I own nothing Lord Of the Rings, except the books, wi did not write, but Iimmensly enjoyed reading. THe only things that are mine are Elvaldur, Bazli, and my own ideas. Thank you, J.R.R. Tolekien :-)
Prologue: Many winters have passed since the glory days, fair-haired Hobbits, Sauron wiped from Middle-Earth. Those days have passed now. With man was intoxicated with freedom, Hobbits and Dwarves nearly wiped from Middle-Earth. Immense power was give to a boy...Roklem, Melkor....Morgoth..The one so evil Evles cannot see, even Men look down upon, the onto an Orc looks like a cousin, to a Uruk-hai, a brother. He resides in his mountain fortress of Armarth, Elvish for doom. And rightly so. You fear the horns of the fortress, for that means Death. But out of the inky blackness, there arises a hero. Elvaldur, the dark light, an Aelfborn. Man, but Elf. Magic tatooes cover him to keep him from going mad over the immense knowledge of the Elves. He is our last hope, an Aelfborn on the brink of madness...
Chapter 1
It has been many years since the Darkness came to us. Again. None remember the days of Sauron, servent of Morgoth, Melkor. None remember farther into the past, Of the first Elves, of the first Men. But I do. That is my duty towards Arwen, our Queen. It is my job to Remember...and to survive. None remember the fall of Sauron, he has erased it from our memories. Except one. Me. None remember the village boy Roklem, the blacksmith's apprentice, who saw the Royals unclothed. The boy who was there on accident, who had his eyes removed. None remember the boy, who became a man rotting in prison, rats eating the flesh where his eyes used to be. None remember the years passing as the boy talked to himself, thnking he was talking to Morgoth. None remember the boy undergoing a 'divine' transformation, recieving Morgoth into him daily. None remember the boy who escaped, a curious hole burned into the reinforced prison wall, leaving nothing but a foul smelling red liquid that burned your skin if you touched it. None remember the long-abandoned mountian fortress of Armath suddenly teeming with occupants, Orcs, Uruk-hai, and a new breed of Dread beast, not seen for hundreds of years: Balrogs, multiplied. None remember darkness sweeping the land, killing all plants. It is Night permanently. None remember scores of Hobbits and Dwarves suddenly gone. They only know Death, to fear the horns of Armath. None remember, except me.
Elvaldur stood on a mountain ridge in the far North- where the snow was still pristine, and daylight still shined through. He looked down at the now-black snow, examining it closely. The darkness was approaching the North. Hardly any know of the scores of Dwarves and Elves there, it is a secret that few know about, yet it shall not be a secret soon. Orcs have been sighted in the moutains, they can be heard at night, calling to each other as they climb the mountains. Elvaldur's raven-black hair flew out behind him; the wind had picked up. His widow's peak was visible as he pulled back his hair into a long ponytail, as he usually did. Most of his face was covered with intricate tatoos, like a Maori mask. They blackened his pristine, pale skin, keeping him inches from madness. Elvaldur was an Aelfborn, son of Elf and Man. He knew how to handle both both and sword, he was infintely wise, but infinetly mortal. It were these differneces between Man and Elf that would cause him to descend into madness if he did not have his tatoos. Elvaldur eventually moved on, slightly troubled by the black snow. He wasn't unaware of Morgoth, for he had forced him to move. Elvaldur was Legolas Greenleaf's half brother, abandoned as a child in the East with the barbarians. They had taught him to fight, they had given him tatoos. Mirkwood was his, he carried the Horn of Mirkwood, which, if blown by the heir, would draw all Races to war. He fingered the ancient carvings on the horn, not knowing what they meant; Elvaldur could not read Elvish, yet knew his name meant 'the dark light'. He mounted a pony, his feet almost touching the ground. Elvaldur headed down the mountain towards the small village, a sense of dread in his heart. He, as most did, knew that the Darkness would come soon.
Bazli sat in the village, tending the fire, a light layer of snow covering him. He looked at the ground as he recieved a vision, his violet eyes tearing up as he recieved it. He would not tell Elvaldur of what he saw, he never did. The 15 year old had seen Morgoth again, without the cloak, the red, catlike eyes coming from the darkness, the 'blessed' index finger makign acid out of stone. It was that digit that was the most feared finger in Middle-earth. The magical finger could reduce a stone wall into a vile smelling, acidic, red liquid. Not to mention what it could do to a human or Elf. Morgoth was quite short to be feared, skinny, his grey, mottled skin looking like mossy stone, ribs poking out. Morgoth never ate, nor slept. He was inhuman, a 5 foot tall demon. The thin layer of skin covered nothing, it seemed, every bone was visible, hardly any muscle. But who needs muscle when you have magic? Who needs muscle when you are at the command of all the ORcs, Uruk-hai, Balrogs, giants, trolls, and other Fell beasts?Bazli closed his eyes, drifitng off to welcome, yet unrestful sleep, as the Shadow crept over the land, turning snow black, giving Orcs a home....
