LOTR || ⤜𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩 → [Legolas x OC]

⤜ 15 → the Mirror

Elves. Men. And Dwarves. The three ancient races of Middle Earth.

Certainly not the only races. But by far the most predominant, amongst others fouler and fairer.

But the tale Galadriel told did not begin when life was first breathed into being. It began with the forging of the Great Rings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

"The Elves were gifted with three – Narya, Nenya and Vilya," Galadriel said, raising a delicate hand to reflect the light off a shimmering white ring on her finger. "Seven to the Dwarf Lords, and nine to the race of Men. Within these rings was bound the strength to govern each race. But they were deceived, for another Ring was made.

In the Land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring to control all others. And into this Ring he poured his cruelty, malice and will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all..."

A shiver crawled up my spine, and I felt the whispers of shadows return again. But Lady Galadriel continued and I listened intently.

"Thousands of years passed, marked by the ever-growing shadow of Sauron. He was feared by all. War broke upon the lands unceasingly, like tides upon the shore. And one by one the lands of Middle earth fell to the power of the Ring.

Yet there were some who resisted – a last alliance of Men and Elves fought against the armies of Mordor. Victory was near. But the power of the Ring could not be undone. Sauron had beheaded the King of Men."

The woman glanced in my direction. She could most likely see the unspoken questions bubbling inside me but I dared not interrupt.

"Yet when all hope faded, Isildur - son of the king - took up his father's sword and defeated Sauron. But the Ring had a will of its own. It passed to Isildur and betrayed him to his death.

Thus a Third Age of Middle-Earth began," she said softly. "And things that should not have been forgotten, were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. For two and a half thousand years, the Ring passed out of all knowledge.

Until it ensnared a new bearer – the creature Gollum. It consumed him. For five hundred years the Ring poisoned his mind. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumour grew of a Shadow in the East - whispers of a nameless fear. The Ring abandoned Gollum, and was picked up by a Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

Lady Galadriel walked to the silver vessel perched by the stones near the stream. Her dress glittered in her trail. She bent down and carefully filled it with water, every movement smooth and unhurried. She returned with the vessel and began pouring it into the silver basin on the pedestal.

"For six decades the Ring remained hidden by Bilbo," she continued. "Until the time came when he left the Shire - to retire to the mountains where he wished to spend the ends of his days. The Ring had fallen into the possession of his nephew - Frodo Baggins. But it wasn't until the shadows had grown across the lands in the east, that confirmed the malice hidden within the Ring.

It could not be destroyed – not by any weapon we crafted. It was made in the fires of Mount Doom. And only there could it be unmade.

Thus nine companions - Frodo included - became The Fellowship of the Ring - to venture deep into Mordor and cast the Ring back into the chasm of flames. Battles were fought and won. Old alliances were reborn and new ones made. Then came the War of the Ring.

The sword of Isildur had been reforged and taken up by his heir, who swore to fight till the last remaining strength in his blood was spent - to see peace restored in the world again. And when the time came, young Frodo and his loyal companion Samwise had destroyed the One Ring.