Divide and Conquer- The Greenwood's Reach

[Axis Sunsoar]

Hey everyone! I have been posting chapter of this over in the generic med:2 AAR forums, but I thought I would transport it here for your enjoyment. Following is a copy- posted verbatim copy of my OP over there, complete with prologue.


Hey all!


I have created (at least part of) a humorous Danish AAR, which I do intend to return to, but I am currently in the mood for a different kind of writing. The exact opposite kind, actually. Coincidentally, the story will also be quite different from the Third Age AAR recently started by Antonidas, which promises to bring more of his hilarious story-telling and gameplay style to our humble forums.


But, enough about what this won't be. I really wanted to write a narrative driven tale this time, so there will likely be no pictures in this AAR, or if I do decide to use them, they will be few and far between (for example, if desired, each chapter could be accompanied by a favorite screenshot from the described events, or an image I pull off the web). It will be based on events in my campaign, but will include copious amounts of artistic liberties and embellishments. Consider the campaign to be a gentle hand, guiding my creative genius, but not defining it.


Here is a bit of a prologue to the whole affair:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

In the early dawn hours of the twenty-seventh day of ethuil, a rider arrived, cloaked and hooded before the great gates that guarded the cavernous home of the King of the wood-elves. The massive doors stood mighty, forged of bright mithril and some bronzed metal, forming an impressive barrier to any who sought entry into the keep. On this day however, they were no obstacle to the lone rider, who had to wait only a moment, exchanging a brief conversation with one of the guards, before the gates swung open and allowed him entry. With long fingers, the visitor grasped the corners of his hood and drew it back, revealing long white hair that fell straight down to his shoulder blades. Coupled with his long white beard, he bore the appearance of an elder, but there was no sign of age apparent in his bearing, and no stoop in his squared shoulders. Indeed, he held himself tall, seemingly without a use for the ornate staff that he gripped in his right hand.


He handed the bridle of his horse to one of the elves who appeared to usher him in and continued into the caves. Making his way deeper into the caves, he passed a number of elves, who bowed respectfully and spoke in Sindarin. He moved deep into the caves and, turned down a winding staircase, to a depth where even many of the elves who had lived among the halls for its entire Millennia of existence would be lost. However, the wizard, for a Wizard he surely was, knew exactly what he was looking for. Though his face betrayed no emotion, the Wizard was becoming frantic. He had searched the the forges of Eregion already, among the ruins of Ost-in Edhil, and upon being foiled, he had continued his search through all of Hollin. When his search failed there, he had moved on to Imladris, but the object of his search had not been among the great libraries of Elrond’s House. Finally, he had entered into the golden wood, and had searched long in Caras Galadhon, beneath the leaves of the majestic Mallorn trees, for why would the lords of Eregion not have taken everything with them? However, his search there had once again been in vain.


In many ways, this was the last hope for the wanderer. However, it did not take him long to see that all of his searching had been rewarded. There, lying in a library so deep in the halls of the Woodland king that Thranduil himself had likely forgotten it lay a battered elvish tome. The tome contained an extensive lore of the rings of power, including a detailed description of their forging. During those days in which the rings had been forged, Celebrimbor had recorded many of the details of their forging in the very tome that now lay at the feet of the man who sought for it. How odd it was, the wanderer reflected, that the tome lay in the halls of the Elven lord who had received no ring from Celebrimbor. Perhaps it was thought that the best guardian would be the one who did not have the means, and therefore the temptation, to attempt to use the knowledge it contained. Or perhaps the other elf-lords were not even aware that it lay in these halls. That very tome would not be lying in those halls for much longer, for it was gathered up by the wizard ere he left the room. Now one half of the cause for his visit was complete, and the other would be much briefer. It was not long before he found himself among the well-lit main corridors once more, and from there, it was only a matter of a few minutes before he reached the great carved doors that would act as the last guardians of the king, were any foe to make it that far. An elf, armed and armored elaborately with a great bow slung over his back and green scale armor acting as his own guard stepped forward, but needed only a moment’s glance at the man before he allowed the doors to swing open.


On an ornate throne woven from the branches of two great living oak trees, sat the King of the Wood elves. Bowing before him, the man spoke,


“Hail Thranduil, King of the Greenwood, I come bearing council for you in these times.”


“Hail indeed! You should know that I always welcome your council, Curunir.”


The doors swung shut, leaving elf and man to converse, though what the next days would bring, no one was yet sure.

[Axis Sunsoar]

Chapter 1

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Chapter 1: A meeting in Mirkwood


Thranduil rose from his throne and followed Curunir into a secondary chamber that branched off of the throne room, signaling for his guards to close the door, and bar other visitors. When the door swung closed, he turned to his visitor.


“I am surprised to find you so far from Angrenost, Curunir. Has the enchantment of the Iron Fortress begun to rust?”


