The line of Elves
Summary: An Ancestor of Legolas will have to save middle earth as a new threat rises. (Set in 2003) (All new characters)
Chapter one ~ Amras Mithrandír
~ As the years went on things changed. Men became more to themselves, more violent, angrier with everyone who wasn't mankind. Elves started to adapt the way of living as a normal person. The danger of being killed by men rose for us, Elves.
By the 21st century, middle earth was like the rest of the world, we had electricity, Discman's, refrigerators and computers and you'd sometimes see a man with a car. Quickly Middle Earth began to forget who we truly were. Fighters, horse riders, swords men, survivors. None of us thought that we would be reminded by the forces of darkness~
Amras brushed his horse's mane as he listened to his little sister sing along to some music. He tried to think of what it would've been like in the days when his great-great (Etc) grandfather was around. Thanks to Legolas and the fellowship, middle earth had been saved. But unfortunately, Legolas had died in a battle over two opposing towns. Many of his fellow elves pushed Amras to be as good as Legolas. But it was impossible.
Amras couldn't fight, he wasn't brave and basically the only thing he could do was ride his horse, Itarildë. Amras rested his head on the jet-black hair of the Friesian's back. His attention was diverted when possibly the most beautiful of all elves walked past, Larien Calafalas.
He had daydreamed so many times of them together, but never had the guts to talk to her. And besides, Larien was already dating someone, Valandil Carnesîr, who was a warrior and 20, three years older, then Amras and Larien.
"Amras, father needs to talk to you" His sister called out. His sister was 16 and named Lúthien. Amras nodded in her direction, re-tied Itarilde to the post in front of him and walked up the stone steps into their house.
"Father" Amras said with great respect. After all, his father was a great warrior and had led the elvish army to many victories. Most children's names were similar to their fathers, but Amras's wasn't. His father was named Glorfindel.
"Amras, your mother has grown sick again. You must travel to Rohan to buy medicine" Glorf, short for Glorfindel, ordered, not looking at his son. "Leave tonight"
"Of course, father." With that Amras hurried out of his father's quarters. Upon coming out, he bumped into Luthien. "Luthien gather my travel bag and pack it"
His sister nodded and hurried off to do so. Amras bolted down the stairs and towards the barn. He gathered his saddle and bridle and started to tack Itarildë. Half an hour later, he was sitting upon Itarildë, his travel bag slung over his shoulder and his travelling coat wrapped around him.
Luthien stood next to her brother. "Ride like the wind" she whispered and let go of the reins. Amras nodded and kicked Itarildë into a gallop. Before to long he had disappeared out of the Rivendell and into the distant plains.
* * * *
Amras rode all through the night and by dawn he had reached his destination. He slid of his horses back and led Itarildë inside the village. He knew exactly where he had to go to find the one of a kind medicine that his mother required. He traveled down the streets, glancing at the villagers as he did so. He knew that the children were staring at him because of his culture. He pushed his long brown hair, which had some streaks of blonde through them, behind his pointed ears and continued his journey.
Suddenly he remembered something; he looked down at the chain hanging around his neck and stuffed it into his shirt. On the end of the chain was a moon-shaped object, something that was passed down from generation to generation. It symbolized being an ancestor of a great warrior and the potential to be a great warrior as well. Amras thought it was a load of bull, what elf in the 21st century cared about being a great warrior?
Anyway, people tend to stare at those kinds of people, those meaning ancestors of warriors. Their looks were sometimes joyful but usually scared. As if they'd attack at any moment.
Amras pulled Itarildë out of the way of an on-coming car. Most men preferred cars, but most elvish people rode horses that was the way Amras liked it. He preferred to rock in the saddle of a horse, then sit in an in closed car.
Finally he reached his destination, Robbie's Medical center. He tied Itarildë to a pole and walked in. He was greeted by Robbie, who knew what Amras was here for. As Robbie searched for the one in a kind medicine, that only he grew, he asked Amras a few questions.
"So Amras, I thought you elvish were immortal. If so, why do you always come for medicine for your sick mother?" Even though the times had changed, many people still talked the way they did back in the middle ages.
"Over the years, things have changed. We elvish have become more weak, it's because we adapted your way of living ya know!" he joked. Robbie stood up from behind the counter, chuckling as he handed over the medicine.
"Well that's nice to know" Robbie accepted the money that Amras was handing over and watched as Amras left the shop.
Once getting outside, Amras looked up. Dark storm clouds were forming above his head. "Come Itarildë, we must find shelter from the storm" he said. He pulled himself on Itarildë's back and started to weave through the crowded streets.
* * * *
There was a reason behind the storm. As there is every storm. Far away, in the ruins of Mordor evil stirred.
A dark wizard chanted away above an old tomb. The tomb of Saruman, it was called. Thunder clapped and lighting stroke through the sky as he chanted in an old wizard language, that has been long forgotten for many years. A flaming red glow appeared above the tomb; slowly it was lowered until it covered the tomb.
