Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings respectfully and rightfully
belongs to JRR Tolkien. I own my "language" and Naurglahad.
Author's Note:
Good... no people that are suggesting that they get in the way of my progress. I don't care if I get some minor facts screwed up. I work too hard (I don't have as much writing time anymore) to write this to deserve a flame... not that anyone ever gives me flames. Creative critique only, please.
And yes, Lirawen (hi! ^_^), this is a prequel to I Stand Alone. This is the first "volume". After this... I don't know if a newly written story should come up. I'll think about that later....
SET IT OFF!
"Master... I am frightened," whimpered Sam to Frodo, "I do not recall such a nightmare to be an event in our quest!"
"Neither do I, Sam," replied Frodo. He seemed to be trying to inwardly plot a way out of this mess.
When the Fellowship had woken into consciousness, they found themselves in a dirty rock chamber, bound all together by chains and cords; cords of thick, ,wiry threads. It was wrapped around each member in the absolute most complicated pattern imaginable. Little did they know that it was a knot titled The Tie of Force and Blood, for it was a traditional loop that would force the victim to bleed after a few hours. Boromir, who was the first to touch the rope spotted the links of his mail shirt begin to weaken. Some links were halfway through snapping, as others had chiseled through already, and was starting to cut the threads of his shirt.
"It is like mithril!" cried Gimli who had just attempted to wriggle out of his binds. The foul rope had scratched and dented his heavy plated dwarvish armor, causing him to gasp in utter horror, making even Legolas' emotionless face flinch with a dab of fear.
"The Ring!" Frodo gasped, suddenly noticing that the terrible band of gold was missing from his neck.
"Could it get any worse than this?" groaned Merry, his head drooping in despair.
Well, it could. At that moment, a young maiden came down a nearby corridor and kicked their cell door open in the most un-maiden-like way. She was surprisingly light, considering the fact that she lived in the middle of a barren desert, but she definitely wasn't fair pale. Acid eyes of green narrowed in a sinister way as she grinned a mouthful of deadly white teeth. Her hound teeth* shone out the most. Her limbs were slender, yet muscular, worked from lifting the blades she wielded, and from carrying the beings she slew. A brown leather tunic she wore alongside a belt with a few... painful looking sharp objects. She was singing some kind of marching song in a strange language.
"It is the tongue of Glaurung and Ancalagon!" exclaimed Legolas quietly in Elvish to Argorn who was bound behind him, "She is a demon!"
The lady, who looked not a day older than sixteen, snorted a laugh at the elf and his Quendi speech. Keeping her eyes on him, she said:
"Kaungh gad zurghasad Glaurung li Ancalagon?"
As she talked, her voice seemed unearthly low for a female and as rough as an orcish chant. Legolas was completely horrified, being addressed in the language of the beasts that had slaughtered not only elves, but dwarves and humans as well in the ancient time of Middle-earth. But, how could she know anything about Middle-earth?
The lady sighed and shook her head. Again she spoke, but this time in the Common Tongue.
"Never mind," her voice was young and immature, as are all teenagers, "Five hours to live and you pathetic idiots are so ignorant as to what shall become of your useless and worthless lives, don't you?"
Legolas felt the spark of challenge rise in his blood. Never had he been insulted by a mortal woman four times in the same sentence. To make his mark, he shot an unusually bitter glare. The lady seemed to have her own medicine and spat a disgusting blob of saliva at his feet. He grimaced.
"Well," she continued, "I've met you, you pointy eared fool. Who are the rest of you?"
None of the members of the Fellowship spoke, not even Pippin, who was the one who usually tended to blurt out information. He was cowering behind Boromir.
The lady sighed again.
"Silence... woo-hoo.... Do you speak Mortal Tongue?"
No responses.
"Well, I do!" she walked over to a nearby long wooden crate and dusted the soot off of it before she sat down on top of it, "My name is Nauraghlo-zaheliosikemadtu. Ridiculous name, isn't it? It was the cracked up Wise man's idea," she chuckled. Some of the Fellowships shoulders seem to relax a bit. Catching this minor , contract she continued speaking, "I am a desert rouge and a menace to society. Love'd to do business with you wonderful people some day.... Are you sure none of you speak Mortal
Aragorn shuddered and cleared his throat.
"We all speak the Common Tongue, if that is what you are referring to, miss, " he said finally. He seemed confident in what he was saying. Probably attempting to bring up the Fellowship's hopes a little more. Perhaps they could use her to get them out of their trap.
