The Book

Dear Reader,

You hold in your hands the testament of many of the Fourth Age at its beginning. When the new era dawned, peace lay over the lands, and old hurts began to be healed, old enmities repaired, cooperation between the enemies of old began anew.

It was a time of bliss, a time in which one could ride day and night and fear no danger nor meet any foe. A happy time that was all too short-lived.

When the last of the Ringbearers departed from the Gray Havens, it was accepted in our Realm that the Age of Sauron and the Rings had passed, and so it had. But the wisest among us all realized that an heir is always left behind, and so the great works are passed, father to son, mother to daughter, Dark Lord to foul heir . . .

And so the time came when we must once again rise against the Dark Lord's legacy, and find our own inheritance in so doing. We were the ones who discovered the existence of that which Sauron's heir most coveted, and we set out to gain this treasure before the minions of Mordor could. This is our story . . .

In these times, when darkness began to creep once again, tainting the lands and casting shadows over the tenuous peace, the Council of the Wise met. Information had been brought to them concerning a thing of power even more potent than the One Ring had been. If Sauron's heir were to find the three parts that formed the whole, his forces would easily gain complete dominion over the whole of Middle Earth.

The item in question was no mere sword or Ring of Power, but a gem consisting of three crystals: one green, one white, and one silver. The three stones on their own possessed considerable powers: the green, to heal; the white, to predict the future; the silver, to prolong life. It was in their joining that they formed one perfect black crystal, called the Anachron, which when wielded by one wise in its use could enable the user to command armies, control hearts, and most importantly, travel through time and to other realms.

Sauron's heir would like nothing better than to alter history in his favor.

So the Council of the Wise dispatched its emissaries to the far corners of the Realm, to seek the missing crystals before the Dark Lord's heir found them, and to warn all races. A fellowship was brought together to undertake the quest for the Anachron. It was I, Edric the Golden, who was sent first to the Elves.

Chapter One

Darkness Seeps In

Ayala, the Elf from Mirkwood, stood and looked at the remains of Lothlorien. Once, she thought, it was beautiful, but now that everyone is gone it seems empty.

She walked around, watching the leaves as they fluttered to the ground. A single tear fell down to join them.

"How much has changed since this Fourth Age has begun, I wonder," she said outloud. "It seems that everyone has left. Yet I know that is not true. Legolas is still in Middle Earth if rumors I have heard are true. Yet what shall it be like without my parents and Ayon? Alas! Ayon, my brother! You traveled with me so long, yet your longing for the Sea was far greater than mine! At last your dream came true, and you sailed with Elrond!" Ayala turned and looked beyond the forest, dreaming of the Sea. "One day I shall rejoin you all, my dear family, but my journey in Middle Earth is still far from over, I fear!" Ayala continued to stand silent. Her hair still shone golden in the sun. She still wore the brown and green of Mirkwood. Only her eyes, sky blue, showed the pain of loss and loneliness she had felt. She finally shook herself from her reverie.

"Farewell, my dear friends and family! For us who stay on Middle Earth must face the new evil approaching, but one day we shall come! Farewell!"

Ayala left Lothlorien.

***

Syntoc the Green was also dispatched to warn all of the upcoming war with the heir of Sauron, but since he could think of no other place to go, he traveled to Rivendell. He was the first to arrive at the council. It was proclaimed that all who wished to defeat the heir's forces were to meet there for council. Syntoc sat at the table, waiting for his fellow Councilmen of the Wise, Elves, Dwarves, and all others alike to arrive.

***

Edric had been traveling for many days, and was weary with the dust of the road. As he drew near to Rivendell, his spirit lifted, as if the sun came out from behind a cloud.

Upon descending into the valley, Edric was met by the sound of a lone voice in song. The song was plaintive, an Elven tale of unrequited love. The Wizard had never heard its like before.

An Elf swung down to greet him. "I welcome you, Edric."

A slow smile crept across Edric's face, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners.

"Legolas." Edric inclined his head, leaning a little on his staff tiredly. "A fair welcome and a sad but lovely song. We have much to discuss, my friend. I humbly ask your escort the House of Elrond.

