Approximately 1,500 years after the fall of Sauron, in the vast plains of Rohan, wandered a solitary figure.
This lone soul, Elandor, the last Elf in Middle-earth, was a shadow of his former self. Time’s relentless march had left him bent and broken, each step a testament to his enduring agony and solitude.
His face, once fair and serene, now bore the etched lines of grief and eternal weariness.
For centuries, Elandor roamed, haunted by memories of glory long faded. He remembered the days when he stood resolute as a guardian in the White City, his keen eyes watching over the king and queen.
But those days were as distant as the stars, and the laughter and warmth of his kin had long since faded into silence. He lived in an era where even the descendants of Arwen had vanished, leaving him adrift in a world that no longer held a place for the likes of him.
Elandor’s heart ached with the knowledge that the Undying Lands were forever beyond his reach, a choice made in a moment of duty-bound loyalty now a chain around his soul. Lost in a labyrinth of his despair, he teetered on the brink of madness, longing for an end to his endless wandering, yet bound by an ancient oath that forbade him from seeking the peace of death.
As Elandor’s weary feet carried him across the plains, a voice, like a whisper of wind through the leaves, stirred within him.
It was Arwen, reaching across the ages with words of hope and courage.
“Do not lose hope,” she implored.
“Muster your strength. Stand tall once more, as you did in days of yore. The shadows grow long again, and Middle-earth needs its forgotten protectors. Find me, Elandor. Rekindle the fire of our people.”
At first, Elandor thought it was a cruel trick of his fractured mind, a mirage of hope in his desert of despair.
But the voice persisted, each word a spark that ignited the dormant embers of his will. Slowly, the shadows of doubt receded, and a purpose long-lost began to reawaken within him.
With each step, a transformation unfolded.
The stoop in his shoulders began to ease, his stride grew firmer, and a faint light started to glow within his eyes.
He remembered the proud bearing of the Elves, their unwavering resolve in the face of darkness. His heart, long cold and still, began to beat with the rhythm of an ancient song, a song of valor and defiance.
Now guided by a newfound resolve, Elandor set forth on a path he did not know, driven by a deep-seated trust in the wisdom of his people and the bond he shared with his queen.
His journey would take him through forgotten paths and hidden valleys, each step a defiance against the creeping shadows that threatened to engulf the world once more.
Elandor, the last Elf of Middle-earth, now walked with a purpose greater than himself. In his quest to reunite with Arwen and confront the resurgent darkness, he bore the weight of an entire race's legacy.
His journey was not just a path to redemption, but a beacon of hope in an age where legends were all but forgotten.
Stefan:
As a long-standing fan of the books and movies, I remembered a story with which I won a contest in 2007. Sadly, the original was lost within a data breach, so I recreated it from my mind now.
How are you in favor of a lone elf left behind in middle earth, facing a new threat with the only other of his kin?