deto
01-27-2007, 04:00 PM
(Clarification: since it is a fan story that takes places in the universe that
tolkien created, names and places can be the same)
CHAPTERS
CHAPTER 1: Mirdautas Vras (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1206778&postcount=1)
CHAPTER 2: The Forests Rebuke (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1213850&postcount=14)
CHAPTER 3: Too Far off Track (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1217653&postcount=18)
CHAPTER 4: Arise from Ashes (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1217653&postcount=25)
CHAPTER 5: Silent Company
*****CHAPTER 1 : MIRDAUTAS VRAS*****
The sun was again hanging low on the horizon, the world seemed to be covered
in dim red light. The stomping sound heard from afar had suddenly ceased. The
Black Horde was resting. They had been marching for three days straight, as if
driven by terror, they made their way southward towards the misty mountains.
The north was free once again after the battle of the five armies, but that
is another story.
three days they had a silent follower from which they knew nothing. No one
noticed him except the few elves of mirkwood which protected the northern
border of their realm. Even if the Goblins outnumbered them by many spears
and swords, they did not dare to enter the woods. Not since the dark Necromancer
has been defeated and was driven out of his stronghold Dol Guldur in the southern
part of Mirkwood. The Goblins of the mountains hated and despised the woodelves
with their keen eyes and swift arrows. The Black Horde tried to pass the road around
Mirkwood as fast and unnoticable as possible. It was then the third day after their
departing from the north when they reached the end of Mirkwood, here they could
rest, for they were all weary. Dol Guldur was abandoned but still no woodelves came
here. The giant spiders still lingered there and the elves had fierce battle with them.
The Night was drawing near and the Goblins lit several fires, cut down trees and
established a little camp. Not far away hidden in the shadows was a faint shilouette
that no evil eye could see. The Goblins grew more and more confident with the garthering
of darkness. They began to sing in their terrible black language, a sound as if a thousand
nails pierce your heart:
Brus-kuluz taurzur bûrzu tiil-ob
Hush-ob dhurum agh ufum dhurum
Tor Vautu brus-troguz
Urgai-u gukh dûmp agh tiimor
Talaan-u rûk-ir tor urûk
Nauru-ir agh kragoru nûrsu grishûrz
Nork-ulu furtun agh goth
ob bot-tuk
Ghaash agh akûl
Mirdautas vras!
Karn ghaamp agh nût
Shaut Manwe quiinubat gukh
The night was filled with their evil voices and evil laughter, every mortal man
would have run away by the sheer sound of it. But the shadow in the woods was
not moving, he knew what they sang about. he knew the black speech well, he had
heard too many goblins curse him in this langauge. They sang about orcs and wolves
that would bring the wrath of their kin among men, elves and dwarfs and about
today being a good day to kill.
While they were still singing and mocking about their enemies the shadow crept
slowly away from the woods, to risk an ear and to find out more about their plans.
He came ever closer to the camp, no one seemed to notice him. Almost, there were
patrols about, encircling the camp. Suddenly there was riot, the sound of many
feet could be heard. "Oi! Who goes there?", torches were brought and on the open
field there stood a little host of slanty eyed goblins. 'Let me pass you maggot!'
yelled the biggest one among them and pushed the guards aside. 'Hai! Oi! Grabash,
where are you!' out of a tent came a goblin with broad shoulders and a blood red
armor, 'What is this noise!? Who disturbs me, ha!?' This was Grabash, Chieftain
of the mountain Goblins. The other one was Azhag who escaped with a few of his
people from an attack lead by roaming dwarfs. Just a second before they were
noticed the shadow had moved on and had his cloak wrapped around him to remain
unseen. He could only hear a bit of what the Goblins spoke about, but it was
obvious that Azhag was angry, very angry, longing for revenge. The two Goblins
went into their tent. It went silent again, no voice could be heard, only faint
murmur among the Goblins that were guarding the camp. Most must have been asleep,
but what they didn't know, they had to move sooner than they wanted to.