"Syntoc the Green has also arrived here, Edric," Legolas said to the Wizard. "The proclamation has gone out through all the lands. The Dwarves travel hither, and the Halflings, though they know it not. With the Wood Elves of Mirkwood we will take council, and the Men of Minas Tirith." His words trailed away as two beloved to him came to mind: Gimli, his comrade of old; and Ayala, whom he loved and had not seen since before the Great War. He did not know if she still dwelt in this realm, or had heeded the inexorable call of the Sea, had the Music of the Ainur drawn her away, as it had so many others? Legolas had been making ready for a quest of his own, to find her, fairest of the fair she was, shining like a lantern in the Dark Wood.

His heart was heavy, yet his merry words did not betray him as they reached Elrond's haven. Food and drink were awaiting the earliest arrivals, but Legolas did not join them, wishing for solitude he slipped out again, seeking solace among the silent trees.

***

On the same day that Edric the Golden was met by Legolas and entered Rivendell, Bain the Warhammer set forth from Erebor with his most trusted General and companion, Larz Oakenshield. Their destination was Minas Tirith, but many stops would be made along the way, alerting villages and towns that Sauron had left an heir, and that evil once again lived and threatened all. Forces must not be caught unawares this time, plans must be laid in advance, strongholds fortified, armies rallied, and soldiers trained.

The came first to the Men of Dale and told them all the Wizard who had come to the Lonely Mountain had told to Bain. Bain had been King Under the Mountain twenty years now, and a great spirit of cooperation had been forged with the people of Dale. Bain's kinsmen owed them much, and their two peoples shared good fortune.

They came to the Inn and were ushered in with hale greetings, but silence soon fell when their grim faces were seen.

The bells began to ring as the King Under the Mountain and his trusted warrior came forth, and mulled wine and mead were made ready for them at the Inn. The Men of Dale gathered to hear them speak, knowing the news would be of grim portent.

Though they dwelt in the shadow of Erebor, sometimes the news was scant. The days of harsh words between the Dwarves and Men were over.

"Come, Warhammer, tell us your tale," spoke Graneld, the Innkeeper.

***

Marigold grumped and wiped the sweat from her neck for what seemed to be hundredth time that day. It wasn't even noon, yet the sun was already blistering all. She was digging out potatoes for that night's supper at the Green Dragon, which was run by her mother. The pile in her basket looked dismally small.

"Why can't Digger be made to do this for once instead of me?" she growled to herself. Digger Gamgee was her mother's other employee, the one who actually got a salary. And he had the luck of being sent to fish; he was probably dangling his toes in the cool water right now, smoking some pipe-weed. She found several more large taters and plopped them into the basket, standing for a moment to stretch her back.

Insects hummed in the bushes, and heat shimmered over all. In unison, the songs of the insects came to an abrupt halt. An eerie silence had fallen.

Marigold felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Somewhere a pair of eyes was watching her.

She scanned every inch of her surroundings until all at once she saw. Huge eyes of the deepest green, staring out of-

She gave a sharp cry of amazement and approached the creature looking at her.

"Well, there's a tree that wasn't there before," she remarked merrily. This was an Ent, one of the creatures she had pestered her Uncle Pippin to tell her more about. She moved closer and bowed to it.

The Ent spoke to Marigold in deep and sonorous tones, yet there was a lilt to its words that made her wonder.

"Are you a female Ent?" she inquired timidly. After a long diatribe from the Ent on what was considered female, Marigold discerned that this was indeed an Entwife.

Well, the other Ents have been waiting for your return for I daresay quite some time! My Uncle Pippin told me all about your kind, and how they could disappear altogether without some young 'uns-"

"Entings," corrected the Ent.

"Yes, yes, Entings. Come with me. My uncle would love to speak to you." Marigold ushered the creature toward her uncle's Hobbit hole, which wasn't far down the lane.

"Ooh," she chattered to herself, "he's going to mighty excited by this!"

Peregrin Took was indeed excited; anything that could rouse him from his place by the fire in his old age would have to be extraordinary.

"Marigold," he uttered. "Take this Entwife to the mouth of the Entwash, take her to her people," uttered Pippin.

An adventure! Marigold rushed back to the Green Dragon, telling her mother all in a rush everything that had happened. There was dark disapproval in her mother's eyes when Marigold asked to accompany the Ent.

