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Chapter 1

The city of Amon Ereb lay silent as the night passed. A night watchman, or watch-dwarf, paced the walls, watching for the glimmer of an enemy’s armor, or the shadow of an assassin. Turning, he looked towards the keep, a stronghold dwelt in by the royal family. Manwe, Lord of the Noldor or the dwarven clans, ruled the city of Amon Ereb as the capital of his small kingdom. The royal family was small but consisted of Manwe, the king, his wife Firila, and his three children. His eldest son and heir was Fingon, 19 years old, and a strong axe-bearer and great warrior, the general of half the Noldor’s troops. Manwe’s second son was a 17 year old named Angrod, a silent, compassionate dwarf who thought before he acted. Angrod’s 14 year old sister, Finduilas, was a gentle creature, kind but firm, and could be a good leader in need. She was betrothed to the son of one of Manwe’s most trusted allies: Lord Virah. Now, Manwe, Firila, and Fingon slept in the keep, while Angrod and Finduilas were in the city of Nargothrond, a fortress under Manwe’s command. The soldier turned back as he heard a slight sound below him. Leaning over the wall, he peered down into the shadows, searching for something out of place.

Angrod paced his room, waiting for more news of the approaching army. That after noon, there had been a sighting of an army of 1,000 men approaching the city of Nargothrond. Angrod had hidden the fact from the general public, and the only people who knew were himself, his generals, and his sister, Finduilas. A knock on the door roused him from his thinking. Opening it, he was confronted by Thurgon, his general, and Finduilas, who were both garbed for war. An inquisitive look crossed Angrod’s face and Thurgon immediately nodded.

Yes sir, they’re here.

Angrod quickly turned, and within the next three minutes, he was wearing a chainmail vest, a leather jacket, iron gauntlets, a steel helm, and a blood-red cape. A long elven-made sword was strapped to his side. Nodding at Finduilas and Thurgon, Angrod swished past them and raced down the hall. A minute later, he arrived at a set of stairs which he followed down to ground level. From there, he climbed a ladder to the top of the wall. Seconds later, his sister and general arrived, breathless. Squinting into the night, Angrod saw it. A column of soldiers, orcs, marched through the valley, a golden standard at their head. Biting his lip, Angrod pivoted toward Thurgon.

 Rally the troops. We defend our people….wait. Send a messenger to Amon Ereb. My father will know what to do.

            Two hours later, the sun rose over Amon Ereb. The dwarf guard yawned, waiting for his replacement. Scratching his beard, he stretched his arms and began to rub his eyes. As he pulled his hands away, he involuntarily gasped. Winging towards him was a messenger pigeon, one of the most common means of long distance communication utilized by the rulers in this land. Whistling, the dwarf beckoned to the pigeon, which was trained to recognize the uniforms of Lord Manwe’s troops. Banking, the bird soared above before circling to land a few feet away from the dwarf. Reaching out, the dwarf gently unwrapped the message from around the bird’s leg. Unrolling it, he caught himself before starting to read it.

It’s a government affair, I shouldn’t read it without permission, he thought. He sighed. Just one little peek…

The dwarf unrolled it and began to read, furtively glancing about himself to make sure he was alone. This is what he read:

To Lord Manwe of Amon Ereb

From Thurgon, General of the Noldor

My Lord, we are in great times of trouble. Nargothrond is under attack by the demon Szalor! We need help! Please send…

That was all the dwarf read before gasping and racing down the stairs. Running through the city, he upset many market carts and disrupted the quiet morning. Reaching the keep, the dwarf banged on the door with his heavy fist. A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal two of the dwarf royal guard standing next to each other. Wordlessly, the dwarf thrust forward the message, and was immediately granted permission to pass. Darting between the royal guards, the younger dwarf raced up a spiral staircase until he reached the top, breathless. Waving the paper at the other guards that approached him, he caught his breath and sped down the hall. Arriving at an oaken door, the dwarf lifted his fist, but before he could knock, the door opened and Lord Manwe stepped out. Black hair dangled to his shoulders and his eyes were piercingly blue. He was dressed in a red night-robe but his sword was in his hand. He held out his hand and snatched the letter. Reading quickly, Manwe gasped as he finished. Throwing it down, he turned back to his room. As he turned, Manwe growled at the guards, go, prepare our people for battle. We march as soon as possible…tonight.

But Lord, we can’t get everyone ready in one day, complained one guard.

Oh all right. Tomorrow at noon. No later. We will save the people of Nargothrond. They are our brothers, our friends…our sons.

