A/N: Okay, serious problems with my muse at the moment have lead to a prolonged time of writer's block. As such, I will be accepting any challenges or requests that you want to throw at me! Also, a friend suggested putting some of my random drabbles into a 'vault', anyone interested?

It had been a long held belief in the lands of Middle Earth that the First race to walk the lands had been the Elves. With their long lives, magic and grace gifted to them by the Valar, it only seemed logical that they would have been the first to experience the great plains and deep woods. As such, the role of guardians of the peace seemed to fall to them... though this assumption was far from the truth.

A little known fact about Middle Earth was that, the land itself, while drastically changed from what it had once been, was not new at all.

Before the Men, Elves and Dwarves had even been created, many other races had graced its surface, living their lives upon well known lands without any knowledge that, they too, were just another link in the long chain of existence. For, you see, no one truly remembers the beginning of time, and none can recall just how many times the lands had been remade, but there are a small few, a special few, who knew that it had.

This select group were known by many names over time, 'the faceless ones', 'titans', 'angels' and many, many more. In fact, they had been believed in, worshipped, changed and reinvented so many times that even they were beginning to lose track of who they truly were. Some of them had given up long ago, simply complying to the popular beliefs of the time, some of them still clung to the old ways so hard that they had quite locked themselves out of the present world and some... well, some had fallen.

In mortal minds, the idea of a Fallen had always been one of disgrace and of darkness, but this was yet another inaccuracy, purely a product of a fanciful imagination. In truth, with every reincarnation of the world, there were always some of the chosen who had found themselves growing tired of their roles, and it was these who chose to fall. As such, before any of the creatures created for this new plain had been sent to walk the earth, these chosen would form themselves material bodies and would establish their own settlement in a hidden corner of their choosing. From here they would act as peace-keepers, ensuring that the balance would be kept between the light and the darkness. Then, at the ending of the world, if any of them truly wished it, they would be allowed to fade, after choosing a replacement from the souls of this new plain.

As it was, shortly after the creation of Middle Earth, the small settlement of Carahs hin Gahl, or 'the city of light' grew into existence. Nestled deep in a valley high up in the mountains, it was never the most accessible place, its gleaming silver towers, looking to have been carved from the stone itself, were never visible until you passed the last ridge that marked the city's boundaries and the roads leading there were difficult for even the most experienced of travellers. Still, for the first age, while the lands were mostly at peace, it served as a great place of learning, the doors to the great library open to any and all who would seek the knowledge within.

However, such things are not meant to last and a great darkness began to sweep across the land, tarnishing all it touched. Fearing the damage that their knowledge could cause if it fell into the wrong hands, the leaders of the now great city withdrew from the rest of the world, and the gates were shut.

For many long years they remained as such, and without the constant flow of information, the stories of the 'silver city' soon fell into the shadow of legend until only the eldest amongst the living still remembered the truth to these tales. Instead of commanding the respect and awe that had once been the accepted due of the settlement, these stories became the wistful fantasies of scholars and children across the land, each of them dreaming of either the great knowledge locked in their vaults or the very presence of the Fey Courts that ruled there. And this was how the legacy of the chosen remained... until there came a time of a battle that would truly decide the fate of this world.

*LINE*LINE*LINE*

Deep in the rough stoned catacombs, a young woman paused, her body freezing mid motion as her silver eyes gazed blankly into nothing. Around her, her deep blue gown seemed to shift in a wind that blew only for her, dancing around her slight frame and pulling on her pale blond hair until it danced around her frozen face. Behind her eyes images stormed, battering each other in an attempt to gain her full attention.

A field of bodies bathed red in the setting sun.

The blood stained pennant of a proud horse on a torn background.

A burning eye that made her very soul freeze in terror from the sheer malice it projected. And worst of all, a white tree... it was burning.

For several long seconds she remained there, unmoving but for the hands that trembled by her sides. However, a second later her head snapped round and she began to race back up the steps that she had only just descended. She had to reach the council chamber and inform them of this new development for, at the very centre of these visions shone the image of her age-old friend, the young prince. With his raven locks and shining eyes, both darkened and marred by the familiar pain of war.

The time for detached observation was ending... and the time for them to interfere would soon begin.

A/N: A little short, I know, but this is only the prologue/ set up. What did you guys think? Oh, and I have no idea whether the city name is right, I just got it from a translator!

Edit: Credit to Dis Lexic for spotting some typos :)