"Common Tongue..." she pondered aloud, "And just call me Naurglahad. It is a lot easier." she pulled the rest of herself up onto the box and lay there with her head resting on her crossed arms. She seemed to be amused with them. "Now... who the hell are you freaks and where did you come from?"
Aragorn's face faltered as he cleared his throat once more.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. These are my companions, my fellowship," he paused and looked at the group, who just stared back at him as if expecting him to say something Heir-of-Isildur-ish. "I shall let them introduce themselves... if you were to perhaps untie us."
"What?" Naurglahad laughed, shaking her head, "You are supposed to be my steak tonight! Why in the world would I release you?"
"Because they're innocent!" cried a voice from behind her.
Naurglahad's left eye twitched aggregately as she whipped around to see a hyper young lady with a finger struck up into the air as to make a point. And so was her intentions. It was Chaos-chan, a rather unusual name Naurglahad thought so, as... it seemed so cute and hippy-happy-hyper. Chaos-chan was not a Ryunarasu. No one seemed to know where she came from, not even the cracked up Wise man. She was dressed, again in what Naurglahad thought unusual, a dark grey tunic with another sparkly trinket dangling around her neck. Odd thing was that it seemed to tie in with the theme of what the Fellowship was wearing.
"...I don't care if they're innocent," retorted Naurglahad, swinging her legs up and off the crate, "You stay out of this!"
"Hey! I was invited to this dinner too!" Chaos-chan replied simply, "And I am not a cannibal!"
"...You want to drag the little ones around like dogs again, don't you?"
"The hobbits? Heavens, no!"
"Hobbits?"
"Or Halflings, if that is what you prefer!" piped up Pippin, suddenly coming out of his frightened trance.
"Aha!"
Suddenly, she whipped out a kunai**, a razor sharp throwing knife, and threw it like a ninja-star, directly at the hobbit's head. Pippin ducked just in time to avoid it. The tip of the kunai landed like a dart into a single gigantic knot in the center of their bindings. Smoothly, every cord wrapped around them slid loosely to their waists. She had released them.
"Speak!" Naurglahad commanded, aiming another kunai at Pippin's face, "What's your name, my little Halfling friend?"
"P-p-p," Pippin stuttered, "Peregrin Took!"
"And yours?" she swung her knife in an arch, pointing to all of them.
"Frodo Baggins."
"Samwise Gamgee."
"Meriadoc Brandybuck, but call me Merry."
"And I, Sam!"
"Nice to hear you, Frito, Sammy, Merril, and Parakeet!"
Sam opened his mouth to correct her, but Gandalf slapped his hand over the hobbit's mouth.
"I am Gandalf the Grey," he said pleasantly to cover up the odd movement. Yet, it seemed to be even more odd that he was in a pleasant tone.
"And Boromir, of Minas Tirith."
"She probably hasn't heard of the White City.... I am Gimli," he returned her raised eyebrow, "A dwarf."
Legolas remained silent. He did not trust this desert scum. She was completely rude to his companions, especially himself, and the Fellowship of the Ring was certainly not a title he felt should be mocked. He had a problem with not only her arrogant speech, but her un-likely leather tunic was simply atrocious. It seemed so wild and foreign to him. And her obvious taste for hurting others was not something to coop with. Those knives gleamed deadly sharp. A sixteen yeared menace to society she certainly was, and he refused to owe any allegiance to her. It didn't seem right.
"Please speak, Master Elf," pleaded Gimli from below him, "She could kill us."
"Legolas Greenleaf," he sighed reluctantly. Naurglahad shot a small smile at him, but it was more of an evil grin than a friendly gesture.
And many many years, both Naurglahad and Legolas clearly remembered their first meeting, for sparks shot between them... sparks of pure hatred and loathe for one another. Legolas had problems with her character, and Naurglahad just did not like him....
Period.
"Dude! You look like a girl with all that stupid long blonde hair!"
Attention all Anti-Legolas fans! Visit http://naheka.tripod.com/legolasviolentdeath for great bashing and trashing of the Mary-Sue Legoface!
*Hound teeth: aren't those the sharper front teeth in the mouth of a human being?
** Kunai- That is not part of my gibberish. I got it from Onimusha Warlords .
Translation:
Kaungh gad zurghasad, Glaurung li Ancalagon?
