1. The Accursed
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien.
Written for Tyellas´s "Villains" challenge.
It is a day of victory, a day of glorious deeds. It is a day of brightness that will herald the coming of a new Age, where the defeated forces of Darkness will give way to the reign of Light and Good. You told us that a thousand times, repeating it over and over to make sure that the deep meaning of each word was not lost upon us; yet I, poor foolish mortal, understood it, and perhaps even better than you ever did. Who knows?
Oh, please, let me laugh. It´s such a funny sight, that of your faces after being caught by surprise! You stare wildly around you, for a moment unable to decide where to go next or what to do, until realisation suddenly dawns upon you and your eyes widen with hatred and fear. For you are trapped. Trapped and deceived, twice fooled, and, as you soon will see, doomed to die.
Die, die, die, die.
I ride through your host, my heart gladdened with the slaughter. My sword has already killed several Elves, and each time I cannot help remembering how many times I saw myself doing this in my mind. Oh, yes, my friends! Whenever we practised our combat skills together I watched your slimy movements in fascination, eyes fixed on your tender and beautiful pale skin, while, deep in my heart, I knew that I was stronger than all of you, and that with just a thrust I could penetrate your defences and kill you, even before you would know what was happening. You always eyed me with commiseration, as if you thought I was a child to be taught in the art of war, but did you really know how many times I had fought for my life? How many times I had seen mortal blood flow?
How much we have suffered, while only you seemed to have the right to shed tears and sing songs?
Blood. Rivers of blood , of your blood, on my sword and on you, over the ground. Who will dare now to face me? Oh, ´tis you, the fool who tries to block my way! I do not remember your name, but I recall your philosophising with me about life and death. You told me, with the serene smile of one who is never going to perish, that the Great One gave us death as a gift, so that we could be freed from the Circles of the World. Die now! I will not rest, not until I can show all of you wise people what death is, and make you pay for sneering at our pain. You will die for all our loved ones that perished from war and disease in the Far East, for my wife, for her brother; those I tried to mourn when you were not there admonishing me.
Die. I hate you. Darkness and dirt was good for us, we did not appreciate beauty. Disease was our natural fate, old age our blessing, and we could not complain for anything, ever. Die!
Victorious cries of the servants of Melkor are echoing in the distance while I am still here, performing my own glorious deeds. It seems that He got what He wanted in the end, and that our distraction allowed Him to break the greatest force of his foes, who were left alone without the help of their allies. So, hallowed be the God of Men! He is a treacherous rebel, just as we are; an illgotten creature of the Great One, left behind and forgotten in spite of His greater power, and He wants revenge. Such must our god be. You always told us that we could not trust him because he broke his promises, and so we do, too. Yet, didn´t we both hold true to what was really important? We gave Him his victory, and He gave me the chance, the opportunity, to see you die.
Melkor told me that you were cursed. Why didn´t you tell me before? That you would never be able to return to the world of the living, just as we, once that you were slain by violence.
Utúlie ´n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatari, utúlie ´n aurë! *
*"The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!" (Silmarillion 20: Of the Fifth Battle.)
I do not hold myself responsible for Uldor´s feelings. Blame Morgoth. ^tries unsuccessfully to look innocent^
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.