Fields Of Glory Chronicles: "Birth Of A Legend (I) "

Gryphis was sitting down at Frodo's Hut enjoying a drink of some fine juice. Surrounded by a group of kids, some with their parents, he was nagged on constantly:
- Come on! Tell us a tale, storyteller! - kids screamed
- Oh my, my... - Gryphis sighed - There is no escaping it, am I right?
- Nooo! - all kids said in a uniform voice
- Tell us of Banor! Please! Pretty Pleaaase! - A little Timmy plead

Everyone looked at Gryphis with hopeful eyes, only waiting to hear another of the grand, captivating stories. All but one. Gorn wasn't very fond of the whole idea of great fights, glorious heroes and "all that magic stuff" as he called it.
- Another fake tale, is it then? - he frowned at Gryphis to everyone's disapproval - Beanor, Banor, whoever the guy is, never existed. It's just a bed time story for brainwashing kids into the knighthood. You heard it all to often and it must have messed up your brain.

The little crowd quietened down and looked angrily at Gorn.
- Very well - Gryphis broke the silence - Why don't you sit with us and see for yourself what a humble storyteller like me has to say?

Gorn frowned again, but he grabbed a chair and sat down - 'there ain't much more I will do this evening anyway... not much to lose either way' - he though to himself.

- Okay - Gryphis sighed and looked kids deeply in their eyes, one by one as he spoke - Hear ye! Hear ye! What a tale is here to be told! For it is as true as the moonlight in the evening and the sun during day! Listen in closely. This is about what happened long ago. This is why we are here...
"The ancient scriptures and writings of old,
Hold wisdom and power of stories untold.
Stories with which, Oh' heavens be blessed!
Of when our courage been put to a test.

This one begineth in a Dwarfish rock,
Where crowds of many were running amock,
So weary of danger that drew in so near,
So paralysed with mortal, unforgiving fear.

And so in this time a Hero is born,
That'll bring back Unity to these lands so torn.
A Hero who's voice in human hearts rung,
Of whom to this day, great hymns are being sung.

He, who'll put hope in hearts of all men.
And this story, my children, begins right there and then..."

A little rat quickly ran across a long corridor down into the heart of the mountain. Stone walls, held up by golden pillars carved into faces of old kings, echoed with its tiny footsteps. Lit torches that hung from the grand walls shone light down onto the marble floors and the chandeliers hanging up from above gave Dwarven Kingdom and incredible feel.

- Get you' head outta that elvish ass of yours! - a beaming shout thundered down the halls
- You won't speak to me in that tone of voice, midget! - quick answer embraced in a dignified tone came right after - Know your place.
An old dwarf was holding on tight to his steel, double handed axe, attempting to look the blonde elf in the eyes. It was a rather difficult task, as he was outgrown by about four heads, himself. He frowned his generous eyebrows and rose his nose up high to face the undesired companion.
- I think I know my place, you stuck up longear! This is Kazordoon, you ar' in my home, ay! Better watch that pretty mouth of yours, or' my Rusty may go lil' twitchy! - the halfhigh pointed his eyes to the weapon he firmly held in a powerful grip
- You know better... - the elf replied placing his hand on the handle of his buckled blade - ... than to threat an elven-born. We protected these lands for ages, before you were fathered!
- Ay, really? Shall we find out then!? - the roar of the short warrior once again filled the stone auditorium.
- Silence! - an authoritative voice commanded from the other side of the room - You are not here to fight one another! The enemy is out there! - the tall man pointed in the northern direction - Now the two of you keep it together. You are putting your armies to shame!

Dwarf and elf reluctantly stepped back eyeing each other threateningly. The dwarf mumbled something under his plentiful moustache as he turned to face a group of his shorter kind, causing quite a commotion in the group. All of the dwarves seemed to be equipped with finest masterpieces of dwarven smithery - armour that kings would not be shamed to wear. Beautifully carved weapons - swords, axes, lances and heavy hammers - and each had a shield attached unto their backs, every single one marked with a symbol of a black hammer.

- Falan'thiel - the tall man looked at the elf and nodded at him - Come over for a moment, please.
The elven warrior strode magnificently. As he was walking across the room, it was obvious he lacked the awkwardness of dwarves, which was replaced by graceful moves of his agile body. A silver-fitted bow on his back and a long green cape were adding a mysterious feel to his whole silhouette as he moved in closer.
- Do you know where he is? - the tall man continued
- I have received a carrier pigeon from Ab'Dendriel - Falan'theil replied - He and the Carlin army has been sighted and should be with us any day soon.
- That is good to hear, indeed. I am starting to grow restless... there is something in the air... something evil - the man sighted.

The elf rose his hand and put it down on the man's shoulder
- Araman, he will be here. Do not let your heart be weary - he spoke - This is what evil seeks - the elf looked back at the dwarf company and frowning upon them, he continued - I am not fond of these creatures, though. They look undisciplined and we can deal with orcs ourselves.
- Falan'theil - Araman replied calmly - I assure you I know about your dislike of dwarves and if the situation did not call for it, I would not ask you to stand here with them, old friend.