Chapter 3

            The moon shone bright, and the night was clear. A column of soldiers marched north, up a hill. At their head stood a young man, red cape billowing in the night wind. As he reached the top of the hill, he barked, Thurgon, quick, come here.

The general hurried towards him. Yes, my lord Angrod. What is it?

It, said Angrod, pointing, is Amon Ereb.

Following Angrod’s hand, Thurgon squinted into the distance.

Aha, I see it now.

Come Thurgon, we will reach the city within the hour.

The soldiers doubled their pace through the grassy hills.

            Manwe and his general sat upon the wall, watching the orcs batter at their gates, and occasionally loosing an arrow. Below them, the gates would shatter at any moment, and after they fell, the dwarves would be crushed. Suddenly, a horn rang out. But it was not one of the orc horns, from the sound of it, Manwe could tell it was a dwarven horn. But why would one of our people be blowing a horn right now? They wouldn’t do tha--…unless…I dare not hope.

Manwe stood and scanned the horizon with his eyes. A line of men were slowly advancing down a hill, far away. He squinted harder and barely made out the standard at the head of their column. It was a white dragon on a red background, the standard of the Noldor.

            An hour passed, and the gate to Amon Ereb shattered under the battering rams of the orcs. Pouring forth into the city, they wreaked havoc and were only stopped by small pockets of resistant dwarves. One of these consisted of Manwe, his general, and three normal soldiers. They were faced off against six orc foot-soldiers and a shaman. The general had a spear in his thigh, and was thus unable to fight, as was one of Manwe’s soldiers, who had been blasted by some evil magic and lost an arm. Manwe’s sword was slathered in blood, and three dead orcs lay at his feet, one bereft of his head. Leaping forward, two of the orcs killed one of Manwe’s soldiers, but before they could draw back, Manwe lunged forward and impaled one with his sword. Two more orcs rushed at Manwe’s general, who thrust his sword up from where he sat and stabbed it up one of the orc’s throats. The other orc immediately cleaved off the general’s head. Manwe and his one healthy soldier rushed forward, slashing at the orcs. Two orcs fell before them before Manwe’s companion died. The wounded dwarf now stood up, blood gushing from his shoulder. His good arm held a dagger, and he was prepared to take some orcs with him to the underworld. Throwing himself at one of the orcs, he slashed with his dagger. The orc blocked and then counter-attacked, but his blow was parried by the dwarf’s dagger. Pulling back his arm, the dwarf stepped backward and hurled his dagger at the orc. The weapon flew through the air before thudding into the orcs chest. Gurgling, the orc fell to the ground. As the wounded dwarf reached down to pick up his dagger, the one remaining orc foot-soldier swung his sword downwards, through the dwarf’s helmet and embedding it into his head. As he tried to tug it free, the orc was beheaded by Manwe. Now, Manwe and the shaman stood across from each other; they circled each other, weaving through the bodies of the dead. Manwe lunged forward, driving his sword downwards, but was blocked by the shaman’s staff. Manwe swung again, this time from the ground up, but was again blocked. Twirling his sword, he shoved it forward, hoping to skewer the shaman. The dark magician batted the sword aside and put his staff forward, muttering a few words. Manwe flew back and smashed against a wall. The world tumbled upside-down, and then Manwe blacked out.

tolkien rocks! have you read 'children of hurin'? it's really good

Chapter 6

Two weeks later, Manwe marched at the head of a small army, which was training to protect their people from, and eventually destroy, Szalor. Negotiations had been made with Szalor’s kingdom, Angels of Death, for a temporary peace. Now, the army in training drilled outside Amon Ereb, practicing maneuvers, tactics, swordsmanship, and siege warfare. As Manwe marched, a horseman rode up next to him.

Lord, he said gruffly, we have received a reply message from Lord Sandro of the Guild of the Fallen. It reads: Sir Manwe, you are accepted into the alliance Guild of the Fallen. We shall honor each other and others outside the alliance, for honor gains friends. From Lord Sandro, good luck.

            A week later, the bounds of Manwe’s kingdom contained four cities: Nargothrond, Amon Ereb, Tol Sirion, a city that Manwe had built, and Southern Pass, a small fort that Manwe had taken control over. The campaign had lasted for a few days, and the casualties were low, as most of the people in Southern Pass had surrendered without a fight.

            Manwe sat in his room, reviewing some messages that had arrived. As he picked one up, the door burst open, and a messenger ran in. Lord, a message for you.

