This was the first fanfic I ever wrote for LOTR and it got lost on ff.net.
I decided to repost it...I would love some feedback, just to see if it
makes any sense. Hope its enjoyable!
I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Tolkien and Jackson. The second chapter will have a mix of the books and the movies if that clears anything up.
I would love some feedback, thanks!
He hated the one called the Heir of Isildur with every fiber of what he was. Through time, since Isildur's death, many of his heirs had walked through Middle Earth. Sauron had not hated just Isildur, or the child his wife bore, but all of the heirs. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.
Sauron's eye penetrated the world as his thoughts turned dark with memories of the stories and prophecies that belonged to Elendil's line of kings. Isildur's Bane, the ring. Sauron's existence shuddered in anticipation of that ring.that ring was tied to Isildur's Heir by fate. That cursed heir would try to right the failure his forefathers had created. Sauron continued to rake Middle Earth with a fiery gaze. But is there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook the dark palace. Of course there is.
The Nazgul were his faithful servants and had done their jobs well. Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, one of the more important being the task of destroying the line of heirs. He had always supposed them fearless, for they were wraiths, neither living nor dead, but he found that they feared every single heir of Isildur. The sill remained true to their tasks and killed each heir. In unguarded moments, Sauron discovered the source of their fear and he found himself surprised.
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. However, this was not what scared the wraiths the most. For some time, Sauron believed that the fear was just a false covering for the doubt the Nazgul felt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. Sauron decided he was wrong though, for on one occasion he heard them speak with shudders and an air of death about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul shuddered at the depths and strength the eyes held. They said that each hair has the same eyes, eyes that taunt and portray the threat of destruction.my destruction! Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. But what do I fear? Is it for sure? Is he the heir?
Sauron thought back along the lines of Isildur. The Nazgul had been fairly successful in destroying the heirs thus far. There were moments that it had looked hopeless, and moments when they were of no concern to Sauron. What frustrated Sauron was despite the fact that each Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and protect those children form being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the wraiths and carried their children to be raised, often in secret until a certain age. It took great time to locate a now grown heir. This greatly angered Sauron, but when his Nazgul had come upon Arathorn, the last known heir, Sauron finally believed that he had won.
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilrain, 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 killed him. They also meant to destroy Gilrain, but she fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half-elven, and his twin sons Elohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron that Gilrain had not left with a child and Sauron thought that at last he was rid of his greatest fear.
However, Sauron found out that he might have been worn, and just the memory caused Sauron another growl. Almost twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had slain Arathorn and Sauron would not forget that time. He was still gathering darkness bout him at that time, his confidence clear and strong. This was shaken in a brief moment. While gathering dark things about himself, Sauron even reached out around the strongholds of the elves. As Sauron searched about Imladris, he withdrew as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron had no idea what exactly what it was, surely not an elf - nearly blinded him. This disturbed Sauron at first, but it later passed from his mind and once again he forgot about the Heir of Isildur. This was not to last forever, Sauron reflected bitterly. How I could have overlooked the signs is beyond me. Indeed, there had been signs. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated and strong Ranger who had come into leadership and roamed all over Middle Earth, spending much time in the company of the Wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious was the fact that no one knew where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in affairs when he had come to be twenty years old. Some sort of warning should have sounded within Sauron when he had learned that this curious yet elusive Ranger spoke elvish, used an elvish sword, and moved in the ways of an elf.
When Sauron stepped up his search for the ring, he had felt a dark and deep foreboding and there were moments when he could picture the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from his own hand. The sword is broken.hissed Sauron's voice in his mind. However, Sauron began to doubt. A dark fear crept into Sauron's mind when Boromir, son of Denethor of the throne of Gondor, set out to answer a certain riddle. Sauron's spies brought him news of the riddle, a poem of sorts.
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 caused Sauron to redouble his search for the rin and to send our searchers to find where the broken sword was. The report was dark - the sword lay in Imadris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would weild the sword? Sauron knew the answer: only the Heir of Isildur. Still, Sauron refused to believe there was an Heir, not until he had proof.
The ring soon captured Sauron's attention, it was being carried by a hobbit. The Nazgul were sent out and Sauron became more disturbed when the hobbits merely disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring screamed to him from Weathertop and the Nazgul moved in. Sauron waited for news. His Nazgul returned empty handed, being beat and torn. They reported their successful wounding of the hobbit, but Sauron could plainly see how they shook in some fear. He was angry as to why they had not returned with the ring. Their reply was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes. He might have destroyed them, and they were afraid. Sauron was bitter. Was it truly the Heir of Isildur? Are you positive? They were, but could not really tell Sauron why, except they had seen the eyes.
Angry about them letting the ring slip away and news of a possible Heir that had passed below his notice, Sauron dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at all costs and if the dark stranger got in the way, they were to kill him, Heir of not. Sauron's anger grew when the stranger, that cursed Ranger, distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a she-elf. The wraiths had given chase, but the she-elf had used her magic against them. Sauron had a terrible feeling she had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell. Sauron's mood continued to flare with anger when Sauraman the White, the sadly corrupted wizard sent a messenger bearing an ill song. The son 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! He was right under my nose the whole time! So the Heir of Isildur lives. I will kill him and I will have my ring back. But, despite those brave words, Sauron felt empty and shaken.
