Forgotten Allies: prologue
by: McJen



"I amar prestar aen.
han mathon ne nen.
han mathon ne chae.
a han noston ne 'wilith."

"The world is changed.
I can feel it in the water.
I can feel it in the earth.
I can smell it in the air."


'Twas the beginning of the fourth age when the last Elves departed Middle-Earth. The heirs in the line of Aragorn were still upon the throne of Gondor when the last ship of Elves traveled the Straight Way into the West. In Valinor, the leaves upon the mallorn trees had blossomed and fallen times beyond counting since that day. And though the number of Elves did not multiply, they did not diminish. And the beauty of the Blessed Realm grew to unparalleled heights.

The Elves were distantly aware of the great changes upon Middle-Earth, as one might remember a dream upon awakening. The far off shores were no more than a forgotten memory. For the beauty to behold in the Blessed Realm far outweighed the beauty of anything upon Middle-Earth, even at the height of the Elves power. And most gave little heed to a land they would never return. Most of them. But not all. A few Elves could not forget the past so easily. For their lives had been so intertwined with the fate of Middle-Earth that not a season passed that it was not within their thoughts. They could sense the darkness rising. And they knew it could not be ignored.


It was the end of the fourth age. Though few who walked the lands of Middle-Earth knew it. As in Elder days, the shape of the lands had changed until they barely resembled Middle-Earth of days past. And indeed, the change was so great the inhabitants of these lands called it not Middle-Earth any longer. But simply Earth.

Generations of mortals walked for a fair time upon the Earth, then lay beneath it. The great kingdoms of ages past crumbled to dust. And what little remained became places of awe and wonder, misunderstood. For the histories they sprang from became legend, and legend became myth. And even myth was long forgotten. But such great deeds of old never fade completely, though they hide in the most unlikely of places. Within the stories of children can be found the last record of the great ages. Magic still dwells in the stories. And elves, and halflings, and wizards and dragons and treasures sought and found. And evil.

But none knew the tales were true and did not heed the warning signs until it was too late. Evil had taken mortal form and a new war was being fought to hold the world against the coming darkness. But few mortals ever knew how dark or dangerous the real enemy was. And while the dead littered the battlefield another war was taking place. A secret battle, a desperate search that no songs would ever be sung of, and no histories would ever record. Fought by mortals who found themselves in the midst of a journey they did not want to take. Yet they did not go alone.

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