User blog:Dunethunder76mx/Part of a small fanfiction about lotr.

This is part of the fanfiction I am writing about lord of the rings and what happens after the ring is destroyed. (Its based off of the role-playing currently going on in my server) It is titled. The High-Evil

As they watched the ring be destroyed, he said, the world will fall in there blindest hour, and by this he meant, Nalt-Illska was rising. Nalt-Illska means High-Evil in black speech, and they truly are the high-evil, they make sauron and melkor look like a joke. This is an account of the rise of Nalt-Illska, taken by one of the few survivors of the war Andarr.

As the sun rises that day, the day the world hopes to forget, the land of mordor seems to get darker, more menacing looking. I am Andarr, a warrior of Aragorn and the reunited kingdom of the west. Ithilien is no longer safe like it was for the past five years. But nobody is safe like they were for the past five years. The armies of Nalt-Illska have taken over the east from the misties to the edge of rhun. It's all been bathed in shadow, and corrupted. The Wood-elves have been driven from their home, and after that, the world finally realized the cruelty of the ones we call Nalt-Illska. Their leader is known as Anarandil he was an elf once. Apparently most of the Nalt-Illska leaders were elves once, but they became corrupted. The Spirit of Nalt-Illska, and Eru Ilúvatar, seem to be one. But separate minds in one soul. I cannot explain this further. Gandalf may know, or Pallando.

But on that day that the sun rose, it was red, meaning blood was spilled the night before. Before I knew it the horns of Minas Ithil were blaring to signal an attack. I looked to the mountains, they were swarming with orcs, and at the gate there was trolls, we were completely and hopelessly surrounded. They sent the birds to our allies to hope for reinforcements in this battle. I don’t know how I survived this battle, but I did. Minutes seemed like hours, hours seemed like years. We fought our hardest but we were hopelessly outnumbered. For our every 40 troops, they had 60. Minas Ithil was lost, and so the last hope we had was lost.

Years passed, Minas Tirith fell, Fornost fell, the dark was winning. More and more people were supporting Nalt-Illska because good was failing. But we were not dead yet. They may hold Most of the world, but we will not give until we are dead. Eru is still with us. Radagast has been corrupted, how I know not. But this darkness is strong, even stronger than sauron, or from what I have heard, Melkor.

The last of us, are debating weather to fight or to flee across the sea. I support fighting till the end, so does aragorn. But others have been shattered by their losses. Thranduil is a good example, his people are enslaved by Nalt-Illska, his halls are in the hands of evil, and he is shattered by it. All he wants to do is hide from the darkness, his losses have destroyed him. That is was the darkness is good at. Completely crushing people to make them submit.  Another year passes, and nalt-illska is marching on us to end us. We are weak in number, our troops are weary, and we seldom have much supplies here. This is either the end, or the beginning of something new. But before the battle started a voice rose above all else. It was Anarandil. He offered us a chance to surrender and live. To embrace the darkness and avoid unnecessary blood being spilled. He is mockery, but he is tempting. But all of us remain silent, no one moves. Then our wall shatters... 