Tales from Middle Earth

Thought it would be good to have somewhere that people could create their own tales from Middle Earth. There are lots and lots of things that we have very sketchy information about, sometimes a date and a couple of names to go with an event. Would be good if we between us we could add a little more colour to some of these with our own versions of what may have happened at a certain time or in a certain place. Think that these should be quite short and depict something specifc, however if you are on a roll then dont stop!

The sweet scents of the Garden of Gondor were known for their intoxicating effect on the nose. Deep reds and light blues, bright yellows and dark greens bombarded the eyes. The afternoon summer sun provided deep warmth to the body. The sounds of birdsong finished this assault on the senses. And although there was always so much to feel and see and hear, one could not help but feel at ease with the world.
This was well as the company passed through. Seven hundred men were the rearguard of the last Gondorian forces passing between the Tower of the Moon and the Citadel of the Host of Stars. Only one of them now stood. Only seven days had gone by since the servants of the Dark Tower issued from the high passes of Cirith Ungol on to the Morgul road. Now the white marble streets and towers of Minas Ithil no longer shone but were littered with the bodies of those valiant enough to give their lives in its defence.
Elatan was one of those that now formed part of the rearguard and had fought on the streets until the retreat was sounded. He had left everything behind, although nothing of monetary value, to be defiled by the filth and unrelenting rage of the enemy.
It hadn’t taken them long to reach the crossroads and the forward camps of the Gondorian army. Prince Earnur himself had issued from Osgiliath with a large force, however had not yet reached the front and would have too little force to retake the city. Elatan knew the military was a shadow of its former glory. With the north kingdom gone and Gondor’s population decimated by plague, even the shrunken lands that now constituted the realm of the South Kingdom would be hard to defend. Luckily, many of the enemy had also experienced similar set backs and so a short time of reprieve would be at hand.
Like many of the soldiers of Minas Ithil, Elatan would be redeployed to other areas where there was plenty of room. Osgiliath, Pelargir, Minas Anor and all of the wide lands around could all use the strength of men against the growing skirmishes that came from the South, East or North. It seemed that him as its allies dwindled, enemies became ever more numerous.
As he trudged forward, he could see the same look on the faces of his comrades. Each had fought hard and lost much. The curse of men may be the only respite from the sorrows that seemed ever to gnaw at them.
He took a deep breath and looked up. The sights and sounds and scent of the land once again infused him and he felt glad. The call of a great horn came from ahead. The company moved aside the road and marvelled as a great banner of Gondor led a company if horsed men along the road. The white tree flowed against the deep blue background. The seven stars glistened in the sunlight. Prince Earnur himself rode amidst the company, tall and strong he looked.
Hope was not lost. It would be many years before the strength of men failed and Elatan felt sure that if it did, the cities of Gondor would be the last to fall.

truly gorgeous Lance, I was right there hearing the great banners flow in the wind, and the metalic rythmn of bits and bridles as the war horses rode away. sigh.

Rosemary groaned and straightened her back, she had been working in her garden all that morning and the sun had started to burn her neck through her tan. She wearily wiped her face with the back of her weather beaten hand, hands that had tilled and dug the land for many years. Rosemary looked around to see her sisters rising from their toils, in an unspoken agreement they gathered under the apple orchard and took refreshment. It was too hot to continue that day, so Rosemary slumbered, her sky blue eyes slowly closing amidst the drowzy bee filled air. Rosemary dreamt, always the same dream, always the same fear and something lost, she was searching searching but never found Him, Treebeard.

I wasnt sure if that was going to be a hobbit until the end.

Poor entwives have lost the ents too!!

Nobody knew her name, nobody really cared to know. Except one, but he was gone.

In the last hours, she had bathed with him in the river near their small home. She had dressed him and stood back, proud of who he was, but sad of where he was going. They had talked of the quiet life they would have when he returned and they had eaten a last meal together.

She had wept as he left joined by other women and children of the land. But now she was silent. The fabric of her small tent fluttered in the breeze.

She debated with herself whether they made the right choice for him to leave instead of run away together. But they had seen what His men did to those that were caught. The local chieftans had also assured that this would be the final ride North before they would be troubles no more. That maybe soon they could move aweay from the heat and thirst of the desert.

It had been almost two hundred times the sun had risen and set since he left and no sign had been seen until today. As scatterings of men returned all over the land, she finally knew she would not see her brave man again.

The night was pitch black and bitterly cold, a treacherous mist had crept stealthily into the hollow where he lay, and had wrapped its deathly fingers round his sleeping body. The man stirred in his sleep and tried to press himself closer to the earth, the shivering finally broke his sleep and he awoke suddenly and completely. His hand found his sword hilt, the cold iron felt like a friend in the Wild. He lay on his back and looked up unblinking into the night, Menelmacar blazed above his head and Valacirca swung like a silver chariot racing through the night, he knew the hour only by a glance at the stars, it was hours from the dawn, but he knew that he must be on his feet or perish from the cold. He made a small fire huddling his long arms round himself until the shivering that had made his jaw ache had stopped. He heard the call of a lonely wild bird and heaved a great sigh, the life of a Dunedain is a lonely one, but that call meant a Brothers approach.

It was dark. Not as dark as the memory of everything before, but still dark.

It did not know what it could see for it had no memory of such things. All before this moment was an endless void. Shapes moved all around. Something seemed to accomany the movement of the trees, something that resonated inside itself behind the area that made it see.

In an instant, it realised it was more than that which made it see. There was shape and by thought parts of its shape could be made to move but the effort made it feel weak for it took concentration to make those things move.

Overwhelming senses bombarded the area around it eyes. Above and around its shape was open and free, yet below was hard. The open area above seemed to move but could not be seen. Sometimes the movement would make its body shake, which could not be stopped.

It also felt something else that it did not know. A cold, desperate feeling. Unknowing and lost. It was scared.

ooh whats that Lance? I am trying to guess what 'It' is? or who it is.
Is it Gandalf on the mountain after he returns from the other place?

Not Gandalf.... think further back in time.

really like this pic of Eomer and Gandalf.

If its from the Sillymillyron, I havent read it Lance. I do try to ever so often. its on my bookshelf looking dusty. well I have read bits of it.

It was attempting to describe the awakening of the first elf. Not that we would be able to comprehend what it would feel like being 'switched on' with nothing or nobody there to teach or comfort or help us in any way.