"Have you taken all leave of your senses, Marigold?" asked Pansy, looking dourly at the Ent. "I can't deny this is a marvelous creature," she added hastily, "and, of course, I want to see her find her mate, but you can't just go off half-cocked like this, not to mention I need your help around here."

"But Uncle Pippin-"

"I'm quite sure he thought it was a grand idea. I just think it's best left to someone well-traveled to take the Ent on such a long journey."

"But he said I should be the one! I found her!"

"It isn't safe, Marigold, and that's my final word. Where are those potatoes now?"

With the Ent's leave, Doireann lit in its highest branches. She fixed her multi-faceted eyes upon the Inn. If Marigold were to leave the Shire, Doireann would accompany her. And somehow Doireann knew it would go Marigold's way this time in spite of her mother's inevitable protestations.

The Ent was the most pleasant of creatures, and Doireann delighted in speaking to it.

Pansy's face softened, and, at last, she relented. Marigold would have her own life, be it sooner or later.

"You're to take Doireann with you, and a Shirriff part of the way, and once you've delivered the Ent to the mouth of the Entwash, you're to come straight home."

She watched Marigold's face light up. Pippin was going to be mighty pleased, the old codger. He'd go himself if his joints allowed him to travel without pain. Pansy helped Marigold pack and saw her to the road.

"Be careful," she said sadly and hugged her daughter. "And send Doireann back with news."

***

Ayala looked up the moon and stood silent for several seconds. She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled, not loud, yet strangely piercing. In several seconds, a horse, white with a soft blue glow, approached Ayala.

"Come, my friend Pegasus. I must travel in haste to Rivendell for an important meeting. Will you carry me?"

The horse bowed her head.

"Thank you," said Ayala. "One moment."

Ayala looked to the sky and held up her hand. A hawk landed next to her.

"Wiyuan. You are one of the fastest of the Great Hawks of Middle Earth. Will you be able to carry this message to Rivendell? Pegasus is fast, but not enough to reach Rivendell today."

"I shall go as fast the currents allow for thee," said Wiyuan. Ayala gave the message to her.

"Be careful, for the skies may not be as safe as before. Farewell, Wiyuan!"

"Farewell, Ayala! Make haste to Rivendell!"

Ayala watched as Wiyuan flew away, then she mounted Pegasus. Without a word, the horse was off.

That evening, Wiyuan reached Rivendell and saw a single Elf amongst the trees. She flew down slowly so as not to startle him and recognized him as Legolas Greenleaf.

"I bid thee a fair evening, Legolas! I have brought a message from Ayala Proudbow." Wiyuan gave the message to the Elf. It read:

My friends in Rivendell,

I have received the call to the meeting. When you receive this message I will be two days away, if I have guessed right. I ride Pegasus, daughter of Shadowfax, yet she is not as fast as her father was. Do not delay for me, for I fear evil shall follow my heels.

Ayala

***

"Hail, Syntoc, old friend!" Edric greeted his fellow Wizard and Council member. "Though dark times may be coming, the shadows have not touched fair Rivendell yet. I fear we may wait long, emissaries from many races are only now setting out for this fair valley." Edric took a seat beside Syntoc.

"What think you of the latest stirrings in Mordor?" he asked, his voice pitched low so only Syntoc could hear him.

"Times are going to be rough indeed, my friend Edric." Syntoc held his voice to a quite tone. "I am afraid Middle Earth is again about to be devastated. I am getting far too old for this, Edric."

***

In the most shadowed depths of Mirkwood, a long Elf wended her way down the well-traveled road, heeding the call to Rivendell. An unearthly silence penetrated, making the darkness deeper and palpable. Emer knew that eyes from afar watched the movements of many, seeking the ones that could be twisted to evil, undone.

The Elf's passing made no sound, and she stopped to climb lithely to the top of a tree, gazing out over the canopy. All appeared well, still there was the feeling of being watched, even stronger in the light. She descended gracefully, pressing on until the edge of Mirkwood came into view.

***

The heir to Sauron's throne was mightily pleased with his labors. The Dark Tower had risen once again, and spies covered the land, his many eyes watching in the most covert of ways, in places unsuspected, seeking the hearts that wavered, looking for weakness. All would be brought into the fold, until the darkness covered all as it was meant to be.