The little rat run down the corridor and peeked through a hole in the stone wall. Reaching its nose out and through to the massive auditorium filled with dwarves and elves it began sniffing around for food. In the middle of the room stood mighty, wooden tables, all plentiful and flowing with finest delicates of the mountain - freshly roasted hog meat, soft cheese chalices of mead filled to the rim and layers upon layers of fresh grapes, apples and any fruit a hungry soul could desire. The whole room was bathed in light of golden chandeliers hanging up from above, torches attached to the massive walls and hundreds of candles spread across the room's corners and on the table. By the walls, stood a whole line of armour sets that seemed almost alive thanks to the glittering lights of the fire that dances around in the chimney. The rat made its way into the room with its tiny, but quick footsteps.

- The bloody tall-face is asking for a punch, tha's what he's in fo'! - the beardy dwarf whispered to his companions
- Morin, keep it calm, ol' friend - one of the company replied - We promised Araman to give shelter to these... elves - he paused with a clear feeling of disgust on his face
- I say we kick 'em out! This is our homeland! - a ginger halfhigh grinded his teeth
- Ay! - The company replied gruntingly
- Ther' iz no place for the longearses 'here! Send 'em back to Ab'Den... town! - Shouted one of the dwarves raising his hammer up in the air - Pests!

The elvish warriors, armed with short, silver blades and finely curved bows truly were some of the best hunters in these lands. Their sight and tracking skills were truly unmatched - that is, of course, if they chose to keep their natural cool. This remark of dwarves, along with a raised hammer was, however, like a little drop of water that tipped the ocean's tides.
The dwarven company stepped forward up to the elves, each of the ten-or-so firmly raising their heavy weapon. With incredibly quick and agile movements, the elves took the bows off their backs and reaching to their quivers they readied to fire a shot. Only now, could the true beauty of the elvish bow-craft be seen in the well lit room. A dangerous beauty.
The two companies faced each other readying to hack, slash, pierce... - the fight could be smelled up in the air and the tension almost made it hard to breathe.

- You pesky midget, what did you say!? - Falan'theil whistled angrily through his teeth - I dare you, say it one more time...
- I sai' you get ya friends and getta hell outta 'ere! - beamed the ginger dwarf
- We are not here on our own accord, dwarf! If it was up to me, our foot would never set upon this cursed mountain!
- How dare you... ! - the dwarves raised their thundering voices that now echoed down the powerful halls
Elves pulled in on their bows and got ready to fire. The dwarven company raised their weapons and holding tight to them charged at the unwelcome guests. As they ran, the little rat has been lost under the medley of stomping footsteps. The axe had been swung...

The hall filled with a loud noise of breaking stone as the gigantic doors swung open and hit the walls. Dwarves and elves stopped for a second and stared at the newly arrived figure in all its majestics. Araman along with his Thaian knights knelt down bowing their heads as the figure stepped closer. Complete silence engulfed the room where no one dared say a word or whisper even. The only thing that could have been heard were strong footsteps of the newly arrived guest as he moved down the hall. His golden-plated armour shone divine giving out light of his own. At his buckle, a long, generously gemmed blade could be seen swinging with every footstep. His blonde hair almost glimmered in the candlelight as he moved by.

Morin, shocked and puzzled by the elves putting down their bows and bowing their heads, mumbled crudely:
- Who are ya, newcomer? - as he said that he felt eyes of everyone in the room right on him
The tall, blonde man hasn't replied a word. Instead, with a manner of a King... God almost, he moved forward and walked up to the dwarven general. Uncertain halfhighs instinctively moved back, not quite understanding why this man's simple gestures have got such an immense, commanding power. As they stepped back, their feet moved over from the rat that has been squished unto the marble floor just a few moments ago - an innocent, by-standing victim of their rage.
The tall man looked down, knelt before its crumbled body and swooshing it into his gentle hands he rose up again into the light of the candles. Now, standing right in front of everyone in the room, he placed his other hand over the little creature's body and bringing it up to his face, he blew in between his hands. A dim light started to shine from in between his fingers and the rat's tail that was hanging off the man's hand twitched.

The dwarves, astonished by what they saw, gave a loud cry of surprise and the elves stood and looked in awe at what was happening right in front of them.

The tall man put one of his hands down by his belt and held the other one close to his chest. The rat once again began to move, squeak and run along the arm of his saviour as if trying to thank him.
- Magic... - whispered one of the speechless dwarves

- My name is Banor - the tall man spoke with an incredibly gentle and surprisingly commanding voice - Son of Light. I called upon you all to come here and aid the world that is close to peril.
Everyone in the room, without exception fell down to their knees
- Be greeted, oh Great! - shouted Falan'theil bowing down onto the ground

Banor rose his hand and in a calm gesture signalled everyone to stand up:
- Please, do not bow to me, for it is you who listened to my call and came here - he smiled - I am eternally grateful to thee for your loyalty. Falan'theil, the King of Elves, Araman, the Lead Knight of Thais, Morin, the Great General of Kazordoon - he dignified each name as he looked upon the faces of the three - Please, come with me. We need to talk.

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Re: Fields Of Glory Chronicles: "Birth Of A Legend (I) "

< reserved >

*** During some of my chats with Roses, they suggested I put up a little of my writing up on the boards. Since I have had a sudden flow of inspiration, here go The Fields Of Glory Chronicles - if you like them, I will be more than happy to post up most parts of the story whenever it's ready ***
Last edited by Gryphis on Fri Dec 27, 2013 4:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Red Rose Codex | Guide For The Applicants | How To Write A Correct Application

» Falaén athümae yllenmo ai ahräth.