DISCLAMER: ready for the shock of the century? I own NOTHING!!!! And
personally I find having to do this silly and ridiculous as everyone KNOWS
that I don't own anything!!!!!!
*Pulls out Ithilien (a great writer on this site so go check out her stuff!)* Everyone, bow down to her greatness! For she has agreed to take on the tiring and ever stressful job of editing my work! THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!!!
THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT.
Darkness crept upon the land, a darkness that strangled the very light of the sun to the point that it could no longer be seen in the sky. As the dark snuck forth, stretching out like the hands of a hungry child, it devoured everything in its path. Trees fell, plants withered and people fled in fear. The stench of death hung heavily in the air as armies marched against each other in the last stand of the people against the approaching
evil.
An evil thought lost for years, one that had lain dormant in the very scrolls of time and history came forth. It was a power so strong that people had pushed it out of their minds, afraid of the thought of such a
menace.
And so it had stayed, hidden away in the deep shadows of the East, feared to the point of being almost forgotten. But not by all, some still remembered, not many, but enough to try and stop it if the Dark One ever came hither once more. Alas, what those few didn't know was that the very thing that would summon forth this power was already loose.
It had been thought destroyed or at least lost for all time, but it was not. For it was unhindered for thousands of years, and it was found.
It was once a thing of the light, the being that found it, but slowly, ever so slowly, its heart and head became corrupted and it slipped from the light without a second thought, without so much as a backwards glance.
As the darkness of its possession called to him, he became more and more foul, twisted in a way beyond all belief. And there they remained, the caller and the called, lost and forgotten in both time and space. The name Smaégol cast into the wind, Gollum on his twisted lips.
Until one day, one fateful day that would set the course of history, opening all possibilities for the evil and closing doors for the good. Thus leaving it up to both the living and the perished to decide, to set the path for each side to follow.
And as the Dark One's object changed bearers, the strings of the universe's fate was plucked, sending a deep and disturbing note throughout the binding song of the world. Yet all that was to happen, had only just began as the
source of power was to change keepers again, thus its call was once more sent to its Dark Lord, upon his throne in the shadows.
This time its call could not be refused and the Lord sent forth his riders. Nine riders, once men, in this world but not of it, neither living nor dead, to bring back the source of power.
It was here that the true change occurred in the world, for while not known to most, it did indeed change. It was then that four companions, as close as brothers, set out to save the fate of Middle-earth. Unlikely? Indeed they were, but their hearts were good and true, and reflected a light and innocence secondary only to the Elves.
Hope was high in their troubled hearts when they met a Ranger. But he was no mere Ranger. He was the true and rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. Aragorn.
He led them to the Elven City of Rivendell where a Fellowship was formed. "Nine walkers to match the nine riders." The Fellowship, two valiant men of Gondor, the Ranger included, a great and powerful wizard, the four hobbits, one noble elf and the brave dwarf. The Fellowship. The group was chosen to set out on a heroic quest - to destroy the power of the Dark Lord, the power of the ring, held by a young hobbit. And so it began, the quest of the fellowship of the ring, skilled as they were, yet not aware of the shadow of doom over them.
Alas, they soon became aware of their doom and their hopes did not last long, as one by one, slowly, they fell. Starting with the wizard, in a brave and courageous fight to the death, he fell into shadows. Next came the man of Gondor, corrupted by the call and beckoned to the dark power, and he too fell. And on that day, blood stained the ground red. It spilled forth creating a river that washed away their hopes and dreams, as well as they themselves.
The nine, once so proud, were scattered. Scattered upon the winds of the plains of dead, never to return. The hobbits, ring bearer included, were all slaughtered brutally. The men of Gondor fell at the hands of Orcs. The dwarf too was dead. His blood seeped into the ground, a stain that served as a reminder of what they once were.
All perished that day, all bar one. And in the darkness he was held, away from the sun that he so loved, twisted in pain and fear. Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood once strong and beautiful, noble and proud, now held by the very thing that he had fought against, the very thing that had sent his friends to the world after life, to the world of the dead.
He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. A darkness that could cloak the very rays of the sun. His body ached and his mind throbbed from some form of dark torment.
"I Anor!" Legolas moaned as sharp pains returned to his body, the reminders of previous tortures. "TÃrad i Anor, i daw menel a i elenath. TÃrad i aglar ned i taur, Mirkwood!" he cried out. He would give up or do anything to walk under the trees of his home, to see the stars that he loved so much. Alas, with each passing torture at the hands of his capturer, he slowly lost hope of ever seeing them again.
The things that kept him alive, kept him going were his memories, but even they could betray him. Although nothing could take away the memories of his friends, Legolas' torturer had tried many times, in hopes of breaking the elf's spirits. Yet it was to no prevail. His memories were the one thing that would remain true to him through this terror. Even in death, friends shall not be separated.
At this last thought, the door to his cell opened again, and a mixture of fear and pride filled his heart at the sight of his tormentor: Saruman.
*****
TBC
Well tell me what you think, this was written in English while glaring daggers into the back of the guy that sits in front of me! I hate him! If I get the reviews, then I shall continue. This story also saw my first attempt to write in Sindarin; the translations are as follows.... I think?
"The sun!" Legolas moaned as sharp pains returned to his body, the reminders of previous tortures. "To see the sun, the night sky and the stars. To see the glory of the forests, Mirkwood!"
I think that's what it says, at least that's what I hoped for, if I'm way off the mark and you have a way to justify your claims, please let me know via e-mail. Thanks a lot.
