Increscunt animi, visrescit volnere virtus
(The spirit grows, strength is restored by wounding)
5 years later..
The Ring of Power was found.
Like a fin in deep blue water, Sauron was coming towards Middle Earth, slowly moving in, pushing aside the ocean to do it.
All that was good, just and fair stood at the brink of destruction. All that was evil, unjust and wicked was ready for a final leap for air from the abyss it had been sent to.
And yet, it was the familiar repetition of history. Like many many times before and like countless times afterwards, the creatures of this world had turned restless and against each other. They had grown suspicious, sly and cruel. The great kingdoms of men where the just served had fallen and where once the symbols of grandeur stood, there were now only moss covered broken walls, solitary and spent. The elves were leaving Middle Earth, sailing towards the Undying Lands. Their virtue was not welcome or needed anymore in a world that had turned bitter. And even though many had not left yet, their names were swiftly vanishing from history and mind alike....... they were becoming fabled creatures and their deeds were fading from lips and heart.
There is only one thing that can reunite a broken world - the fear of a hammer.
When the threat of Sauron took roots in the hearts of the beings in Middle Earth, they finally forgot their differences and their fights and once again -though unknowingly so- united against the shadow to bring back the light. A threat on the lives of all had animated once again the past and forgotten bonds.
It was a time to remember, for these are the times that crack the thick outer shell of heroes and make them draw breath. A hero is like any other man. He or she can walk by you on the street, sit next to you for a drink and you would never notice. There is absolutely no difference between the hero and the worthless man that can be detected by eye alone. Many heroes have vices while many worthless men live a life of virtue. Neither know their value or their insignificance. Neither care to know. Both are like cocoon creatures - sleeping, waiting, hoping to be awakened from this deep slumber. And it is in the face of such times a cocoon is ripped and a worthless man perishes with the assault of light while the hero arises and spreads his wings.
Though they did not know it themselves yet, heroes were arising in Middle Earth and following their own individual paths, which crisscrossed and parted, met and divided. Some crossed once and were never seen crossing again, while others met here and there continuously, constantly overlapping. Some were straight and short while others were drawing circles and immensely long ribbons around Middle-Earth. Some always traveled together while others never liked the company and forever remained solitary. In whatever way or shape, these paths flowed in and out of each other, changing and shaping the history of Middle Earth constantly. Rivendell, the House of Elrond, was such a meeting point of paths.
(The spirit grows, strength is restored by wounding)
5 years later..
The Ring of Power was found.
Like a fin in deep blue water, Sauron was coming towards Middle Earth, slowly moving in, pushing aside the ocean to do it.
All that was good, just and fair stood at the brink of destruction. All that was evil, unjust and wicked was ready for a final leap for air from the abyss it had been sent to.
And yet, it was the familiar repetition of history. Like many many times before and like countless times afterwards, the creatures of this world had turned restless and against each other. They had grown suspicious, sly and cruel. The great kingdoms of men where the just served had fallen and where once the symbols of grandeur stood, there were now only moss covered broken walls, solitary and spent. The elves were leaving Middle Earth, sailing towards the Undying Lands. Their virtue was not welcome or needed anymore in a world that had turned bitter. And even though many had not left yet, their names were swiftly vanishing from history and mind alike....... they were becoming fabled creatures and their deeds were fading from lips and heart.
There is only one thing that can reunite a broken world - the fear of a hammer.
When the threat of Sauron took roots in the hearts of the beings in Middle Earth, they finally forgot their differences and their fights and once again -though unknowingly so- united against the shadow to bring back the light. A threat on the lives of all had animated once again the past and forgotten bonds.
It was a time to remember, for these are the times that crack the thick outer shell of heroes and make them draw breath. A hero is like any other man. He or she can walk by you on the street, sit next to you for a drink and you would never notice. There is absolutely no difference between the hero and the worthless man that can be detected by eye alone. Many heroes have vices while many worthless men live a life of virtue. Neither know their value or their insignificance. Neither care to know. Both are like cocoon creatures - sleeping, waiting, hoping to be awakened from this deep slumber. And it is in the face of such times a cocoon is ripped and a worthless man perishes with the assault of light while the hero arises and spreads his wings.
Though they did not know it themselves yet, heroes were arising in Middle Earth and following their own individual paths, which crisscrossed and parted, met and divided. Some crossed once and were never seen crossing again, while others met here and there continuously, constantly overlapping. Some were straight and short while others were drawing circles and immensely long ribbons around Middle-Earth. Some always traveled together while others never liked the company and forever remained solitary. In whatever way or shape, these paths flowed in and out of each other, changing and shaping the history of Middle Earth constantly. Rivendell, the House of Elrond, was such a meeting point of paths.