Not much later Azhag and Grabash came out again and gathered the Goblins around them
and Azhag spoke in loud commanding voice: 'My brothers! the dwarfs are abroad and
killing our kin because of their greed for gold! They shall see what their greed will
bring!' Grabash removed his scimitars from the sheaths, held them into the air and asked:
'Oi! Ho! Who wants to cut dwarf throats?!' The crowd yelled and screamed. They were
preparing to leave, to kill the dwarfs that were after them. Only a little group of
Goblins remained at the camp. The bigger host with Azhag and Grabash left the camp as
soon as they were ready and they disappeared out of sight into the darkness.
The confidence of the Goblins in the camp lessened, for the loomy woods seemed to
be more terrifing now when they were only small in numbers.
What they didn't know then, they were right in their fear. In the night a sword was
drawn, glimmering in bright blue. The shadow leaped forward onto the Goblins around
the fireplace, bells were ringing, goblins were screaming. a group was storming out
their fiery faces were filled with terror and anger. "The biter!" they yelled, they
knew the sword, this misterious warrior was wielding. Orcrist it is known to many
but the Goblins call it biter. They hated this blade, the reason for thousands of
dead brothers. The shadow was cutting, hacking and slashing and ever brighter Orcrist
seemed to glow, as if the sword would lust for more Goblin necks. No matter how hard
they tried they could not harm the cloaked warrior, spears were scattered, shields
splintered. The evil laughter died one by one untill the camp grew silent, only the
flickering of the fire could be heard. The warrior cast back his Hood and turned his
gaze into the night. Behind him a Goblin sneaked closer to him, he leaped forward and
when he thought to bring the final stroke upon his enemy the elf drove around,
separating head from shoulders and make the Goblin head fly through the night, the
body fell before his feet and the earth was soaked with pitch black blood. The misterious
cloaked warrior that night was an elf of course. Only elves could bear to hear the black
speech without fleeing in terror, and only the elves had eyes keen enough to see through
the dark of the night. No Goblin escaped the camp or saw another morning, they were all
slain, their faces showed in what terror and dismay they were when they were cut down.
Orcrist found rest in his sheath and the elf was smiling and said to himself "Indeed
a good day to kill." He searched the camp but apart from some silver coins nothing
could be found. At least nothing useful for the elf, "Rather would i die of starvation
than eating orc food", he mocked and left the camp into the night.
Elves remember and honor this night still in one of their songs, roughly translated
it goes like:
a strong foul wind in the face
as i tighten my cape, quicken my pace
i alone the great white hunter, marching through the dust
for more blood now i lust
the sword in my hand, has ever since been my best friend
it will cut through flesh and bone till the very end
a dear companion day after day
slashing and hacking everything in it's way
another village in sight of the ever watchful gaze
going faster over the plains and the misty haze
hear the bell, for whom it might toll, i care not
the fire of revenge in my eyes is burning hot
the rage has been unleashed i cannot stop
everyone must bleed to the last drop
pitch black blood spilled upon grey stone
breaking and splittering the enemies bone
dodge the arrow, block the spear
my elven mind knows no fear
i stand my ground with strong will
it is a good day to kill
orcrist my sword, the biter how goblins call
with good reason, for it will bite them all
no escape from this slaughter
suddenly dies all the evil laughter
the blade obtained from the mountains of old
the memories among goblins still bold
they fear, they hate, they curse
wielded by a strong arm, what can be worse
the biter glows bright before their grimaces
and shines upon their lifeless carcasses
they run, they hide, they scream
as if trying to awake from a bad dream
stabbing and cursing me in the black speech
but no scimitar tip will ever reach
my attacks graceful and swift like a dance
but cold and deadly by any chance
continious charges till the last falls before my feet
the biter finally sinks in his sheath
i close my eyes, wipe away the blood dark as the night
i'm tired but this wasn't todays last fight
i repeat the oath i swore: to seek, to kill and never to yield
as i leave another forsaken battlefield
my path leads me to lands away so far
i the hunter, march again, march to war
(i still try to bring more details into that, hope i can do that with the
next chapter)
tolkien created, names and places can be the same)
CHAPTERS
CHAPTER 1: Mirdautas Vras (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1206778&postcount=1)
CHAPTER 2: The Forests Rebuke (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1213850&postcount=14)
CHAPTER 3: Too Far off Track (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1217653&postcount=18)
CHAPTER 4: Arise from Ashes (http://forums.bleachportal.net/showpost.php?p=1217653&postcount=25)
CHAPTER 5: Silent Company
*****CHAPTER 1 : MIRDAUTAS VRAS*****
The sun was again hanging low on the horizon, the world seemed to be covered
in dim red light. The stomping sound heard from afar had suddenly ceased. The
Black Horde was resting. They had been marching for three days straight, as if
driven by terror, they made their way southward towards the misty mountains.