The messenger bowed and left, closing the door quietly. Reading the message, Manwe grunted and pounded his fist on the table. A week before, he had sent a scout to settle a city near a friend of his, Sir Struddle, but now he learned that the men were killed by his enemies, and the city taken. Cursing, Manwe stood and exited the room, and was greeted by another messenger.

Sir, a message from Nargothrond. Oh, and another from Lord Gokken.

As Manwe walked down the stairs, he read the first letter. It read:

“To My Father and King, Lord Manwe.

When I was asleep in Nargothrond, the beacons at Southern Pass were lit, and an army passed us in the night. I expect that is one of Szalor’s and it is headed towards Amon Ereb. I and Firila are about to depart, leading an army after them, while Thurgon is in control of Nargothrond and has a few troops at his disposal as well. Thank you,

Your son, Angrod”

Manwe cursed and opened the other letter.

“Lord Manwe, King of Amon Ereb and the lands beyond, I send greetings. I am in the alliance of Military, which is at peace with your guild. I am about to launch an attack on Shalock, one of Szalor’s cities, and I hope you will assist me in the attack. Farewell

Lord Gokken of the Military”

Manwe smiled. Calling his secretary, Waldern Gessif, he dictated a letter.

“Lord Gokken, your letter arrived at the perfect time. A small army of Szalor’s has invaded our territory, but as soon as we repel it, we will be able to counter-attack. If you will do it with us, I will be very happy, and the attack will most definitely succeed.

Lord Manwe of Amon Ereb”

Now send that. I will be preparing an army.

Manwe smiled and walked down the stairs.

Chapter 8

Angrod awoke, surrounded by his men. He was bruised and battered, but that was all. Around him were Thurgon, Celebrimbor, and other minor officers. Angrod sat up quickly and wiped some blood from his forehead. His chest was bandaged from where he had been kicked, and as he sat up, pain stabbed at his side. Ignoring the pain, he gingerly stood, helped up by Celebrimbor, and looked around. The battlefield was scattered with bodies, but Angrod could see no live orcs. As he cleared his throat, a messenger on a horse galloped over a hill and raced towards them. As he arrived, the messenger leapt of his horse and bowed before Angrod, holding a letter out. Gesturing to Thurgon, Angrod watched as Thurgon reached out and took the paper.

Just tell me what it says. Sum it up, and dispense with the pleasantries.

Nodding, Thurgon read the letter and then looked up at Angrod.

Here is what it says, in simple terms. Your father, Lord Manwe, wishes that you will gather the troops that you have been fighting with and meet him and his army at Southern Pass. From there, you two will launch a simultaneous attack on Szalor. Lord Gokken will attack the city of Shalock, while we will attack Ragnarok. Your father requests that you arrive at Southern Pass by tomorrow night.

Thurgon waved the letter in the air. That’s about it.

Angrod nodded. I understand. Our troops will dine and rest inside Tol Sirion; he looked at Celebrimbor, who nodded. Then, tomorrow morning, we will depart.

            Manwe and his aides stood atop the walls of Southern Pass. Manwe expected that his son and his troops would arrive that night, if his son was still alive. The messenger had not returned, and Manwe was worried. If Angrod died, the kingdom would be left to Finduilas. Manwe trusted her just as much as his son, but he didn’t know if anyone else would respect a woman as queen. Even before Fingon had died, Manwe had known he would give the kingdom to one of his younger children. Fingon was more of a warmonger and not much use as a diplomat. Of course, he would have been a perfect general in Angrod’s hands, but alone Manwe didn’t trust him. One of the aides tapped Manwe on the shoulder.

Look, my lord. The messenger returns!

Peering into the night, Manwe saw a lone figure at the peak of a hill. The man looked back, and seconds later, an army crested the hill. Squinting, Manwe could make out Angrod’s special standard. His son was alive! Now together, they would fight against the demon Szalor. And together, they would crush him.

No, sorry. I tried reading the Book of Lost tales and only read at a speed of like 1 page for 5 minutes, when I read other books like Eragon I read a speed of 1 pager per 1 minutes or faster. I lost intrest after about 100 pages of skipping around.