*Pulls out Ithilien (a great writer on this site so go check out her stuff!)* Everyone, bow down to her greatness! For she has agreed to take on the tiring and ever stressful job of editing my work! THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!!!
THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT.
Darkness crept upon the land, a darkness that strangled the very light of the sun to the point that it could no longer be seen in the sky. As the dark snuck forth, stretching out like the hands of a hungry child, it devoured everything in its path. Trees fell, plants withered and people fled in fear. The stench of death hung heavily in the air as armies marched against each other in the last stand of the people against the approaching
evil.
An evil thought lost for years, one that had lain dormant in the very scrolls of time and history came forth. It was a power so strong that people had pushed it out of their minds, afraid of the thought of such a
menace.
And so it had stayed, hidden away in the deep shadows of the East, feared to the point of being almost forgotten. But not by all, some still remembered, not many, but enough to try and stop it if the Dark One ever came hither once more. Alas, what those few didn't know was that the very thing that would summon forth this power was already loose.
It had been thought destroyed or at least lost for all time, but it was not. For it was unhindered for thousands of years, and it was found.
It was once a thing of the light, the being that found it, but slowly, ever so slowly, its heart and head became corrupted and it slipped from the light without a second thought, without so much as a backwards glance.
As the darkness of its possession called to him, he became more and more foul, twisted in a way beyond all belief. And there they remained, the caller and the called, lost and forgotten in both time and space. The name Smaégol cast into the wind, Gollum on his twisted lips.
Until one day, one fateful day that would set the course of history, opening all possibilities for the evil and closing doors for the good. Thus leaving it up to both the living and the perished to decide, to set the path for each side to follow.
And as the Dark One's object changed bearers, the strings of the universe's fate was plucked, sending a deep and disturbing note throughout the binding song of the world. Yet all that was to happen, had only just began as the
source of power was to change keepers again, thus its call was once more sent to its Dark Lord, upon his throne in the shadows.
This time its call could not be refused and the Lord sent forth his riders. Nine riders, once men, in this world but not of it, neither living nor dead, to bring back the source of power.
It was here that the true change occurred in the world, for while not known to most, it did indeed change. It was then that four companions, as close as brothers, set out to save the fate of Middle-earth. Unlikely? Indeed they were, but their hearts were good and true, and reflected a light and innocence secondary only to the Elves.
Hope was high in their troubled hearts when they met a Ranger. But he was no mere Ranger. He was the true and rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. Aragorn.
He led them to the Elven City of Rivendell where a Fellowship was formed. "Nine walkers to match the nine riders." The Fellowship, two valiant men of Gondor, the Ranger included, a great and powerful wizard, the four hobbits, one noble elf and the brave dwarf. The Fellowship. The group was chosen to set out on a heroic quest - to destroy the power of the Dark Lord, the power of the ring, held by a young hobbit. And so it began, the quest of the fellowship of the ring, skilled as they were, yet not aware of the shadow of doom over them.
Alas, they soon became aware of their doom and their hopes did not last long, as one by one, slowly, they fell. Starting with the wizard, in a brave and courageous fight to the death, he fell into shadows. Next came the man of Gondor, corrupted by the call and beckoned to the dark power, and he too fell. And on that day, blood stained the ground red. It spilled forth creating a river that washed away their hopes and dreams, as well as they themselves.
The nine, once so proud, were scattered. Scattered upon the winds of the plains of dead, never to return. The hobbits, ring bearer included, were all slaughtered brutally. The men of Gondor fell at the hands of Orcs. The dwarf too was dead. His blood seeped into the ground, a stain that served as a reminder of what they once were.
All perished that day, all bar one. And in the darkness he was held, away from the sun that he so loved, twisted in pain and fear. Legolas, the Elven prince of Mirkwood once strong and beautiful, noble and proud, now held by the very thing that he had fought against, the very thing that had sent his friends to the world after life, to the world of the dead.
He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. A darkness that could cloak the very rays of the sun. His body ached and his mind throbbed from some form of dark torment.
"I Anor!" Legolas moaned as sharp pains returned to his body, the reminders of previous tortures. "TÃrad i Anor, i daw menel a i elenath. TÃrad i aglar ned i taur, Mirkwood!" he cried out. He would give up or do anything to walk under the trees of his home, to see the stars that he loved so much. Alas, with each passing torture at the hands of his capturer, he slowly lost hope of ever seeing them again.
The things that kept him alive, kept him going were his memories, but even they could betray him. Although nothing could take away the memories of his friends, Legolas' torturer had tried many times, in hopes of breaking the elf's spirits. Yet it was to no prevail. His memories were the one thing that would remain true to him through this terror. Even in death, friends shall not be separated.
At this last thought, the door to his cell opened again, and a mixture of fear and pride filled his heart at the sight of his tormentor: Saruman.
*****
TBC
Well tell me what you think, this was written in English while glaring daggers into the back of the guy that sits in front of me! I hate him! If I get the reviews, then I shall continue. This story also saw my first attempt to write in Sindarin; the translations are as follows.... I think?
"The sun!" Legolas moaned as sharp pains returned to his body, the reminders of previous tortures. "To see the sun, the night sky and the stars. To see the glory of the forests, Mirkwood!"
I think that's what it says, at least that's what I hoped for, if I'm way off the mark and you have a way to justify your claims, please let me know via e-mail. Thanks a lot.
