Crazy. I reworked the story! Woohoo! Like I said before, this was my
first piece that I ever did for LOTR. I liked the story a lot so I went
back and reworked it. Only the first chapter has been changed, I will get
to the second chapter soon, no worries. I will then post the original
story, previously called Isildur's Heir as chapters 3 and 4. Thanks so
much for the feedback! I hope the reworking proves worthy. Thanks!
With every breath fiber of his being, he hated the one so aptly called the Heir of Isildur. Through the passage of time, there has been many that had walked the ground of Middle Earth that had borne the title of the heir. Sauron had not hated only Isildur, the meddling creature that had caused his most precious ring to be taken from him, nor had he only hated the woman that had bore Isildur a child, but all of the heirs that had followed. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.
Sauron's fiery eye penetrated the world as his dark thoughts turned to the vivid memory of the stories and prophecies that surrounded Elendil's line of kings. The fate of the Kings of men was interlaced with Isildur's Bane, the one ring. Sauron's entire evil existence easily shuddered in anticipation of merely touching that ring, that ring that was so unfortunately tied to Isildur's Heir by fate of the ages. That cursed heir would no doubt attempt to right the failure that his forefather had so deftly created. Sauron's raking gaze swept across Middle Earth again, searching for the elusive source of Sauron's discomfort. The question remained - was there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook his dark and foreboding palace. Of course there was.
The Nazgul, the dark former kings had thus far been faithful servants to their dark master. Their job had been done well when Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, the most important task being that they destroy the line of Isildur. He had not wanted to deal with the dangerous heir that prophecy said would come to guide all of Gondor. To do that, the heir would have to destroy the ring and Sauron himself. Sauron had always thought that the ringwraiths were fearless, neither living nor dead, but he had found that even they feared the heir of Isildur. Despite the fear, they remained true to their tasks and killed each heir that had been born. It was an unguarded moment when Sauron discovered the source of their fear.
The Nazgul spoke of strong, lithe young men, bound with a strange and special strength. Each sword they bore seemed to be enchanted and each swordsman swung that same sword with skill and confidence. Even these attributes the Nazgul would look past, but there was something more that frightened them. For some time, Sauron could only believe that the fear was an unrealistic cover for the fact that the Nazgul had doubt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. His point of view changed abruptly one day when he had heard them speak with shudders about the heir of death that was about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul had remarked with cold shivers that the depth and strength that were in those eyes was something cursed. Sauron easily remembered that they had said each heir had the same eyes, eyes that taunted and portrayed the threat of destruction. Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. What did he fear? Was it a truth that an heir did indeed live?
With fleeting thoughts, Sauron remembered the line of Isildur. The Nazgul had been successful in destroying each and every heir thus far. There had certainly been moments when the battle against it had looked hopeless, but then there were moments when it seemed hardly to matter. Sauron was frustrated with the mere truth that while it seemed that the Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and to protect those children from being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the Wraiths and carried their children to safety where they were to be raised, often in secret until they were old enough. It took great time to locate a now grown heir, which caused Sauron more anger. It had seemed such a relief when the Nazgul had discovered Arathorn the last known heir, and Sauron stopped to believe that he had won.
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilraen, however, for the longest time, it was certainly believed she had not borne Arathorn a son. Arathorn had been a Ranger in the North and was rarely with his wife. They had not been married all that long when the Nazgul had come upon Arathorn and had set orcs upon him. The orcs had killed Arathorn and his companions in a small blood bath. The Nazgul had then meant to destroy Gilraen, but she was faster than they and fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half elven of Imladris, and his twin sons Elrohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron then that Gilraen had left empty handed, with no child and Sauron easily let himself believe that at last he was rid of his greatest enemy.
Time passed quickly for Sauron and he did not give another thought to the demise of the line of Isildur until the moment when he thought he might have been wrong. Nearly twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had seen Arathorn slain, but there was a strange day that spoke of ill tidings. He was still gathering darkness about him in that time, his confidence ever growing. It was shaken in one brief moment. Sauron had dared to reach out even around the strongholds of the elves and he searched about Imladris. During this time, the day came when he found himself drawing back momentarily as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron was not aquatinted with, surely not an elf - and this thing nearly blinded him. It was an unetheral light and it disturbed Sauron for some time, but this too passed from his mind and he never remembered the heir of Isildur. However, the lack of memory would not last forever. Sauron reflected on this bitterly, wondering how he so easily looked over the signs. Indeed, there had been many signs that he had merely dismissed. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated an strangely strong Ranger who had come into leadership out of nowhere and roamed where he pleased, spending too much time in the company of the wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious yet was the fact that absolutely none of his informants could tell us where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in the affairs of Middle Earth when he had come to the age of twenty. Looking back on it, some sort of warning should have come before Sauron when he had learned of this curious, yet elusive Ranger, who spoke elvish, used elven swords, and moved in the ways of an elf.
When Sauron started searching more diligently for the ring, he felt some kind of deep foreboding and in rare moments he had flashes of the image of the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Sauron would shake the thought away, reminding himself that that the sword was broken and would remain that way. Doubt then crept in, especially when Boromir, the son of Denethor who was steward of Gondor and sat on her throne, set out to answer a riddle or a poem of sorts. Sauron's spies brought him news of this poem and the words were chilling.
Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Mogul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halflings forth shall stand.
The poem was enough to inspire Sauron to redouble the effort to find the ring and he sent searchers to find where the broken sword truly had disappeared to. The report was dark for Sauron - the sword did indeed lay in Imladris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would wield a broken sword? Sauron knew there was only one answer, the true heir of Isildur who would try to destroy what Sauron had built. Still, Sauron did not want to believe that an heir possibly could have survived, at least not until he had proof.
Finally, the ring came to it's master's attention, and Sauron found that it was being carried by a halfling - a hobbit. The Nazgul left to intercept the small creature and its companions, but Sauron was disturbed when they disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring called for him from the top of Weathertop within a short time and the Nazgul were there to do the bidding of their master. Sauron waited eagerly, feeling that he was about to have back what was most precious to him. The Nazgul returned empty handed, having been beat and torn with quite a tale that disturbed the dark lord. The Nazgul pitifully told that they had indeed wounded the hobbit that had been carrying the ring, but what came next was something that created great fear in the dark wraiths. His anger flared, and he demanded to know why they had failed, but their answer was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes with no compassion. He might have destroyed them and they were afraid. Apparently he had set fire tot hem. Sauron was bitter and did not want to believe what his trusted servants told him. Could the heir of Isildur truly be alive? He questioned them to observe if they were certain. Their reply was cold and they affirmed that they were sure, but beyond having seen the eyes, they had no other proof.
Sauron's anger burned, disbelieving that not only had the ring slipped away, but also a possible heir had passed far below his notice. He dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at any cost and if the dark Ranger got in the way, they were to kill him, heir or not. His fury grew as the cursed Ranger distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a tenacious she- elf. The Nazgul had given chase, but the troublesome she-elf had used the magic of her people against them. Sauron had an ill feeling that she yet had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell, out of Sauron's reach. The evil lord's mood continued to deteriorate when Sauraman the White, a sadly corrupted wizard sent a message bearing a song with ill words to Baradur. The song had been carried all the way from the borders of Rivendell where it seemed to float on the breeze, sung by Bilbo Baggins. Sauron's orcs cowered in misery as Sauron's anger once again shook the palace. The song was simple, but it bode ill for Sauron and his beloved ring.
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes of fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows will spring; Renewed shall be the blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.
The Ranger! Not all those who wander are lost! The heir of Isildur had been right under Sauron's notice the entire time. Knowing now that the Heir of Isildur lived, Sauron vowed to kill him and have his ring back. Even with those brave words, Sauron newly felt empty and unsure as he hadn't felt in some time.
With every breath fiber of his being, he hated the one so aptly called the Heir of Isildur. Through the passage of time, there has been many that had walked the ground of Middle Earth that had borne the title of the heir. Sauron had not hated only Isildur, the meddling creature that had caused his most precious ring to be taken from him, nor had he only hated the woman that had bore Isildur a child, but all of the heirs that had followed. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.
Sauron's fiery eye penetrated the world as his dark thoughts turned to the vivid memory of the stories and prophecies that surrounded Elendil's line of kings. The fate of the Kings of men was interlaced with Isildur's Bane, the one ring. Sauron's entire evil existence easily shuddered in anticipation of merely touching that ring, that ring that was so unfortunately tied to Isildur's Heir by fate of the ages. That cursed heir would no doubt attempt to right the failure that his forefather had so deftly created. Sauron's raking gaze swept across Middle Earth again, searching for the elusive source of Sauron's discomfort. The question remained - was there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook his dark and foreboding palace. Of course there was.
The Nazgul, the dark former kings had thus far been faithful servants to their dark master. Their job had been done well when Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, the most important task being that they destroy the line of Isildur. He had not wanted to deal with the dangerous heir that prophecy said would come to guide all of Gondor. To do that, the heir would have to destroy the ring and Sauron himself. Sauron had always thought that the ringwraiths were fearless, neither living nor dead, but he had found that even they feared the heir of Isildur. Despite the fear, they remained true to their tasks and killed each heir that had been born. It was an unguarded moment when Sauron discovered the source of their fear.
The Nazgul spoke of strong, lithe young men, bound with a strange and special strength. Each sword they bore seemed to be enchanted and each swordsman swung that same sword with skill and confidence. Even these attributes the Nazgul would look past, but there was something more that frightened them. For some time, Sauron could only believe that the fear was an unrealistic cover for the fact that the Nazgul had doubt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. His point of view changed abruptly one day when he had heard them speak with shudders about the heir of death that was about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul had remarked with cold shivers that the depth and strength that were in those eyes was something cursed. Sauron easily remembered that they had said each heir had the same eyes, eyes that taunted and portrayed the threat of destruction. Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. What did he fear? Was it a truth that an heir did indeed live?