Prologue: Many winters have passed since the glory days, fair-haired Hobbits, Sauron wiped from Middle-Earth. Those days have passed now. With man was intoxicated with freedom, Hobbits and Dwarves nearly wiped from Middle-Earth. Immense power was give to a boy...Roklem, Melkor....Morgoth..The one so evil Evles cannot see, even Men look down upon, the onto an Orc looks like a cousin, to a Uruk-hai, a brother. He resides in his mountain fortress of Armarth, Elvish for doom. And rightly so. You fear the horns of the fortress, for that means Death. But out of the inky blackness, there arises a hero. Elvaldur, the dark light, an Aelfborn. Man, but Elf. Magic tatooes cover him to keep him from going mad over the immense knowledge of the Elves. He is our last hope, an Aelfborn on the brink of madness...
Chapter 1
It has been many years since the Darkness came to us. Again. None remember the days of Sauron, servent of Morgoth, Melkor. None remember farther into the past, Of the first Elves, of the first Men. But I do. That is my duty towards Arwen, our Queen. It is my job to Remember...and to survive. None remember the fall of Sauron, he has erased it from our memories. Except one. Me. None remember the village boy Roklem, the blacksmith's apprentice, who saw the Royals unclothed. The boy who was there on accident, who had his eyes removed. None remember the boy, who became a man rotting in prison, rats eating the flesh where his eyes used to be. None remember the years passing as the boy talked to himself, thnking he was talking to Morgoth. None remember the boy undergoing a 'divine' transformation, recieving Morgoth into him daily. None remember the boy who escaped, a curious hole burned into the reinforced prison wall, leaving nothing but a foul smelling red liquid that burned your skin if you touched it. None remember the long-abandoned mountian fortress of Armath suddenly teeming with occupants, Orcs, Uruk-hai, and a new breed of Dread beast, not seen for hundreds of years: Balrogs, multiplied. None remember darkness sweeping the land, killing all plants. It is Night permanently. None remember scores of Hobbits and Dwarves suddenly gone. They only know Death, to fear the horns of Armath. None remember, except me.
Elvaldur stood on a mountain ridge in the far North- where the snow was still pristine, and daylight still shined through. He looked down at the now-black snow, examining it closely. The darkness was approaching the North. Hardly any know of the scores of Dwarves and Elves there, it is a secret that few know about, yet it shall not be a secret soon. Orcs have been sighted in the moutains, they can be heard at night, calling to each other as they climb the mountains. Elvaldur's raven-black hair flew out behind him; the wind had picked up. His widow's peak was visible as he pulled back his hair into a long ponytail, as he usually did. Most of his face was covered with intricate tatoos, like a Maori mask. They blackened his pristine, pale skin, keeping him inches from madness. Elvaldur was an Aelfborn, son of Elf and Man. He knew how to handle both both and sword, he was infintely wise, but infinetly mortal. It were these differneces between Man and Elf that would cause him to descend into madness if he did not have his tatoos. Elvaldur eventually moved on, slightly troubled by the black snow. He wasn't unaware of Morgoth, for he had forced him to move. Elvaldur was Legolas Greenleaf's half brother, abandoned as a child in the East with the barbarians. They had taught him to fight, they had given him tatoos. Mirkwood was his, he carried the Horn of Mirkwood, which, if blown by the heir, would draw all Races to war. He fingered the ancient carvings on the horn, not knowing what they meant; Elvaldur could not read Elvish, yet knew his name meant 'the dark light'. He mounted a pony, his feet almost touching the ground. Elvaldur headed down the mountain towards the small village, a sense of dread in his heart. He, as most did, knew that the Darkness would come soon.
Bazli sat in the village, tending the fire, a light layer of snow covering him. He looked at the ground as he recieved a vision, his violet eyes tearing up as he recieved it. He would not tell Elvaldur of what he saw, he never did. The 15 year old had seen Morgoth again, without the cloak, the red, catlike eyes coming from the darkness, the 'blessed' index finger makign acid out of stone. It was that digit that was the most feared finger in Middle-earth. The magical finger could reduce a stone wall into a vile smelling, acidic, red liquid. Not to mention what it could do to a human or Elf. Morgoth was quite short to be feared, skinny, his grey, mottled skin looking like mossy stone, ribs poking out. Morgoth never ate, nor slept. He was inhuman, a 5 foot tall demon. The thin layer of skin covered nothing, it seemed, every bone was visible, hardly any muscle. But who needs muscle when you have magic? Who needs muscle when you are at the command of all the ORcs, Uruk-hai, Balrogs, giants, trolls, and other Fell beasts?Bazli closed his eyes, drifitng off to welcome, yet unrestful sleep, as the Shadow crept over the land, turning snow black, giving Orcs a home....