircling the counter with jagged blades pointed at each other. One of them held something out of reach, while growling like an animal it was at the other. I waited in the dark corner behind the stove, barely hidden in view, but remained still while trying to anticipate the Uruks' moves. I could only hope they wouldn't see me, or else I would be forced to attack.
When the orcs attacked each other, I watched behind the corner of the stove with wide eyes at the barbaric scene, tempted to cover my ears at the loud shrieking that rang in my ears. I have been told that an orc's cries sound like that of a pack of wolves...but that was just an understatement. I have never really heard a pack of wolves, since no packs roam anywhere near the Black Gate anyway.
I nearly jumped when the one Uruk attacked the other that held the mysterious object. The impact clearly startled the possessor, and when the two went flying, but the Uruk's hand snapped open and the object was flung carelessly high into the air, flashing like a bright star in the darkness...and then it surprisingly landed with a light clatter at my feet.
When I saw it, even in the darkness, it seemed to glow. I quickly snatched it up, feeling its designed metal and its sharp edges against my palm, the string brushing around my fingers. I recognized it instantly and my heart went into my throat.
The Sunstar pendant. My mother's necklace.
(Talion)
Still fueling with an unspeakable rage that ran like ice and fire in his veins, Talion felt a surge of power overflow him. Somehow, as the world became bright from the shadows, he saw a whole new world. He felt like two people, filled with a cold, electrifying power that charged his limbs and somehow made him stronger. Looking out from the pavilion, with a growl of malice, he spotted a small group of Uruks marching in the area behind a set of ruined walls.
Just the very sight of them made Talion seethe with hatred. He thought of how a Uruk had held his wife in its grasp, touching her and trapping while the Black Hand...
They killed my people. They killed my family. Ioreth….Dirhael….
Talion clenched his fists. He wanted their blood. He wanted to charge them now, hack them to pieces, and rip out their guts. But high up in the tower, by the time he climbed back down...
As if reading his thoughts, he could hear the elf wraith speak, "Jump!"
What? Talion thought, frowning at the sixty foot drop from the tower. If he jumped….he was not sure if it would kill him, but it would certainly shatter his body.
"Trust me," was the response. "Just relax….and let me guide you."
Jaw clenching, Talion unsheathed Dirhael's broken sword, Acharn, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. I do not fear death.
Then with cold power surging through him like a heavy shot of adrenaline, Talion felt himself leap from the edge of the pavilion. Flipping through the air with surprising grace that did not feel like his own, the wind rushed through his cloak as he dropped with high speed, his heavy heart leaping high from the plummet...but feeling the wraith's confidence, Talion felt it boost his own...and landed with a heavy thud on the ground before the Uruks, which seemed to vibrate from his landing.
Startled the Uruks jumped back as Talion crouched before them. When he lifted his head, his narrowed eyes glowed like blue fire, frosty as the deadly winter. He could feel the breathing essence of the elf wraith taking control of his body...and he let it. As long as the fear in these monsters eyes remained at the very sight, as long as Talion was able to slaughter these filth and clear the fields for his wife and son's burial, and to find Elanor, the elf wraith can do with his body whatever he pleased.
They're mine, the little voice in his head hissed as he glared at the Uruks.
The lead Uruk seemed to recover first from the fright. "Ah, lookie here, boys! It's that lead Ranger from the gate! The one with the pup!"
They slowly walked toward him, unsheathing their lethal weapons.
"So, we missed you at Narchost, eh?" the Uruk growled. Then he smiled wickedly. "An easy mistake to fix!"
TBC
Uh-oh, beware the wrath of Talion!
So, nothing much happened in this chapter except a starting motion between three characters, but don't worry, the next chapter will have some action. Sorry.
After having watched "Snow White and the Huntsman," I feel a little more inspired for my OC character and her personality. She doesn't want to kill anyone, not even a hated orc, but of course she will be forced to. I just wanted to reveal some of her skills in climbing and sneaking.
She will still have to get out of the Black Gate...again. But this time she'll be armed.
Ioreth's (now Elanor's) Sunstar pendant was inspired by Arwen's Evenstar pendant, only its the shape of a skinny starfish made of pure gold with a diamond in the center. It's basically a golden Elanor flower pendant. It's also a hair clip:) You'll learn more about it soon.
Please review:)