The wizard stopped chanting as the tomb glowed. Suddenly a ghost image of Saruman walked through the stone.
"Master, I have freed you" The wizard bowed.
"What year is it?" The shadowy image of Saruman demanded.
"It is 2003, sir" the wizard replied.
"A little later then planned, isn't it Saurod?"
* * * *
"AMRAS! AMRAS!" a voice yelled out into the crowd. It was coming from a girl, not a day older then 16. She had a hood hiding her face, but Amras knew that voice.
He turned around and slid of Itarildë. He ran to the voice and squeezed her in a bone-breaking hug. "Tamuríl Séregon, what are you doing here?" he questioned after letting her go. Tamuril was his best childhood friend. During their childhood one wouldn't be seen without the other.
"Well you know how I was going to travel the countryside? I'm doing it!" She stepped back for a few seconds to look him over. "Jeez Amras, you look horrible"
"Well thankyou" Amras replied with a smile. "You have some where that me and Itarildë can stay until the storm is over?"
Tamuril replied with a nod. She quickly hurried off into the crowd, making Amras run to keep up with her.
Before too long, Amras was inside a warm inn enjoying a good laugh and warm cup of coffee with his old friend.
* * * *
The following day, the rains had subsided and Amras was just about to finish tacking Itarildë for their ride home when Tamuril came rushing out of the inn.
"Amras!" she cried as he mounted his horse. "Promise me, you'll come travel with me. Like old times"
Amras smiled at her pleading face. "Just like old times? Sure" With that he disappeared into the horizon.
* * * *
Saruman's ghostly figure circled the room. Saurod sat patiently on a seat nearby. Saruman was deep in thought, of how he could become whole again. It had took an extremely long time for Saurod to bring him back and he sure as hell wasn't going to wait that long till he became all powerful and whole again.
"I've got it" Saruman announced, he paused his pacing as he explained his plan. "We need to get Obadiah and Raphah's help though" Saurod nodded, Obadiah and Raphah were war- seeking sorcerer's that wanted nothing more then to destroy mankind.
Slowly Saruman began to tell Saurod this plan. The only way possible for him to become full again was to kill a hero and steal his power. At first, Saruman thought of Frodo, but Saurod told him that none of the fellowship members were alive anymore. So Saruman settled on killing the ancestors of the nine of the fellowship. They each inherited power and potential and by stealing that power Saruman would be able to take over middle earth forever.
"Excellent plan master, I'll gather Obadiah and Raphah right away" Saurod sneered and exited the tomb, where they were going to be keeping a low profile until Saruman was powerful.
Summary: An Ancestor of Legolas will have to save middle earth as a new threat rises. (Set in 2003) (All new characters)
Chapter one ~ Amras Mithrandír
~ As the years went on things changed. Men became more to themselves, more violent, angrier with everyone who wasn't mankind. Elves started to adapt the way of living as a normal person. The danger of being killed by men rose for us, Elves.
By the 21st century, middle earth was like the rest of the world, we had electricity, Discman's, refrigerators and computers and you'd sometimes see a man with a car. Quickly Middle Earth began to forget who we truly were. Fighters, horse riders, swords men, survivors. None of us thought that we would be reminded by the forces of darkness~
Amras brushed his horse's mane as he listened to his little sister sing along to some music. He tried to think of what it would've been like in the days when his great-great (Etc) grandfather was around. Thanks to Legolas and the fellowship, middle earth had been saved. But unfortunately, Legolas had died in a battle over two opposing towns. Many of his fellow elves pushed Amras to be as good as Legolas. But it was impossible.
Amras couldn't fight, he wasn't brave and basically the only thing he could do was ride his horse, Itarildë. Amras rested his head on the jet-black hair of the Friesian's back. His attention was diverted when possibly the most beautiful of all elves walked past, Larien Calafalas.
He had daydreamed so many times of them together, but never had the guts to talk to her. And besides, Larien was already dating someone, Valandil Carnesîr, who was a warrior and 20, three years older, then Amras and Larien.
"Amras, father needs to talk to you" His sister called out. His sister was 16 and named Lúthien. Amras nodded in her direction, re-tied Itarilde to the post in front of him and walked up the stone steps into their house.
"Father" Amras said with great respect. After all, his father was a great warrior and had led the elvish army to many victories. Most children's names were similar to their fathers, but Amras's wasn't. His father was named Glorfindel.
"Amras, your mother has grown sick again. You must travel to Rohan to buy medicine" Glorf, short for Glorfindel, ordered, not looking at his son. "Leave tonight"
"Of course, father." With that Amras hurried out of his father's quarters. Upon coming out, he bumped into Luthien. "Luthien gather my travel bag and pack it"
His sister nodded and hurried off to do so. Amras bolted down the stairs and towards the barn. He gathered his saddle and bridle and started to tack Itarildë. Half an hour later, he was sitting upon Itarildë, his travel bag slung over his shoulder and his travelling coat wrapped around him.
Luthien stood next to her brother. "Ride like the wind" she whispered and let go of the reins. Amras nodded and kicked Itarildë into a gallop. Before to long he had disappeared out of the Rivendell and into the distant plains.
