Chapter Text
“I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae...a han noston ned wilith.
The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves; immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine... Nine rings were gifted to the Race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged, in secret, a Master Ring to control all others. And into this Ring he poured all his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all.
One by one, the Free Lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring. But there were some who resisted. A last alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor. And under the slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the Ring could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father's sword. Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of Men are easily corrupted. And the Ring of Power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death.
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the Ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared a new bearer. The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long life. For 500 years, it poisoned his mind. And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East – whispers of a nameless fear. And the Ring of Power perceived its time had now come. It abandoned Gollum. But something happened then the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable. A Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. For the time will soon come when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all...”
Year 3018 of the Third Age. April, specifically. Frodo Baggins has left on his journey to bring the One Ring to Rivendell. As he walks on the road, four other characters will converge and begin a story parallel to his own. But let us travel back…oh, 600 plus years, to the refuge of Edhelion, in Ered Luin, the year 2341. A young elf is visiting with his master, Talagan Silvertongue. This elf’s name is Giladan of Imladris, called Rivendell by Men. He is a Hunter, a master of field and forest, unmatched with the bow. It was meant to be a peaceful visit, meant to see their kin. But all is not well in Edhelion, for the refuge is under attack by Dourhand dwarves, led by the evil king Skorgrím. Here, our story begins…
As war rages outside, Giladan is running through the halls of Edhelion, when he hears a voice call out his name. He turns. It is Elrond Halfelven, the Star-dome, his lord by hearth, beckoning him over. “Lord Elrond? What is happening? Why are the dwarves attacking us?!” The hunter notices his lord is wrought with worry as he moves to give you orders. “You cannot tarry here any longer, Giladan. Skorgrím's forces are upon us, and I fear they make straight for this library! He seeks the relics of Edhelion, though I do not know what a dwarf could want with them. These relics were once coveted by a Gaunt-lord of old. I think the fool believes he can become immortal if he acquires them. Search that satchel and arm yourself!”
Giladan searches the satchel and finds a weapon: a short bow. Much to his dismay, he notices that it is shoddy and fragile. He also finds two very, very dull knives. “How am I supposed to fight trained warriors with these?” He thinks, “I’ll be lucky if I can shoot five feet in front of me.” Elrond, did not seemed to mind. “Good -- you are better armed. Your master Talagan wishes to see you before you venture out into the fray. But do hurry! This place is not safe for you.” Giladan rushes to follow Elrond, worrying about his master, as they find Talagan in the library. "Talagan,” Elrond calls out, “I have found your student! Quickly -- say what you wish to say. Giladan is not safe here for long."
Giladan had a look of relief in his eye. “Giladan, my dear student! I wish I could let you stay safe within these walls, but Elrond tells me that Skorgrím makes straight for the library. You must survive the battle outside, I am afraid. I worry for you! Duel with me one last time, my friend, and show me that you are ready. It will ease my heart! Let us see how well you have learned!” Giladan wonders why he needs to duel his master, but draws his bow. The two clash as Talagan throws spells at Giladan. The young hunter dodges left and right, dashing around his opponent as he lets loose with a barrage of arrows, landing a few hits before Talagan calls an end to their clash. “Well done, Giladan! You have learned well.”
Suddenly, a great thunderclap shakes the library. Elrond looks over towards the door in alarm. “Ai! Skorgrím's forces draw near!” Talagan looks down in dismay. “"It seems they will do anything to get at those relics...." Elrond turns in the direction of Giladan with a weary look in his eyes. “There is no time to waste, Giladan. Go outside with Talagan and see what can be done to stop Skorgrím from advancing. The Dourhands cannot be allowed to take the Gaunt-lord's relics; I have vowed to keep them safe. I will hide the relics, then I will join Talagan in protecting the library. Be safe, young hunter.” Giladan hears another thunderclap, before a voice shouts over the commotion. “Giladan, hurry! We have little time!” Giladan turns around and sees his master running out the door. “Come, this way. I must defend the library against Skorgrím.” They stop at an overlook, gazing over the battle below. “Go, Giladan! This is where the storm will converge. Edhelben is down below -- he will let you through the gate to protect what is left of this refuge.”
