User blog:Galasrinion/Erestor of the Ettenmoors -- Lords of the Troll-fells

''Hullo, all! This is my first blog post, and purely a work of fanficton. I hope you do ever enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is heavily based on my real experiences with the mod. Without further ado, I'll get right into it.''

This is the account of the Elf-lord Erestor, a High Elf in service of Círdan the Shipwright of the Grey Havens of Mithlond.

-Prologue-

So, as it happened, my simple life in the heart of the Elf-kingdoms of the Second Age came to a close. Eregion- how beautiful it once was, how I wandered in awe of the everlasting eaves of the holly trees; at least, I thought they were everlasting in the days of my ignorant youth. Ai, how wrong I was! As Orc-cries echoed off the hills combined with the screams of the Elf-host of Celebrimbor, I could not think of anything but one word- run.

Cowardly as it may seem, I was no warrior, and I left my kin to do the dirty work. I was a simple Ñoldorin Elf, one concerned only with the birds singing in the light of morning, the fruits borne by trees in the autumnal harvest, the sparkle of the snow in the frigid winters, and the beauty of the World as it was made to be. The accursed Orcs of Mordor brought their axes to tree, sledges to stone, and sword to skull.

I ran- thinking of my brothers and sisters left behind in the fires of the ruined forges. I ran- thinking of my home and land, the fair Eregion, destined to die at the hand of Sauron. And I ran- thinking of my lord Celebrimbor surrounded by fell creatures, to fall at the hand of the Enemy, abandoned by all. Tears flowed freely, and I did nothing to stop them. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to cry. I saw, out of the corner of my eyes, Elf maidens fleeing with their families. Guardsmen ushered us out of the Eregion Gate.

"Flee!" called they. "Flee for your lives! The Black Hand of Sauron is come, and the legions of the Black Land at his side! Flee! The end is near! Times are ended, and the Enemy reigns in this land now!" I kept going. In front of me, a She-elf tripped over an exposed holly root. She cried out in surprise, dropped all of her items and crumpled to the ground. In spite of my instinct, I rushed over to her. It was the least I could do.

"Lady, lady!" I said. "We must move! The forces of Sauron will not long be delayed, and the variance of Celebrimbor cannot save us. Arise, in hope you can still live!" I offered my hand. She looked up at me, making no effort to stand.

"Hope," she said, her voice hoarse. "There is no hope. My children..." She sobbed, breaking off. "My children! They are gone to fight at the side of him, the Lord Celebrimbor! They will die... There is no hope for them."

"Nay," I said, despite my true thoughts. "There is yet a chance, still. But, if you do not arise, you shall never again see them alive. Come, lady! There is always dawn, as there is always dusk. Poor times and grand times are everlasting, but, as the dark of dusk leads to the light of dawn, this fell time will give way to prosperity, give it a chance. Come, now! Let us run to dawn!" She staggered to her feet, with my help. "Swiftly, we must fly!" I took her hand and led her to the edge of Eregion.

Behind me, I heard shrieks of victory, but they were not Elf-cries. I knew what it meant- the line of Celebrimbor had broken. The only thing standing between us and the Host of Mordor were the border-guards, who were light in number. I kept on, however. As I ran, I plotted my next move. I would head to Imladris, the small safehaven to the north recently founded by Lord Elrond of Lindon. From there, I could restock and stabilize myself, and prepare to ride for Lindon, where I could seek refuge with my good friend Gelmir, who lived just outside of Mithlond.

I picked up my pace as I hit the vast emptiness of the Lone-lands. I knew this was to be a new start for me- one I would meet with a heavy heart and an open mind. Sorrow pierced me in a dozen places, but one part of me shined brightly- hope. I knew there was always a path, even if it was troublesome to find.

-Chapter I: A New Beginning-

I walked through the meadow, the green grass brushing my bare feet. The flowers were plentiful, the birches tall, the skies blue. It was a fair day, a good day, one without sorrow and with peace. I recalled the terrible night in the Sacking of Eregion, which Men now call Hollin. I brushed those thoughts aside. Now, at the height of this mild, September day, I should be happy. This was the Third Age, 1401, not the Second. I had no time to meddle with the past, only with the present and the future. Little did I know my peaceful day was to change.

"Master Erestor!" called a voice. I turned. It was a messenger, clothed in blue and silver- the colours of Lindon where I now lived. His hair was a dark brown, and his skin peach and fair.

