battle

To Rûndis, my Moonlight,

I do not know where to start. Yesterday we took the hardest blow yet, and it was all my fault.

I should have known our mission was doomed long ago. Every signal was right there from the start… The bandits who followed us, the poisoner who attacked me in Rivendell, the map being stolen… Perhaps we should have listened to the Elves, after all.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

♦

This story continues from Part III: The Old Outpost in the North. 

♦

(This RP is done via DM friend of mine and lots of dices rolls)



Night fell like a wolf’s shadow upon the Gap of Rohan.

The stars were swallowed by storm clouds, and the wind ran cold through the hills. On that narrow pass between the White Mountains and Isengard’s ruined scars, a war born of whispers began.

Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there.

Laying down in my bed just feeling my own silence and the sound of the water falling from a near place.

Battles have appeared since long time ago. Maybe becouse a piece of land and the ambition of some people, maybe a treason, pain, marriage, and many other things, some of which I can't even mention. Maybe becouse of hate, maybe becouse of twisted love for others or for oneself.  

‘Hello, Lord of the Black Land of Mordor, the Land of Shadow!’ I called in ringing tones.  ‘Let the wicked King Sauron come forth and do battle with us, the Host of the West, the Captains of the West, the Bearers of the Last Ring, the Lords of the West!’