The north was free once again after the battle of the five armies, but that
is another story.
three days they had a silent follower from which they knew nothing. No one
noticed him except the few elves of mirkwood which protected the northern
border of their realm. Even if the Goblins outnumbered them by many spears
and swords, they did not dare to enter the woods. Not since the dark Necromancer
has been defeated and was driven out of his stronghold Dol Guldur in the southern
part of Mirkwood. The Goblins of the mountains hated and despised the woodelves
with their keen eyes and swift arrows. The Black Horde tried to pass the road around
Mirkwood as fast and unnoticable as possible. It was then the third day after their
departing from the north when they reached the end of Mirkwood, here they could
rest, for they were all weary. Dol Guldur was abandoned but still no woodelves came
here. The giant spiders still lingered there and the elves had fierce battle with them.
The Night was drawing near and the Goblins lit several fires, cut down trees and
established a little camp. Not far away hidden in the shadows was a faint shilouette
that no evil eye could see. The Goblins grew more and more confident with the garthering
of darkness. They began to sing in their terrible black language, a sound as if a thousand
nails pierce your heart:
Brus-kuluz taurzur bûrzu tiil-ob
Hush-ob dhurum agh ufum dhurum
Tor Vautu brus-troguz
Urgai-u gukh dûmp agh tiimor
Talaan-u rûk-ir tor urûk
Nauru-ir agh kragoru nûrsu grishûrz
Nork-ulu furtun agh goth
ob bot-tuk
Ghaash agh akûl
Mirdautas vras!
Karn ghaamp agh nût
Shaut Manwe quiinubat gukh
The night was filled with their evil voices and evil laughter, every mortal man
would have run away by the sheer sound of it. But the shadow in the woods was
not moving, he knew what they sang about. he knew the black speech well, he had
heard too many goblins curse him in this langauge. They sang about orcs and wolves
that would bring the wrath of their kin among men, elves and dwarfs and about
today being a good day to kill.
While they were still singing and mocking about their enemies the shadow crept
slowly away from the woods, to risk an ear and to find out more about their plans.
He came ever closer to the camp, no one seemed to notice him. Almost, there were
patrols about, encircling the camp. Suddenly there was riot, the sound of many
feet could be heard. "Oi! Who goes there?", torches were brought and on the open
field there stood a little host of slanty eyed goblins. 'Let me pass you maggot!'
yelled the biggest one among them and pushed the guards aside. 'Hai! Oi! Grabash,
where are you!' out of a tent came a goblin with broad shoulders and a blood red
armor, 'What is this noise!? Who disturbs me, ha!?' This was Grabash, Chieftain
of the mountain Goblins. The other one was Azhag who escaped with a few of his
people from an attack lead by roaming dwarfs. Just a second before they were
noticed the shadow had moved on and had his cloak wrapped around him to remain
unseen. He could only hear a bit of what the Goblins spoke about, but it was
obvious that Azhag was angry, very angry, longing for revenge. The two Goblins
went into their tent. It went silent again, no voice could be heard, only faint
murmur among the Goblins that were guarding the camp. Most must have been asleep,
but what they didn't know, they had to move sooner than they wanted to.