“Nothing of the like, Thranduil, but I felt that I needed to hold a council with you. Romestamo and Morinehtar yet remain in the east, and though I can still feel that they have a presence, I have little and less idea where they might be found. Olorin remains somewhere in Eriador, where he seems to have taken a great concern with the halflings that inhabit the Shire. Aiwendil lives nearby, I am told, but I am also told that his mind has wandered from the events which he once maintained a close eye on. I have no doubt that he has observed the danger that the lands are in, I do not believe that he will be much use in developing a plan to deal with it. That leaves myself. Come now Thranduil, you cannot pretend that you do not know of the dangers that face your wood.”


The elvenking scoffed. “I knew of the dangers a thousand years ago when I built these halls, Curunir, but no one was willing to listen to me then.”


The white wizard looked uncomfortable. “I am sorry for that, my friend” he said quietly, “but would you truly refuse our help now? The White Council gathered a fortnight ago, and Olorin revealed the true extent of the darkness in these lands.”


Thranduil still looked resentful. “And why have you come here to tell me this now?”


“Come now Thranduil, can you truly tell me that you would not take the opportunity to reclaim your realm? Do you know what it is called by men in these times?”


That at last drew a reaction from the Elvenking. “Indeed, ‘Mirkwood’ they dub my mighty Greenwood, and they speak of it in whispers, and gather close around their campfires when the word leaves their lips. So yes, I know exactly how men speak of it.”


For a moment, the Istari appeared worried that he had gone a step to far, and fully incurred the wrath of the elf, but he quickly regained his confidence, and composure. “Good,” the word rolled smoothly off his tongue, “Then retake your realm, with my aid, and I will require only one favor from you.”


“What aid can you offer me? Unless you intend to march every step of the way by my side, wielding magic against my foes, then there is little you can do in the war that is nigh.”


“I have many friends, Thranduil, and quite the reputation. At my bidding elves will flock to your banner, and I can send word through my contacts to many others. With my aid, your realm can gain a military power that the elves have not seen since Elu Thingol ruled in Doriath.”


“A tempting offer to be sure, Curunir, but you mentioned something that would be needed from me. I cannot accept until I hear your full proposal. And do not think to talk circles around me. It is not a wise man who banters with an elf.”


“Of course, I would not consider it, my request is straightforward, and not for my own benefit, but for the benefit of all the free peoples. Surely you would not turn down such a request, even if it meant more effort for you.”


“I warned you about attempting your word-smithy on me. You may be a Maia Curunir, but we elves are first among Illuvatar's children, and not to be trifled with by anyone.”


“Of course, that was not at all my intent. Once the greenwood is fully back in your hands, I need you to march against the horse lords of Rohan, they, ah, have fallen under the sway of Sauron.”


“Truly? They have always been staunch allies of the Steward’s people, what could have caused a turn?”


“I suspect that their king has discovered a palantir and has been in communication with Sauron. It would be simple for the Great Deciever to convince a mere man to side with him.”


Though still suspicious, Thranduil agreed reluctantly with the wizard, “Very well, after the greenwood is green once more, we will march against the eoras, and help you protect your Agrengrost.”


Curunir looked surprise that Thranduil would think to mention his fortress, as a motivation for the campaign, and a little worried, but he managed a graceful bow, and left the King’s presence.

[Flinn]

ahhh a new FF, well it's going to be a busy summer with 2 AARs and one FF.. good job so far, looking for the rest

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

one notice though

During those days in which the rings had been forged, Celebrimbor had recorded many of the details of their forging in the very tome that now lay in the halls of one of the possessors of those very rings

I might have misunderstood it, but I don't think Thranduils ever see any of the elven rings

[Axis Sunsoar]

Thanks, it seems I have indeed confused my elves. I'll change it to something that is true to the lore. In another update or so this will become an AAR, because it will be based generally on the events of a campaign. However, for all intents and purposes, it will indeed be a fan fiction.

[Axis Sunsoar]

Chapter two is here.

This chapter will contain the first actual action from the campaign, you may notice some of the storytelling designed around quirks in the game. I enjoy the challenge of including such things without making it seem ridiculous, but if you dislike it and think I should just ignore it, then drop a comment. In fact, drop a comment regardless, tell me if you like it, if you don't, or what you do or don't like.