Giladan is beckoned by Edhelben to follow him down the path towards the gate. Eventually, he stops, and directs Giladan in the direction of the back entrance. “Those in the courtyard will need your help until Elrond returns. The main gates are barred, so you should travel to the west and go up the stairs. From there, travel along to the back entrance. Hopefully, someone will let you in. Be careful, though...there may still be a few stragglers left behind that you may have to deal with.” Giladan rushes forward down the path, only to be accosted by five Dourhand invaders. “Damn…and with these weapons. I guess it’s time to see if my master taught me well.” One of the dwarves sneers at the sight of a supposedly easy prey before them: “Come to my blade, elf.” “Maybe you should rethink that wish,” Giladan says in defiance. In the blink of an eye, an arrow appears in his bow and he lets loose, catching one of the dwarves in the eye. The others are frozen in shock as another arrow is driven through the throat of its target. The three remaining enemies come to their senses and rush the hunter, but he jumps back and fires a shot to one’s knee, forcing the offender to the floor. In a flash, like a famed Elven archer, he draws both his daggers, and cuts the throat of one dwarf, dodging and rolling right, he stabs upwards at the stomach of another, disemboweling his opponent. Reaching his last opponent, still on one knee, he takes out a barbed arrow, stabbing the dwarf in the chest, before wrenching it out, along with his heart.
As Giladan reaches the area near the gates, he hears a familiar voice. “Back!” it shouts, “Back I say!” Giladan fires an arrow at the Dourhands attacking this ally, killing it. “Dorongúr! Are you alright?” The elf turns around. “Ah, it is Talagan's young charge! I will open the gate for you, Giladan!” Dorongúr Whitethorn, the Oak-heart, runs to the lever, pulling it and opening the gate. “Quick, come in! I am glad you have survived this massacre. Alas that it is not over yet. This way!” Giladan follows him as he continues. “I fear for Edhelion. How much more can we withstand? And I hear that Skorgrím has not even shown himself yet...which means the worst is yet to come.” They reach the gate, only to see guard waving frantically. “Dorongúr! Dorongúr, they have broken through!” Dorongúr turns to Giladan with a grim frown. “Come, Giladan. The final battle is at hand! Prepare yourself...the gate will not hold long!” Giladan stands nervously in front of the gate as it breaks open, the hoard of Dourhand dwarves rushing in…
***
The battle rages on as Giladan and Dorongúr fight alongside the guards of Edhelion. The dwarves just keep coming, and all hope seems lost. Suddenly, Giladan hears a mighty yell, and sees Lord Elrond himself leap into the fray, crying, “A Elbereth! Edhellen crist!”, as he stabs into the ground. The remaining dwarves fall, and the gate seals. With a sigh of fatigue, he turns to the two defenders. “Dorongúr, come! Talagan alone defends the library! He sent me to save Giladan.” A flash of realization strikes Giladan like one of his own arrows, and he rushes off towards the library, the response of Dorongúr ignored by his ears. With the two elves hot on his heels, he reaches the library, only to see his master standing off with Skorgrím, king of the Dourhands.
“Stand aside, Elf. The relics are mine!” “Never!” Talagan begins chanting in Elvish, a fervent incantation, one that causes Giladan to look on in terror. The other two elves realize this as well. “Oh, Talagan…” Elrond sadly mutters. Skorgrím suddenly has a panicked look in his eyes as Talagan’s voice is raised. “What is he doing? Stop him!” Talagan’s voice reaches a crescendo as the library begins to shake violently. Dorongúr yells out, “Talagan, NO!” buts it's too late. The ceiling of the library collapses and kills Talagan and Skorgrim. Giladan hears Elrond mutter, “Be at peace, Talagan Silvertongue.” He turns to Giladan. “Alas, Giladan...you have lost your beloved master. You may blame me for his death...I could have saved him, but he bade me go to you instead. Talagan was brave to spare your young life. Edhelion is ruined now...Talagan was not the only Elf to die today. Skorgrím will trouble us no more, and the relics are safely buried, but it was such a needless battle! Edhelion will fade...”