Thread:Lord Epicus!/@comment-27704072-20160326151443

Could you edit the first two chapters of the story? You only need to make paragraphs and make sure all the dialougue is grammatically correct. Grievous will do the rest.

Ch.1

It was the thirty-third year since the beginning of the fourth age, and Middle-Earth was beginning to settle once more. With Sauron defeated, and Mordor in ruins, the only orc threat were the great hordes of Gundabad. Many elves had left the world, and many men had moved into places such as Rivendell and Lorien. The men of Gondor and Rohan had another problem on their hands: Nan Curunir and the Uruks of Isengard. After Saruman’s defeat at Helm’s Deep and the Siege of Orthanc, many Uruk-Hai still wandered in the northern reaches of Rohan. The solution that newly crowned king Aragorn had come up with was the creation of a new kingdom. The land would include Nan-Curunir, the Uruk highlands, the Fangorn wasteland, and the reaches of northern Rohan. Queen Eowyn of Rohan was more than happy to oblige to this plan. Many men from Rohan, Gondor, and even some Dalish folk began to settle this land: Cultia. The city of Caer Deam began construction, and the world seemed at peace once more.

In the southern peaks of the Misty Mountains a new “people” so-to-speak were coming to power. They are the Vireni, or Wyverns in the common tongue. They are similar looking to dragons but have no relation to them whatsoever. Their scales were green with a light coating of feathers and large wings capable of flying to great heights. Their shining beaks were born to crack the bones of orcs. They were a noble breed.

On the peak of Methedras lived a very curious creature. His parenthood being of a strange bird from the east called a Peafowl and a Wyvern. This caused this creature to be very, well, strange. His body was of the Wyvern shape, but his tail was longer, colorfull, and much thicker with feathers. In fact his whole body had more feathers than it should. Most Wyverns have feathers lining their wings and one or two at the tip of the tail, but this was practically a whole new species. His head sported three feathers between his pointed ears, and his wings were nearly like a birds. His chest had a lighter coating of blue down. All these feathers meant he didn’t have to spend so much time in a warm cave and could fly around the cold peaks blissfully. His name in Wyvertounge was Vacai, but many knew him by a different name: Willy The Wyvern.

‘Pop up you lazy daisy,’ Willy heard from the threshold of his room “I’ve got your breakfast here!” Willy’s eyes began to open, still glazed and longing for sleep. He could begin to make out the green figure of his mother in the doorway. She held a stone platter in her talons. “I’ve gotten you a rotting squirrel carcass, some old vulture eggs, and your father sent you this from the east.” She pulled out a small, reddish-greenish oval from her tailfeathers. “A mango!” Willy squealed with delight. “I’ve been hoping father would send me something from Rhun. When do you think he’ll come and visit?” His mother sighed and shook her head. “Your father’s a busy man,” she stated with remorse, “He has to deal with all the Peafowl population in Rhun, and they are in a bit of a pickle right now with Khand.” Willy felt doubt that his father would ever come back to the mountains. It had been nearly two and a half years since he had even spoken with his father, and the memory was beginning to fade into shadow.

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Ch.2

Every morning after Willy finished his breakfast he would go out flying around Methedras. There were rarely orcs so high on the mountain, but if there was he would take care of them. During this time, Willy had time to think. He remembered his days in Rhun. He had the vaguest memory of his father staring down at him as a hatchling. He remembered the warm sun gleaming upon the Free Easterlings’ armour. He remembered the flocks and flocks of Peafowls striding gallantly behind his father. Alas, it was no more. Willy then snapped out of dream. There, upon the mountain, treked not only one orc but a whole party. He swooped for the warning strike. The orcs were in panic. Their hike through the snow turned into a tired trot, and Willy swooped in for the first kill. The foul creatures eye widened as the sharp talons dug into his flesh, and down he fell. Willy landed, and charged the remaining three orcs. Two fell from the mountain, and the third had his sword drawn, but he was no match for a wyvern. So down he fell. Willy began to sniff around to see if there were any more. There, he caught a scent, but it was not of orc. Was it of elf or of man, he could not say. Then, in the distance, he could make out a lump on the ground. Willy moved over to it, and it moved. There was the face of an elf, but his scent was somewhat different to elves he had smelled before. The gray eyes stared up at him, and it mumbled “Well, what are you waiting for. Finish me of.” “I will do no such thing,”replied Willy, and he took the elfish creature into his talons.

Willy had taken him to a warm cave not far from his own. “Who are you,”Willy asked curiously. “I am Ithilion, last of the Noldor,”he said. “I’m Willy, the Wyvern,”Willy replied. The cave was silent for a while. Then the wyvern spoke out “What are you doing here on Methedras?” “I was scouting for the king of Cultia, then the orcs found me and took me.” “But why would they bring you out here?” Ithilion sighed ,“Their leader, Nagithas the Indomitable has a secret entrance to his fortress somewhere on this peak. I have been searching for months now.” “What is so important about finding this Nagithas?” Responded Willy. “He stole the great sword Ursion. It was forged by the king of Cultia, Peon, himself!” exclaimed Ithilion. “Well that is really too bad. How are you planning to get it back?” Willy asked. “That is classified my friend.” The cave was silent once more. And hour had passed and Ithilion began to sleep. Once he awoke it was not yet dawn, and a storm had been brewing. “Tell me,”said Willy, “if you’re a Noldor, why are you so mixed up with King Peon and Cultia?” “It is a long story my friend,”the Noldor replied, “too long to tell now. I must get back to the king.” Ithilion tried to stand but struggled to balance. “Your wounds still need healing. Those orcs really have beaten you up,” said Willy, “I will take you too my mother when this storm is over. She is well practiced in medicine.” “Thank you my friend,”Ithilion said with gratitude, “You are a loyal beast.” Once again he fell asleep, and the wyvern watched over him that night. The storm still raged on after dawn, and when the next night hit, Ithilion’s wounds began to feel sore, but Willy knew nothing of medicine. They could only wait for the storm to ease.

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