Also, Flinn, I've adjusted the prologue appropriately based on your advice. I would be honored if you would continue to point out anything I've missed in the lore, as you are clearly a scholar of Tolkien.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Chapter 2 – The elves March
No sooner had Curunir departed from the halls, when Thranduil rose quickly from his throne and began to issue command. Rarely did any of the Elder race show the haste that the Elven King did now. In truth, the thought of reclaiming the Greenwood had long lurked in the back of his mind. He found the idea very appealing, and with the suggestion from one so esteemed among the free peoples, it did not take long for his mind to be settled on a course. The ancient halls were bustling with activity, as all of the elves that remained were either arming themselves, or gathering supplies for those who would be departing. The swiftest messengers in the city were sent to the outpost of Taur Philinn, in the west of the forest, where Legolas had taken a group of Rangers to keep watch against the encroachment of the orcs in the mountains.
The elves marched out of Thranduil’s Hall with songs on their lips, fell weapons in their hands, and death in their eyes. In the days since preparations had begun, all of the elves who lived in the forests around the halls had gathered together, which lead to the forming of the greatest host that the forests had seen for a millennium. Only a week’s march from his halls, Thranduil encountered a sign of just how far the darkness had spread across his forest. Approaching the gates of Emyn-nu-Fuin, he was startled to see that the walls were patrolled by fell orcs, and filthy, evil men, who had taken up with the orcs for so long that they had become little better. Long had the Silvan outpost watched the Southern approach to the Halls, and from that place a small but watchful company could keep eyes upon the length of the Old Forest Road, until it faded into the distance near Eryn Dholen. It was also ideal for defense, if it came down to that, nestled as it was between the Mountains of Mirkwood, two of its flanks were naturally protected.
The Elvenking was struck dumb at the sight of the sight of orcish hobnail boots defiling the outpost. He had come to collect a portion of the garrison to bolster his forces, not to spend troops to reclaim the lands that he had thought were his.
“It is long since I spared a thought for this place,” Thranduil spoke after a time, to his captain Mellion, “Had I known of its plight I would have gathered my host and marched far sooner. At what time do you think it fell, and what became of its defenders?”
“I know not my King, I had still thought that our warriors held this pass as well. I would not have thought that it would fall without word reaching us.”
“It is time that we regained what was once ours. The time for assault draws nigh, go, bid the rangers take their positions.”
The orcs that stood atop the walls had little warning of the elvish assault. The sharpest-eyed tracker among them saw only a silhouette of a ram rolling toward the gate before he and his fellows felt the bite of many arrows, the fury of the elves raining upon their heads. Terrible cries arose from the walls, and those within the town were alerted to the presence of the attackers. In the end, it would do them little good.
The elven arrows were followed by near three hundred of the undying bearing axes and spears. The elves’ swift blows drove the resistance back toward the town center. Stepping into the middle of their town, the orcs prepared to make a stand, and were met with a shower of arrows. Thranduil had lead his archers around the town, in the shadow of the walls until they had the line they needed on the cleared field that had served the outpost as a mustering and parade ground.
The remaining orcs in the town were finished without another elven blade being drawn, a fierce rain of arrows scything them down before they could even consider fighting back. Thranduil and Mellion approached the center of the town together, and prepared to hear the reports of their captains. Suddenly Mellion paused to look closer at one of the shields that rode the arm of their former foes. He gestured to the roughly painted tribal symbols splayed across its face. “This is not the eye of Mordor, nor that of Mirkwood. They are simple brigands, egged on, no doubt by the Dark Lord, but not under his command.” The King was pondering what might mean for the war when he was stopped suddenly by a hand gripping his ankle through its light leather boot.
Whirling, the King looked to the ground for the offender, and following the arm, was able to find a face. Through the mixed grime of dirt and blood, the visage of an elf was unmistakable. But this was not an elf that had followed him to the outpost.
“My king, I am so sorry.”
“Who are you?” a baffled Mellion questioned the elf.
“I am Taruvian, I was one of those who was charged with garrisoning… ack!” The elf paused and coughed up a pool of blood before he could continue, “Garrisoning the outpost here. I… wanted a kingdom of my own… forgive me.” The elf’s piercing blue eyes glazed over, and his hand fell limply from the king’s leg.
Though he had not finished his tale, Thranduil knew what the elf had done. He had met with the enemy in secret, and arranged to allow them entry. Perhaps he had shed the blood of his fellow guards, or perhaps he had guided them along the secret path that climbed the eastern mountains, and allowed them to descend on the passage and enter the town by that way. Regardless, the elvish outpost had been lost by treachery, which Thranduil had hoped his folk would be exempt from. But now he saw that he had treason to guard against, as well as orc blades.
His eyes narrowed, and despite the battle they had won, the taste of victory had turned to ashes in his mouth. It was as if he had taken a bite of Lembas bread, only to find that it was instead Dalish cram. He turned away from the field and strode back to his tent.

[Flinn]

Also, Flinn, I've adjusted the prologue appropriately based on your advice. I would be honored if you would continue to point out anything I've missed in the lore, as you are clearly a scholar of Tolkien.

Well I'm not a scholar honestly, but I know something about lore

As this is a FF there is no need to be very strict with lore, but if you change something on the major plot, I think you need to justify it in some way (for instance, AFAIK Saruman never went to meet Thranduil, but though it's unlikely, it is still possible; same point whith having a tome on making elven rings in his library).
As I said this is a FF and it has to be FICTION in some extent, so no need to argue for your inventions (which I liked anyway), but that one on Thranduils being a warden of one of the Three was just like a door slamming at one's face, you need at least to stroke your nose after it

back to the FF, nice adding with chapter two, I like the way you give depth to the facts with some good storytelling

I'll surely keep following it