Chapter 10

Manwe and his infantry lay behind the hill, not moving, not talking, but simply waiting. Peering over the crest of the hill, the king watched the tiny dots that were soldiers on top of the wall. Suddenly, yells erupted inside the city and the dots rushed to one side. More noise came and they turned the other way. Chaos reigned on top of the wall until finally half of the dots were running one way, and the other half the other way. Then, the wall was empty. Turning, Manwe nodded. Creeping up to the top of the hill, the dwarves crawled, readying their weapons. At the top, they rose to a crouch, where they waited a few seconds. Then, standing, Manwe raced down the hill, his men behind him. Trying to remain quiet while rushing down a hill in armor was harder than Manwe expected. As they neared the city, the rattling and banging apparently caught someone’s attention, for suddenly, a head poked over the wall. Doubling his pace, Manwe sped towards the city, watching a growing bustle atop the wall. Manwe arrived at the gates seconds before his soldiers, who threw their weight at the wooden gates. Swinging axes, maces, and swords, they thrashed at the gate till cracks split it into pieces. With a final swing, a giant mace-bearing dwarf shattered the gate and it fell to pieces. On the other side stood a few orcs who valiantly resisted. Their efforts were futile, for they were killed within minutes. Rushing through the city, the triumphant dwarves split into two groups, one heading for the west gate, the other for the east. Manwe led the attack on the west gate, hoping to see his son amidst the fighting. As they arrived at the gate, they saw a large group of orcs. Some stood on the wall, other on the ground, still others climbed the gate to shoot arrows through small holes in it. As Manwe’s dwarves fell upon them from behind, Manwe rushed toward a small hut at the bottom of the gate, hoping it controlled the machinery which could open the gateway. Sure enough, it was full of gears and chains, and one large rope tied to a large metal block. He promptly swung his sword and sliced through the rope, and was immediately rewarded by the noise of the gates creaking open and cheering from outside. Peeking out a small window in the hut, Manwe saw dwarves pouring in the gates, led by his son Angrod.

The next morning, Manwe and his victorious generals met inside the city hall of Ragnarok, as their soldiers lounged about the city. The generals discussed what to do about the city of Shalock. Earlier that morning, Manwe had received a letter from Gokken saying that the city of Shalock was his. But hours later, he had received another message that Shalock had already been lost. Its new owner was an orc named Overcome, one of Szalor’s friends. Now, Manwe discussed whether to attack Shalock or leave Overcome alone. Thurgon and Celebrimbor, drunk on their victory, thought they should push on and attack Shalock, while Angrod was more cautious. As they argued, a third messenger walked in and announced that he had a message from Overcome. Manwe opened it and read it aloud.

Dwarf scum,

the cities of Shalock and Ragnarok are mine. Retreat from Ragnarok, or you, as well as your minions, shall be slaughtered and sacrificed to--

Before Manwe could read more, Thurgon banged his fist on the table.

That’s it, he growled. I don’t know if you’ll stand for it, but I won’t. he can’t just call our race scum and tell us to leave. I don’t care if I die, but I’ll purge that orc of the earth if it’s at all possible.

Celebrimbor nodded. Angrod furrowed his brow before smiling and nodding.

They’re right. He did insult us. And, if we don’t attack him, he’ll attack us. So I say we attack them now, while our troops feel glorious and invincible, while their confidence is higher than the stars. Anyway, now’s as good a time as any.

Manwe smiled and nodded.

Good. We attack tomorrow night. We march tonight.

This is a very addictive read. Even though it doesn't get points for originality, it gets lots for good writing.

All you should do is make it bigger. :O I am so addicted to reading more, sorry. I like good warrior tales like this.

<3 Tolkien

here's the next chapter, hope you like it!

Chapter 11

Raaaaahhhh!