Not much later Azhag and Grabash came out again and gathered the Goblins around them
and Azhag spoke in loud commanding voice: 'My brothers! the dwarfs are abroad and
killing our kin because of their greed for gold! They shall see what their greed will
bring!' Grabash removed his scimitars from the sheaths, held them into the air and asked:
'Oi! Ho! Who wants to cut dwarf throats?!' The crowd yelled and screamed. They were
preparing to leave, to kill the dwarfs that were after them. Only a little group of
Goblins remained at the camp. The bigger host with Azhag and Grabash left the camp as
soon as they were ready and they disappeared out of sight into the darkness.
The confidence of the Goblins in the camp lessened, for the loomy woods seemed to
be more terrifing now when they were only small in numbers.
What they didn't know then, they were right in their fear. In the night a sword was
drawn, glimmering in bright blue. The shadow leaped forward onto the Goblins around
the fireplace, bells were ringing, goblins were screaming. a group was storming out
their fiery faces were filled with terror and anger. "The biter!" they yelled, they
knew the sword, this misterious warrior was wielding. Orcrist it is known to many
but the Goblins call it biter. They hated this blade, the reason for thousands of
dead brothers. The shadow was cutting, hacking and slashing and ever brighter Orcrist
seemed to glow, as if the sword would lust for more Goblin necks. No matter how hard
they tried they could not harm the cloaked warrior, spears were scattered, shields
splintered. The evil laughter died one by one untill the camp grew silent, only the
flickering of the fire could be heard. The warrior cast back his Hood and turned his
gaze into the night. Behind him a Goblin sneaked closer to him, he leaped forward and
when he thought to bring the final stroke upon his enemy the elf drove around,
separating head from shoulders and make the Goblin head fly through the night, the
body fell before his feet and the earth was soaked with pitch black blood. The misterious
cloaked warrior that night was an elf of course. Only elves could bear to hear the black
speech without fleeing in terror, and only the elves had eyes keen enough to see through
the dark of the night. No Goblin escaped the camp or saw another morning, they were all
slain, their faces showed in what terror and dismay they were when they were cut down.
Orcrist found rest in his sheath and the elf was smiling and said to himself "Indeed
a good day to kill." He searched the camp but apart from some silver coins nothing
could be found. At least nothing useful for the elf, "Rather would i die of starvation
than eating orc food", he mocked and left the camp into the night.
Elves remember and honor this night still in one of their songs, roughly translated
it goes like:
a strong foul wind in the face
as i tighten my cape, quicken my pace
i alone the great white hunter, marching through the dust
for more blood now i lust
the sword in my hand, has ever since been my best friend
it will cut through flesh and bone till the very end
a dear companion day after day
slashing and hacking everything in it's way
another village in sight of the ever watchful gaze
going faster over the plains and the misty haze
hear the bell, for whom it might toll, i care not
the fire of revenge in my eyes is burning hot
the rage has been unleashed i cannot stop
everyone must bleed to the last drop
pitch black blood spilled upon grey stone
breaking and splittering the enemies bone
dodge the arrow, block the spear
my elven mind knows no fear
i stand my ground with strong will
it is a good day to kill
orcrist my sword, the biter how goblins call
with good reason, for it will bite them all
no escape from this slaughter
suddenly dies all the evil laughter
the blade obtained from the mountains of old
the memories among goblins still bold
they fear, they hate, they curse
wielded by a strong arm, what can be worse
the biter glows bright before their grimaces
and shines upon their lifeless carcasses
they run, they hide, they scream
as if trying to awake from a bad dream
stabbing and cursing me in the black speech
but no scimitar tip will ever reach
my attacks graceful and swift like a dance
but cold and deadly by any chance
continious charges till the last falls before my feet
the biter finally sinks in his sheath
i close my eyes, wipe away the blood dark as the night
i'm tired but this wasn't todays last fight
i repeat the oath i swore: to seek, to kill and never to yield
as i leave another forsaken battlefield
my path leads me to lands away so far
i the hunter, march again, march to war
(i still try to bring more details into that, hope i can do that with the
next chapter)