You know of my relatives, Glaurung and Ancalagon?
Author's Note:
Good... no people that are suggesting that they get in the way of my progress. I don't care if I get some minor facts screwed up. I work too hard (I don't have as much writing time anymore) to write this to deserve a flame... not that anyone ever gives me flames. Creative critique only, please.
And yes, Lirawen (hi! ^_^), this is a prequel to I Stand Alone. This is the first "volume". After this... I don't know if a newly written story should come up. I'll think about that later....
SET IT OFF!
"Master... I am frightened," whimpered Sam to Frodo, "I do not recall such a nightmare to be an event in our quest!"
"Neither do I, Sam," replied Frodo. He seemed to be trying to inwardly plot a way out of this mess.
When the Fellowship had woken into consciousness, they found themselves in a dirty rock chamber, bound all together by chains and cords; cords of thick, ,wiry threads. It was wrapped around each member in the absolute most complicated pattern imaginable. Little did they know that it was a knot titled The Tie of Force and Blood, for it was a traditional loop that would force the victim to bleed after a few hours. Boromir, who was the first to touch the rope spotted the links of his mail shirt begin to weaken. Some links were halfway through snapping, as others had chiseled through already, and was starting to cut the threads of his shirt.
"It is like mithril!" cried Gimli who had just attempted to wriggle out of his binds. The foul rope had scratched and dented his heavy plated dwarvish armor, causing him to gasp in utter horror, making even Legolas' emotionless face flinch with a dab of fear.
"The Ring!" Frodo gasped, suddenly noticing that the terrible band of gold was missing from his neck.
"Could it get any worse than this?" groaned Merry, his head drooping in despair.
Well, it could. At that moment, a young maiden came down a nearby corridor and kicked their cell door open in the most un-maiden-like way. She was surprisingly light, considering the fact that she lived in the middle of a barren desert, but she definitely wasn't fair pale. Acid eyes of green narrowed in a sinister way as she grinned a mouthful of deadly white teeth. Her hound teeth* shone out the most. Her limbs were slender, yet muscular, worked from lifting the blades she wielded, and from carrying the beings she slew. A brown leather tunic she wore alongside a belt with a few... painful looking sharp objects. She was singing some kind of marching song in a strange language.
"It is the tongue of Glaurung and Ancalagon!" exclaimed Legolas quietly in Elvish to Argorn who was bound behind him, "She is a demon!"
The lady, who looked not a day older than sixteen, snorted a laugh at the elf and his Quendi speech. Keeping her eyes on him, she said:
"Kaungh gad zurghasad Glaurung li Ancalagon?"
As she talked, her voice seemed unearthly low for a female and as rough as an orcish chant. Legolas was completely horrified, being addressed in the language of the beasts that had slaughtered not only elves, but dwarves and humans as well in the ancient time of Middle-earth. But, how could she know anything about Middle-earth?
The lady sighed and shook her head. Again she spoke, but this time in the Common Tongue.
"Never mind," her voice was young and immature, as are all teenagers, "Five hours to live and you pathetic idiots are so ignorant as to what shall become of your useless and worthless lives, don't you?"
Legolas felt the spark of challenge rise in his blood. Never had he been insulted by a mortal woman four times in the same sentence. To make his mark, he shot an unusually bitter glare. The lady seemed to have her own medicine and spat a disgusting blob of saliva at his feet. He grimaced.
"Well," she continued, "I've met you, you pointy eared fool. Who are the rest of you?"
None of the members of the Fellowship spoke, not even Pippin, who was the one who usually tended to blurt out information. He was cowering behind Boromir.
The lady sighed again.
"Silence... woo-hoo.... Do you speak Mortal Tongue?"
No responses.
"Well, I do!" she walked over to a nearby long wooden crate and dusted the soot off of it before she sat down on top of it, "My name is Nauraghlo-zaheliosikemadtu. Ridiculous name, isn't it? It was the cracked up Wise man's idea," she chuckled. Some of the Fellowships shoulders seem to relax a bit. Catching this minor , contract she continued speaking, "I am a desert rouge and a menace to society. Love'd to do business with you wonderful people some day.... Are you sure none of you speak Mortal
Aragorn shuddered and cleared his throat.
"We all speak the Common Tongue, if that is what you are referring to, miss, " he said finally. He seemed confident in what he was saying. Probably attempting to bring up the Fellowship's hopes a little more. Perhaps they could use her to get them out of their trap.