Angrod charged down a hill, leaping through the orcs swinging his sword. Shalock was surrounded by hills, and the noldor troops charged down them toward the city, cutting through the orc defenders. Angrod leaped in the air and landed on top of an orc, whom he promptly beheaded. Behind him, his group of infantry yelled and swung their swords. To Angrod’s right, Thurgon and his cavalry charged down a hill, and to his left, Celebrimbor and Manwe bore down upon a group of shamans. Angrod turned to face forward, and slammed into a huge orc. Tangled together, they toppled down the hill, limbs flailing. At the bottom, they flew apart. As soon as he was standing, Angrod was charged at by the orc. Both of them had lost their weapons, so it was a battle of the fists. Swinging his right arm, the orc buried his fist in Angrod’s stomach. Grabbing him by the throat, the orc hoisted the dwarf above his head. Jerking, Angrod searched for a way out as his breath seeped out of him. Grabbing the orc’s arm with one hand, he swung his other arm at the orc’s head. The monster growled and dodged the blow. Angrod could feel his death approaching, and the sounds of battle became muted. All that he could see was his opponents sneering face. Pain seared through Angrod’s chest, ad he jerked violently. A temporary glimpse of sane thought glazed his mind and he tensed. Swinging with all the strength left in him, he brought his knee upward into the orc’s elbow. A resounding crack pierced Angrod’s ears, and he crashed into the ground. As his mind cleared, he saw the orcs standing above him. His arm hung limp, and he was cursing. Angrod stood and swung his arm at the orc’s head. The orc blocked with his good arm and began to batter at Angrod with his fist. But soon, the tide of the battle changed. Angrod was slowly recovering strength with every breath he took, while the orc’s pain grew with each swing of his arm. Finally, the giant made a false swing and Angrod kicked him in the leg. Stumbling, the orc pulled something from his sleeve. A long black dagger, evil-looking and twisted, settled in his hand. The blade was stained with dried blood. Roaring, the orc slashed at Angrod, who ducked and grabbed the orc’s broken arm. Squeezing it, he pulled with all his might, yanking it side to side. Yelling in pain, the monster fell to its knees, and swiftly received a kick to the head. Baring his teeth, he dropped the knife. Angrod took this chance and swept the weapon from the floor. But as he puled away, he was seized by the orc who crushed him against his own body. Grunting, Angrod clenched his fist and drove the dagger into the beast’s back. Pulling it out, he plunged it in again and again until finally, his opponent toppled to the earth. Standing up and looking around him, Angrod realized that the battle was still going, but had almost passed him. Looking forward, he recognized that he was almost at the base of Shalock. Smiling, he walked over to his sword, picked it up, and sunk it into the body of a wounded orc, resting in a pool of its own blood.

thanks samulis! you're the only reader it seems...i should've had a better title

? that's a kool smiley, btw

Read 'The Squires Tale'

sorry, i'm busy with school, so i can't just be pumping out chapters every few minutes...but i'll try

Chapter 12

Manwe stared at the top of the wall, hoping to see some movement. But there was none. Manwe’s guards had been watching the wall for hours, and there had been no sound or movement coming from the city. The gates were impenetrable, obviously guarded by some magician’s spell. Gritting his teeth, Manwe began to walk toward where Angrod and the generals supped in a tent. The earlier battle had gone well, and they had defeated all the orcs and arrived at the base of Shalock. But since then, there had been no signs of life coming from the city. Manwe shook his head, thinking.

Bum bum…

A drum sounded somewhere. Mysterious and deep, it’s booming voice inspired fear in all who heard it. Clenching his fists, Manwe tensed and looked toward the city.

Bum bum… There it was again.

Angrod looked over at his father as he stared at the city. There was something mysterious about all this. The drumbeats came again, and Angrod shivered. He could feel the evil, the hatred, the darkness, behind the sound…

Bum bum…bum bum… bum bum…

The drums slowly, gradually, grew faster. As they did, every single dwarf, old and young, one by one stood up and faced the city. Sweat trickled down Manwe’s forehead.

Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum

Faster and faster beat the drums, and the faster they went, the greater grew the dwarves fear. Angro had kept his head through all this, although he was scared also.

There must be some kind of enchantment, he said to Thurgon. Looking over at the general, he realized that he was oblivious. He shook as his eyes bulged towards the city. Pushing Thurgon, Angrod began to yell.

Wake up! It’s an enchantment! If we— his voice was drowned out by the drums. Raging, they roared at an inhuman speed.

Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum… and then a creak. The gates to the city slowly opened. Every eye turned toward the city. Then…Bum! Each dwarf stumbled and at this last drumbeat, a legion of orcs poured out of the city. Clad in black armor, they pounded toward the dwarves. Crying out in fear, the dwarves scattered and fled into the hills, pursued by their demonic foes.

lol thanks Charley xD now ill have something to do betwean ticks =)...and sinse im talking about stories Septim if you happen to look in here id like to ask: why wont you continue whit A heros tale? xD

keep it up Manwe =D and any other story teller =Þ

did you like this chapter? i liked it, cause i was imagining it in my head...but, other people, i don't know...

I like the suspence that you applied, but what spell was used?

wow, i wrote that in an hour, and didn't revise it at all! the spell that was used? eh, just made it up...some DTA(Dwarf To Animal like STG, heehee) it wears off under certain circumstances...

wow. you really got me there when they captured Manwe. I wasn't expecting the spell to work that strong! How did the archer(s) get that far into the forest where Manwe had ran to?

oh. I was just wondering if the drums had any effects on the orcs, like making them stronger.

yes, i am on zeta currently...some orc was pestering me and finally came out and attacked me...i didn't have enough troops and he took my cities...all those cities-- Amon Ereb, Tol Sirion, Nargothrond, Southern Pass, Shalock, and Ragnarok wer mine...i really miss ragnarok, it had a 400k economy by itself...

thanks