A massive breeding program was underway to restore the depleted numbers of the fighting Uruk-Hai, and Intathin had two of the Palantiri in his keeping, his gaze extending even further. He knew that the Council met in Rivendell, and he had sent one of his own most trusted to be his eyes and ears there. If they failed, they would be summarily executed and made an example of. Intathin would not repeat the mistakes of the past; Sauron had gazed afar instead of keeping vigil on his own doorstep.

He knew that the Dwarves had one of the three crystals of the Anachron, and their party was now in Dale. It was unlikely that they carried this precious treasure on their persons; there was no treasury in the all the Realm that could keep Intathin from finding it, and he would seek long, until he uncovered its location and that of the other two, and he would take them, or Armageddon would begin.

***

Draco shifted in his saddle. His horse seemed as eager to be gone as he was, though he knew not why, only that destiny called and he must follow.

He gazed up the walled city of Minas Tirith, which had been restored to its former splendor after the Great War of the Ring. The King had ruled long and well, and peace lay over the land, but Draco knew it was not for long. No one would listen to him, and the people were content and prosperous, but he could not shake the feeling of foreboding that pervaded his every waking thought and insinuated itself into his dreams. There was a deep well of power within, and he would ignore it no longer, knowing there was danger in untrained thought, and that his will could be bent by another as long as he remained uneducated.

So he set off to seek one who could teach him, young, alone, and fearful, though his prideful stance would not betray it. It grieved him to leave the city where his Grandfather had once held the Stewardship, Denethor who had ruled in the King's stead until his return.

Of all the lands in the Realm, Gondor bore the fruits of peace most, but Draco knew in his heart it would not remain so unless all remained vigilant. Where he would go next, he did not know, he trusted that the Fates would guide him, and his own innate sense of what he sought would open the path ahead.

Off he rode, the summer sunshine warm on his back, and idyllic quiet over the land, and he tried not to think of the bleak days that would eventually come, and of all that they would foretell.

***

He watched the whole scene unravel to him, and he laughed. His plan was working perfectly, so far. He felt the Eye watching him, but not understanding. In time, he would reveal himself . . . only in time.

***

In the farthest North, many miles from any of the civilized races, a lone figure walked slowly southward. In his black raiment it appeared as though a shadow, freed from the body of its owner, walked alone over the hills of snow.

A closer would reveal that this figure appeared to be a Human male, though Human he definitely was not. His true race was known only to those who knew of his past, and those who had heard the long, dark tale of his past in its entirety could be counted on one hand. Those few people also knew that in times such as these, when this person would travel openly in daylight such as he was now, great misfortune would befall the minions of evil . . . He had been a thorn in the sides of all that were evil since the days of Melkor.

As the traveled, he thought back to a few nights ago, when he had been stirred out of his long idleness. The only reason he could think of for what had happened was that the Valar were behind it . . . The Powers of the West had called upon him once again.

He thought of that night many times.

The dream had seemed so real . . .

He had seen Rivendell and Minas Tirith, Edoras and Lothlorien, and many other places throughout Middle Earth. He had seen all these places and their people, living in a new peaceful age . . . An age without the taint of Sauron. He had then seen all of those places consumed by fire in the blink of an eye. Out of the fire arose a single object, which slowly began to take shape . . . The Dark Tower.

"So, Sauron has left an heir," he said to himself, which would be the only thing he would say for many days.

He could not let the dream become a reality. He would head first to Rivendell, and he would try to find others to aid him. He would find Sauron's heir, and he would destroy him . . . Alone, if necessary, or he would die trying, if such was his doom.

After many days and many miles, he was coming nigh to Rivendell. Hopefully, he would receive a warm welcome, seeing as how he had not been there in many years, and Master Elrond had gone over the Sea . . . Hopefully, he could find others who would aid him in the dark times to come .. .

Hopefully . . . He would prevail against the Enemy . . .

And so began the next quest of the Wanderer.

Disclaimer: This story is the novelization of an old roleplaying game. The world of Arda and the characters of Legolas, Arwen, and Elrond were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, and are property of his estate, I think. This story was also a crossover, so the following characters and concepts are from other books. I will introduce those as they come in, as well as any characters that come in later from the Tolkien books that I forgot to list here. The original characters were all created by the person who played them. For a full list of who played who, including characters from the various books, e-mail me at [email protected].