"Common Tongue..." she pondered aloud, "And just call me Naurglahad. It is a lot easier." she pulled the rest of herself up onto the box and lay there with her head resting on her crossed arms. She seemed to be amused with them. "Now... who the hell are you freaks and where did you come from?"
Aragorn's face faltered as he cleared his throat once more.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. These are my companions, my fellowship," he paused and looked at the group, who just stared back at him as if expecting him to say something Heir-of-Isildur-ish. "I shall let them introduce themselves... if you were to perhaps untie us."
"What?" Naurglahad laughed, shaking her head, "You are supposed to be my steak tonight! Why in the world would I release you?"
"Because they're innocent!" cried a voice from behind her.
Naurglahad's left eye twitched aggregately as she whipped around to see a hyper young lady with a finger struck up into the air as to make a point. And so was her intentions. It was Chaos-chan, a rather unusual name Naurglahad thought so, as... it seemed so cute and hippy-happy-hyper. Chaos-chan was not a Ryunarasu. No one seemed to know where she came from, not even the cracked up Wise man. She was dressed, again in what Naurglahad thought unusual, a dark grey tunic with another sparkly trinket dangling around her neck. Odd thing was that it seemed to tie in with the theme of what the Fellowship was wearing.
"...I don't care if they're innocent," retorted Naurglahad, swinging her legs up and off the crate, "You stay out of this!"
"Hey! I was invited to this dinner too!" Chaos-chan replied simply, "And I am not a cannibal!"
"...You want to drag the little ones around like dogs again, don't you?"
"The hobbits? Heavens, no!"
"Hobbits?"
"Or Halflings, if that is what you prefer!" piped up Pippin, suddenly coming out of his frightened trance.
"Aha!"
Suddenly, she whipped out a kunai**, a razor sharp throwing knife, and threw it like a ninja-star, directly at the hobbit's head. Pippin ducked just in time to avoid it. The tip of the kunai landed like a dart into a single gigantic knot in the center of their bindings. Smoothly, every cord wrapped around them slid loosely to their waists. She had released them.
"Speak!" Naurglahad commanded, aiming another kunai at Pippin's face, "What's your name, my little Halfling friend?"
"P-p-p," Pippin stuttered, "Peregrin Took!"
"And yours?" she swung her knife in an arch, pointing to all of them.
"Frodo Baggins."
"Samwise Gamgee."
"Meriadoc Brandybuck, but call me Merry."
"And I, Sam!"
"Nice to hear you, Frito, Sammy, Merril, and Parakeet!"
Sam opened his mouth to correct her, but Gandalf slapped his hand over the hobbit's mouth.
"I am Gandalf the Grey," he said pleasantly to cover up the odd movement. Yet, it seemed to be even more odd that he was in a pleasant tone.
"And Boromir, of Minas Tirith."
"She probably hasn't heard of the White City.... I am Gimli," he returned her raised eyebrow, "A dwarf."
Legolas remained silent. He did not trust this desert scum. She was completely rude to his companions, especially himself, and the Fellowship of the Ring was certainly not a title he felt should be mocked. He had a problem with not only her arrogant speech, but her un-likely leather tunic was simply atrocious. It seemed so wild and foreign to him. And her obvious taste for hurting others was not something to coop with. Those knives gleamed deadly sharp. A sixteen yeared menace to society she certainly was, and he refused to owe any allegiance to her. It didn't seem right.
"Please speak, Master Elf," pleaded Gimli from below him, "She could kill us."
"Legolas Greenleaf," he sighed reluctantly. Naurglahad shot a small smile at him, but it was more of an evil grin than a friendly gesture.
And many many years, both Naurglahad and Legolas clearly remembered their first meeting, for sparks shot between them... sparks of pure hatred and loathe for one another. Legolas had problems with her character, and Naurglahad just did not like him....
Period.
"Dude! You look like a girl with all that stupid long blonde hair!"
Attention all Anti-Legolas fans! Visit http://naheka.tripod.com/legolasviolentdeath for great bashing and trashing of the Mary-Sue Legoface!
*Hound teeth: aren't those the sharper front teeth in the mouth of a human being?
** Kunai- That is not part of my gibberish. I got it from Onimusha Warlords .
Translation:
Kaungh gad zurghasad, Glaurung li Ancalagon?
You know of my relatives, Glaurung and Ancalagon?