* * * *
Amras rode all through the night and by dawn he had reached his destination. He slid of his horses back and led Itarildë inside the village. He knew exactly where he had to go to find the one of a kind medicine that his mother required. He traveled down the streets, glancing at the villagers as he did so. He knew that the children were staring at him because of his culture. He pushed his long brown hair, which had some streaks of blonde through them, behind his pointed ears and continued his journey.
Suddenly he remembered something; he looked down at the chain hanging around his neck and stuffed it into his shirt. On the end of the chain was a moon-shaped object, something that was passed down from generation to generation. It symbolized being an ancestor of a great warrior and the potential to be a great warrior as well. Amras thought it was a load of bull, what elf in the 21st century cared about being a great warrior?
Anyway, people tend to stare at those kinds of people, those meaning ancestors of warriors. Their looks were sometimes joyful but usually scared. As if they'd attack at any moment.
Amras pulled Itarildë out of the way of an on-coming car. Most men preferred cars, but most elvish people rode horses that was the way Amras liked it. He preferred to rock in the saddle of a horse, then sit in an in closed car.
Finally he reached his destination, Robbie's Medical center. He tied Itarildë to a pole and walked in. He was greeted by Robbie, who knew what Amras was here for. As Robbie searched for the one in a kind medicine, that only he grew, he asked Amras a few questions.
"So Amras, I thought you elvish were immortal. If so, why do you always come for medicine for your sick mother?" Even though the times had changed, many people still talked the way they did back in the middle ages.
"Over the years, things have changed. We elvish have become more weak, it's because we adapted your way of living ya know!" he joked. Robbie stood up from behind the counter, chuckling as he handed over the medicine.
"Well that's nice to know" Robbie accepted the money that Amras was handing over and watched as Amras left the shop.
Once getting outside, Amras looked up. Dark storm clouds were forming above his head. "Come Itarildë, we must find shelter from the storm" he said. He pulled himself on Itarildë's back and started to weave through the crowded streets.
* * * *
There was a reason behind the storm. As there is every storm. Far away, in the ruins of Mordor evil stirred.
A dark wizard chanted away above an old tomb. The tomb of Saruman, it was called. Thunder clapped and lighting stroke through the sky as he chanted in an old wizard language, that has been long forgotten for many years. A flaming red glow appeared above the tomb; slowly it was lowered until it covered the tomb.
The wizard stopped chanting as the tomb glowed. Suddenly a ghost image of Saruman walked through the stone.
"Master, I have freed you" The wizard bowed.
"What year is it?" The shadowy image of Saruman demanded.
"It is 2003, sir" the wizard replied.
"A little later then planned, isn't it Saurod?"
* * * *
"AMRAS! AMRAS!" a voice yelled out into the crowd. It was coming from a girl, not a day older then 16. She had a hood hiding her face, but Amras knew that voice.
He turned around and slid of Itarildë. He ran to the voice and squeezed her in a bone-breaking hug. "Tamuríl Séregon, what are you doing here?" he questioned after letting her go. Tamuril was his best childhood friend. During their childhood one wouldn't be seen without the other.
"Well you know how I was going to travel the countryside? I'm doing it!" She stepped back for a few seconds to look him over. "Jeez Amras, you look horrible"
"Well thankyou" Amras replied with a smile. "You have some where that me and Itarildë can stay until the storm is over?"
Tamuril replied with a nod. She quickly hurried off into the crowd, making Amras run to keep up with her.
Before too long, Amras was inside a warm inn enjoying a good laugh and warm cup of coffee with his old friend.
* * * *
The following day, the rains had subsided and Amras was just about to finish tacking Itarildë for their ride home when Tamuril came rushing out of the inn.
"Amras!" she cried as he mounted his horse. "Promise me, you'll come travel with me. Like old times"
Amras smiled at her pleading face. "Just like old times? Sure" With that he disappeared into the horizon.
* * * *
Saruman's ghostly figure circled the room. Saurod sat patiently on a seat nearby. Saruman was deep in thought, of how he could become whole again. It had took an extremely long time for Saurod to bring him back and he sure as hell wasn't going to wait that long till he became all powerful and whole again.
"I've got it" Saruman announced, he paused his pacing as he explained his plan. "We need to get Obadiah and Raphah's help though" Saurod nodded, Obadiah and Raphah were war- seeking sorcerer's that wanted nothing more then to destroy mankind.
Slowly Saruman began to tell Saurod this plan. The only way possible for him to become full again was to kill a hero and steal his power. At first, Saruman thought of Frodo, but Saurod told him that none of the fellowship members were alive anymore. So Saruman settled on killing the ancestors of the nine of the fellowship. They each inherited power and potential and by stealing that power Saruman would be able to take over middle earth forever.
"Excellent plan master, I'll gather Obadiah and Raphah right away" Saurod sneered and exited the tomb, where they were going to be keeping a low profile until Saruman was powerful.