Post by Elindir on Jan 28, 2005 17:16:01 GMT
The attack had come swift, it had been devastating. As soon as they heard that a party of orcs was coming, blackening the lands of Ilithien, Anarion had been summoned along with every other able bodied man in his village to ambush them. But they had not realised the orcs weren’t acting under their own influence, they were the servants of Sauron and acting were acting under his guidance. They sent the majority of the forces round the ambush, and into the unprotected villages.
Anarion had originally been from the Northern realm of Eriador but when travelling south he met his wife and fell in love, so much so he was willing to give up his homeland and heritage in order to stay with her in Ithilien. And they were happy together, and she bore to him a child whom they named Elindir.
But now all that was lost. The women and children did not stand a chance. By the time the men returned from what they thought was a successful ambush, the village was practically deserted.
Anarion wandered through the ruined remains of his home, looking at broken possessions and remembering treasured memories. They had had good times here, but there was nothing left now. Just as he turned to leave what was once his home he heard the faintest of sounds, the sound of a crying baby.
He found his son wrapt in blankets and hidden in the bottom of a cupboard. It was a miracle that his son had been spared the reckless hate of the orcs.
Elindir grew up in a tiny village located in a fair woodland area with a small stream running through it. He had no memory of his mother, or of his home in Ithilien. Along with the rest of the survivors from the local area, Elindirs father had travelled northwards, away from danger. They spent a year living in Rohan before finally returning to Anarions homeland of Eriador.
It was many years later that Elindir finally left the confines of his village. He was wide eyed at the beauty of the lands which he lived in. Wild plains stretching as far as the eye could see. Mysterious ruins of ages past. In his youth Elindir grew to love the wilds of Eriador more than he loved his own village. And when the time came, he decided to venture out into the world on his own, although this was against his fathers wishes. Anarion knew of the dangers of these lands, but his son insisted so he reluctantly let him go.
It was a chance meeting that led Elindir to stumble upon Féldur, a veteran elven warrior. He had not been in the wild long but was already beginning to feel the loneliness so was welcome of a companion.
As the two of them travelled together, Elindir learnt of much of Féldurs history. He told of many great wars and adventures. He even told Elindir of how he had found Neisa, the long sword he carried. It had been a daring expedition which is too long to tell here. As Elindir stared I awe at the razor sharp, glimmering blade he felt ashamed of his dull short sword. But Féldur humoured him and told him that he was still young with much to learn.
But for his happiness that he had such a great companion, there was doubt in Elindirs heart. He knew something wasn’t right, there was something Féldur wasn’t telling him. Somehow, Elindir knew that there was something in his past, a secret he didn’t want to divulge.
So it was that Féldur and Elindir started to travel through the wild lands together, sharing stories and adventures, looking upon breath taking sights. But their friendship was to be short lived…<br>
The attack came swift. The band of orcs had been awaiting for a group of unsuspecting travellers to travel the path where their ambush was set. When Féldur and Elindir sprung an attack on them from behind they didn’t know which way to turn or what to do. Although Elindir had little skill with his blade still, it was enough to dispatch a panicking orc. They ran everywhere, fleeing the elven warrior and his companion. All but one, and one is all it takes.
The arrow whistled through the air, and almost in slow motion, Féldur turned as it thudded into his chest causing his to collapse forward onto his knees before falling backwards. The orc fled into the trees.
Féldur was taking sharp, short breaths, struggling to stay away. Elindir kneeled by his side, afraid of what was going to happen. He watched, stunned, as Féldur tugged at the broach holding on his cloak. It was an intricate circular design made of silver. Finally releasing it, Féldur pressed it into Elindirs hand. “There is much you do not know about me lad” he rasped. “I was once the leader of a brave group called the Circle of Peace who strove to rid these lands of such foul beasts. But I failed.” He looked deep into Elindirs watering eyes. “But now I must call upon you. Evil times are upon us and I cannot do anything about it. But you can.” Even now, Féldurs eyes were beginning to cloud over. “Reform the group, bring peace to these lands. Do me proud.” He let go of Elindirs hand and fumbled at his side until his hand grasped his hilt. With his last strength he heaved it up and pushed it into Elindirs other hand. “Wield her might once more” he gasped before he left the lands of the living and travelled into the West, where he could meet once again with his kin.
Elindir raised a mound over the body of his mentor. He had buried his short sword with Féldur, for he felt a true warrior should never be parted from the sword, even in death. Then, with a heavy breath, after paying his final respects, Elindir looked across the wild lands before him.
He knew what he must now do. During their travels, Féldur had told of a some companions he had once fought with. Maybe they would know where or if any remnant of the circle remained. Maybe some of them had once been members.
So, the Circle of Peace was reformed as Elindir stepped out into the wilds, on his way to Rivendell, in search of companions. With the broach clasped at his neck and Neisa hanging on his belt. It would be a long journey, one which would take much of his life, but a fire burned in his heart driving him onwards.