With fleeting thoughts, Sauron remembered the line of Isildur. The Nazgul had been successful in destroying each and every heir thus far. There had certainly been moments when the battle against it had looked hopeless, but then there were moments when it seemed hardly to matter. Sauron was frustrated with the mere truth that while it seemed that the Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and to protect those children from being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the Wraiths and carried their children to safety where they were to be raised, often in secret until they were old enough. It took great time to locate a now grown heir, which caused Sauron more anger. It had seemed such a relief when the Nazgul had discovered Arathorn the last known heir, and Sauron stopped to believe that he had won.
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilraen, however, for the longest time, it was certainly believed she had not borne Arathorn a son. Arathorn had been a Ranger in the North and was rarely with his wife. They had not been married all that long when the Nazgul had come upon Arathorn and had set orcs upon him. The orcs had killed Arathorn and his companions in a small blood bath. The Nazgul had then meant to destroy Gilraen, but she was faster than they and fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half elven of Imladris, and his twin sons Elrohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron then that Gilraen had left empty handed, with no child and Sauron easily let himself believe that at last he was rid of his greatest enemy.
Time passed quickly for Sauron and he did not give another thought to the demise of the line of Isildur until the moment when he thought he might have been wrong. Nearly twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had seen Arathorn slain, but there was a strange day that spoke of ill tidings. He was still gathering darkness about him in that time, his confidence ever growing. It was shaken in one brief moment. Sauron had dared to reach out even around the strongholds of the elves and he searched about Imladris. During this time, the day came when he found himself drawing back momentarily as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron was not aquatinted with, surely not an elf - and this thing nearly blinded him. It was an unetheral light and it disturbed Sauron for some time, but this too passed from his mind and he never remembered the heir of Isildur. However, the lack of memory would not last forever. Sauron reflected on this bitterly, wondering how he so easily looked over the signs. Indeed, there had been many signs that he had merely dismissed. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated an strangely strong Ranger who had come into leadership out of nowhere and roamed where he pleased, spending too much time in the company of the wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious yet was the fact that absolutely none of his informants could tell us where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in the affairs of Middle Earth when he had come to the age of twenty. Looking back on it, some sort of warning should have come before Sauron when he had learned of this curious, yet elusive Ranger, who spoke elvish, used elven swords, and moved in the ways of an elf.
When Sauron started searching more diligently for the ring, he felt some kind of deep foreboding and in rare moments he had flashes of the image of the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Sauron would shake the thought away, reminding himself that that the sword was broken and would remain that way. Doubt then crept in, especially when Boromir, the son of Denethor who was steward of Gondor and sat on her throne, set out to answer a riddle or a poem of sorts. Sauron's spies brought him news of this poem and the words were chilling.
Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Mogul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halflings forth shall stand.
The poem was enough to inspire Sauron to redouble the effort to find the ring and he sent searchers to find where the broken sword truly had disappeared to. The report was dark for Sauron - the sword did indeed lay in Imladris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would wield a broken sword? Sauron knew there was only one answer, the true heir of Isildur who would try to destroy what Sauron had built. Still, Sauron did not want to believe that an heir possibly could have survived, at least not until he had proof.
Finally, the ring came to it's master's attention, and Sauron found that it was being carried by a halfling - a hobbit. The Nazgul left to intercept the small creature and its companions, but Sauron was disturbed when they disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring called for him from the top of Weathertop within a short time and the Nazgul were there to do the bidding of their master. Sauron waited eagerly, feeling that he was about to have back what was most precious to him. The Nazgul returned empty handed, having been beat and torn with quite a tale that disturbed the dark lord. The Nazgul pitifully told that they had indeed wounded the hobbit that had been carrying the ring, but what came next was something that created great fear in the dark wraiths. His anger flared, and he demanded to know why they had failed, but their answer was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes with no compassion. He might have destroyed them and they were afraid. Apparently he had set fire tot hem. Sauron was bitter and did not want to believe what his trusted servants told him. Could the heir of Isildur truly be alive? He questioned them to observe if they were certain. Their reply was cold and they affirmed that they were sure, but beyond having seen the eyes, they had no other proof.
Sauron's anger burned, disbelieving that not only had the ring slipped away, but also a possible heir had passed far below his notice. He dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at any cost and if the dark Ranger got in the way, they were to kill him, heir or not. His fury grew as the cursed Ranger distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a tenacious she- elf. The Nazgul had given chase, but the troublesome she-elf had used the magic of her people against them. Sauron had an ill feeling that she yet had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell, out of Sauron's reach. The evil lord's mood continued to deteriorate when Sauraman the White, a sadly corrupted wizard sent a message bearing a song with ill words to Baradur. The song had been carried all the way from the borders of Rivendell where it seemed to float on the breeze, sung by Bilbo Baggins. Sauron's orcs cowered in misery as Sauron's anger once again shook the palace. The song was simple, but it bode ill for Sauron and his beloved ring.
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes of fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows will spring; Renewed shall be the blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.
The Ranger! Not all those who wander are lost! The heir of Isildur had been right under Sauron's notice the entire time. Knowing now that the Heir of Isildur lived, Sauron vowed to kill him and have his ring back. Even with those brave words, Sauron newly felt empty and unsure as he hadn't felt in some time.