I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Tolkien and Jackson. The second chapter will have a mix of the books and the movies if that clears anything up.
I would love some feedback, thanks!
He hated the one called the Heir of Isildur with every fiber of what he was. Through time, since Isildur's death, many of his heirs had walked through Middle Earth. Sauron had not hated just Isildur, or the child his wife bore, but all of the heirs. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.
Sauron's eye penetrated the world as his thoughts turned dark with memories of the stories and prophecies that belonged to Elendil's line of kings. Isildur's Bane, the ring. Sauron's existence shuddered in anticipation of that ring.that ring was tied to Isildur's Heir by fate. That cursed heir would try to right the failure his forefathers had created. Sauron continued to rake Middle Earth with a fiery gaze. But is there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook the dark palace. Of course there is.
The Nazgul were his faithful servants and had done their jobs well. Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, one of the more important being the task of destroying the line of heirs. He had always supposed them fearless, for they were wraiths, neither living nor dead, but he found that they feared every single heir of Isildur. The sill remained true to their tasks and killed each heir. In unguarded moments, Sauron discovered the source of their fear and he found himself surprised.
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. However, this was not what scared the wraiths the most. For some time, Sauron believed that the fear was just a false covering for the doubt the Nazgul felt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. Sauron decided he was wrong though, for on one occasion he heard them speak with shudders and an air of death about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul shuddered at the depths and strength the eyes held. They said that each hair has the same eyes, eyes that taunt and portray the threat of destruction.my destruction! Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. But what do I fear? Is it for sure? Is he the heir?
Sauron thought back along the lines of Isildur. The Nazgul had been fairly successful in destroying the heirs thus far. There were moments that it had looked hopeless, and moments when they were of no concern to Sauron. What frustrated Sauron was despite the fact that each Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and protect those children form being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the wraiths and carried their children to be raised, often in secret until a certain age. It took great time to locate a now grown heir. This greatly angered Sauron, but when his Nazgul had come upon Arathorn, the last known heir, Sauron finally believed that he had won.
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilrain, 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 killed him. They also meant to destroy Gilrain, but she fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half-elven, and his twin sons Elohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron that Gilrain had not left with a child and Sauron thought that at last he was rid of his greatest fear.
However, Sauron found out that he might have been worn, and just the memory caused Sauron another growl. Almost twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had slain Arathorn and Sauron would not forget that time. He was still gathering darkness bout him at that time, his confidence clear and strong. This was shaken in a brief moment. While gathering dark things about himself, Sauron even reached out around the strongholds of the elves. As Sauron searched about Imladris, he withdrew as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron had no idea what exactly what it was, surely not an elf - nearly blinded him. This disturbed Sauron at first, but it later passed from his mind and once again he forgot about the Heir of Isildur. This was not to last forever, Sauron reflected bitterly. How I could have overlooked the signs is beyond me. Indeed, there had been signs. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated and strong Ranger who had come into leadership and roamed all over Middle Earth, spending much time in the company of the Wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious was the fact that no one knew where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in affairs when he had come to be twenty years old. Some sort of warning should have sounded within Sauron when he had learned that this curious yet elusive Ranger spoke elvish, used an elvish sword, and moved in the ways of an elf.
When Sauron stepped up his search for the ring, he had felt a dark and deep foreboding and there were moments when he could picture the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from his own hand. The sword is broken.hissed Sauron's voice in his mind. However, Sauron began to doubt. A dark fear crept into Sauron's mind when Boromir, son of Denethor of the throne of Gondor, set out to answer a certain riddle. Sauron's spies brought him news of the riddle, a poem of sorts.
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 caused Sauron to redouble his search for the rin and to send our searchers to find where the broken sword was. The report was dark - the sword lay in Imadris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would weild the sword? Sauron knew the answer: only the Heir of Isildur. Still, Sauron refused to believe there was an Heir, not until he had proof.
The ring soon captured Sauron's attention, it was being carried by a hobbit. The Nazgul were sent out and Sauron became more disturbed when the hobbits merely disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring screamed to him from Weathertop and the Nazgul moved in. Sauron waited for news. His Nazgul returned empty handed, being beat and torn. They reported their successful wounding of the hobbit, but Sauron could plainly see how they shook in some fear. He was angry as to why they had not returned with the ring. Their reply was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes. He might have destroyed them, and they were afraid. Sauron was bitter. Was it truly the Heir of Isildur? Are you positive? They were, but could not really tell Sauron why, except they had seen the eyes.
Angry about them letting the ring slip away and news of a possible Heir that had passed below his notice, Sauron dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at all costs and if the dark stranger got in the way, they were to kill him, Heir of not. Sauron's anger grew when the stranger, that cursed Ranger, distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a she-elf. The wraiths had given chase, but the she-elf had used her magic against them. Sauron had a terrible feeling she had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell. Sauron's mood continued to flare with anger when Sauraman the White, the sadly corrupted wizard sent a messenger bearing an ill song. The son 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! He was right under my nose the whole time! So the Heir of Isildur lives. I will kill him and I will have my ring back. But, despite those brave words, Sauron felt empty and shaken.