Please feel free to comment, make suggestions or critisize
©2005 by Elindir
Anarion had originally been from the Northern realm of Eriador but when travelling south he met his wife and fell in love, so much so he was willing to give up his homeland and heritage in order to stay with her in Ithilien. And they were happy together, and she bore to him a child whom they named Elindir.
But now all that was lost. The women and children did not stand a chance. By the time the men returned from what they thought was a successful ambush, the village was practically deserted.
Anarion wandered through the ruined remains of his home, looking at broken possessions and remembering treasured memories. They had had good times here, but there was nothing left now. Just as he turned to leave what was once his home he heard the faintest of sounds, the sound of a crying baby.
He found his son wrapt in blankets and hidden in the bottom of a cupboard. It was a miracle that his son had been spared the reckless hate of the orcs.
Elindir grew up in a tiny village located in a fair woodland area with a small stream running through it. He had no memory of his mother, or of his home in Ithilien. Along with the rest of the survivors from the local area, Elindirs father had travelled northwards, away from danger. They spent a year living in Rohan before finally returning to Anarions homeland of Eriador.
It was many years later that Elindir finally left the confines of his village. He was wide eyed at the beauty of the lands which he lived in. Wild plains stretching as far as the eye could see. Mysterious ruins of ages past. In his youth Elindir grew to love the wilds of Eriador more than he loved his own village. And when the time came, he decided to venture out into the world on his own, although this was against his fathers wishes. Anarion knew of the dangers of these lands, but his son insisted so he reluctantly let him go.
It was a chance meeting that led Elindir to stumble upon Féldur, a veteran elven warrior. He had not been in the wild long but was already beginning to feel the loneliness so was welcome of a companion.
As the two of them travelled together, Elindir learnt of much of Féldurs history. He told of many great wars and adventures. He even told Elindir of how he had found Neisa, the long sword he carried. It had been a daring expedition which is too long to tell here. As Elindir stared I awe at the razor sharp, glimmering blade he felt ashamed of his dull short sword. But Féldur humoured him and told him that he was still young with much to learn.
But for his happiness that he had such a great companion, there was doubt in Elindirs heart. He knew something wasn’t right, there was something Féldur wasn’t telling him. Somehow, Elindir knew that there was something in his past, a secret he didn’t want to divulge.
So it was that Féldur and Elindir started to travel through the wild lands together, sharing stories and adventures, looking upon breath taking sights. But their friendship was to be short lived…<br>
The attack came swift. The band of orcs had been awaiting for a group of unsuspecting travellers to travel the path where their ambush was set. When Féldur and Elindir sprung an attack on them from behind they didn’t know which way to turn or what to do. Although Elindir had little skill with his blade still, it was enough to dispatch a panicking orc. They ran everywhere, fleeing the elven warrior and his companion. All but one, and one is all it takes.
The arrow whistled through the air, and almost in slow motion, Féldur turned as it thudded into his chest causing his to collapse forward onto his knees before falling backwards. The orc fled into the trees.
Féldur was taking sharp, short breaths, struggling to stay away. Elindir kneeled by his side, afraid of what was going to happen. He watched, stunned, as Féldur tugged at the broach holding on his cloak. It was an intricate circular design made of silver. Finally releasing it, Féldur pressed it into Elindirs hand. “There is much you do not know about me lad” he rasped. “I was once the leader of a brave group called the Circle of Peace who strove to rid these lands of such foul beasts. But I failed.” He looked deep into Elindirs watering eyes. “But now I must call upon you. Evil times are upon us and I cannot do anything about it. But you can.” Even now, Féldurs eyes were beginning to cloud over. “Reform the group, bring peace to these lands. Do me proud.” He let go of Elindirs hand and fumbled at his side until his hand grasped his hilt. With his last strength he heaved it up and pushed it into Elindirs other hand. “Wield her might once more” he gasped before he left the lands of the living and travelled into the West, where he could meet once again with his kin.
Elindir raised a mound over the body of his mentor. He had buried his short sword with Féldur, for he felt a true warrior should never be parted from the sword, even in death. Then, with a heavy breath, after paying his final respects, Elindir looked across the wild lands before him.
He knew what he must now do. During their travels, Féldur had told of a some companions he had once fought with. Maybe they would know where or if any remnant of the circle remained. Maybe some of them had once been members.
So, the Circle of Peace was reformed as Elindir stepped out into the wilds, on his way to Rivendell, in search of companions. With the broach clasped at his neck and Neisa hanging on his belt. It would be a long journey, one which would take much of his life, but a fire burned in his heart driving him onwards.
Please feel free to comment, make suggestions or critisize
©2005 by Elindir
When I get enough time, I'll try to add in more detail and make those changes 