"Mae govannen!" I said in turn. "What is the purpose of your arrival? He finally approached me, and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

"The following is a message from Lord Elros of Mithlond to Master Erestor of Harlindon." He cleared his throat. "Greetings, Master Erestor. We have met only once, following your arrival from the unfortunate incident at Eregion." I tensed. "Under certain circumstances, I must summon you to Mithlond itself at once. Considering your distance of about 10 kilometres outside the city, it shouldn't be much trouble. During this time of danger, I must call upon you for help. Once there, the purpose of your calling shall be explained. Thank you for your your cooperation. Namárië."

I thought for a moment. What could this mean?

"So I am to leave now, and take nothing?" I asked the messenger.

"It appears that way," he replied. "I can take you, and you shall be cared for at Mithlond, courtesy of the Lord Elros." I could not ignore the summons of the lord, and nor did I mean to.

"Very well," I said. "Lead on."

"Excellent," returned the messenger. I nabbed my boots from my home and set off for the Grey Havens.

Within a couple of hours, we arrived at the majestic gates of East Mithlond. The messenger led me through the small crowds in the fair streets to a large building off the right of the gardens of the city. The architecture was prominent and beautiful, with tall pillars holding the domed roof, statues of Gil-galad and Elendil standing tall and proud. We hiked up the spiral stair in the centre of the monument and into a quiet, sunlit room.

"That will be all, Amroth, thank you," said a deep voice behind me. The messenger, apparently Amroth, left quickly. I turned. "Greetings, Erestor. I have been awaiting your arrival. Did the road trouble you?" A tall Elf, with a gold circlet on his head was seated on a simple birch chair. He gripped a golden goblet, full of a dark red liquid, that looked like wine. His robes were intricate and a light brown. His hair was darker than Amroth's, almost black.

"Not at all," I said uncertainly. The Elf laughed.

"Forgive me, what a great host I have come to be. I am Elros, a minor lord under Círdan." I bowed quickly. "Stand, stand. There is no need for such actions at this time." He sighed. "Time, time. Time is something we have too little of," he said, leaning toward me. "It's about time I ask what I called you here for."

I listened closely. "Tell me, what do you know of Angmar?" he questioned.

"Angmar, my lord? I know it is a dead kingdom, destroyed by the variance of the Ñoldor and Men," I answered. "It has been this way for an age. It is a cold, desolate tundra, where the skies are dark and the earth frozen." Elros nodded.

"About the climate, you are right," he said. "But a dead kingdom? No. We once thought this, but we were proven wrong." He waved his hand over a map of Eriador dotted with black crowns of Angmar and silver stars of Lindon. "Each of those crowns is where an Orc invasion took place, and the Orcs won. A silver star is where we and our allies successfully defended against an attack or defeated an army. Scouts have gone to both Mount Gundabad and Angmar in the north, and both are occupied by Orc legions. Angmar, with Gundabad as its patron, is on the rise." He paused. What on earth did he want me do do about this?

Elros pointed to an Angmar crown in the former kingdom of Rhudaur, just north of Imladris. "This is, or was, the last known Dúnedain village of Eriador. Recently, it was overrun by Orcs that scouts from Rivendell tracked from the Coldfells. Led by, strangely, not an Uruk as we had thought, but, rather, a mountain troll. This one seemed of higher stock than its more dim brethren. Contacts in the Rangers of the North report multiple attacks led my this beast- named the mountain troll chieftain."

I started to feel poorly. I knew where this was going, but why me?

"I would have our warriors take it down, but they must patrol our borders, making sure Angmar and Gundabad will not assault us nor the Ered Lindon," continued Elros. "I would ask others with more experience, but most of them are departing for Valinor. But you, you are known to prefer Middle-earth to the Isle of Aman." I nodded. This was true, even with the terrors of Middle-earth, such as the one I witnessed in Eregion, I loved my land.

"And so I ask you now, desperately, will you help me take this chieftain down?" asked Elros. I thought. I was no fighter, but a gardener, not even a smith. But I had run from danger before. This was the time to pay the Enemy back for the destruction of my former home, Eregion. Then I made my decision.

"My lord, I will do what I can," I said confidently. "But I will need supplies and a bit of guidance. So I ask you now- can you help me?" Elros smiled.

"I will do what I must, and gladly!" he replied. "Head first to the Shire, for food you must gain. It will be a long and bitter journey, and the environment will not be kind, especially in the coming winter. Then, return! There are more preparations to be made. I give you the blessing of the Ñoldor!" With that, I took my leave.

It was time for an adventure. A little something I had not had in an age. It was time to show the World that even the smallest person could change the course of the future.