Middle Earth Gamer

The nazgul

 15 Years Later

It had been fifteen years since Taranis arrived in the Shire, and ten years since Aredhel's sudden departure. In that time, Taranis had made the Shire his home, becoming a fixture in the lives of the Hobbits. He spent time with Bilbo and Frodo, enjoying their quiet days together. He even forged friendships with Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Though the pain of losing Aredhel never quite left him, time had softened the ache, and Taranis began to find peace.

His bond with the Hobbits was a source of strength. They had become his family, and in turn, Taranis helped them when he could—whether it was through tales of his past or assisting in small, heroic acts. But it was the time spent with them that healed him most. Their laughter, their sense of wonder, and their quiet courage in the face of adversity had a way of lifting his spirits.

Level 30 - returning strength

Taranis had also grown stronger. After years of grinding through challenges and quests, he had finally reached level 30 again, his strength and endurance ever-growing. His powers had become more refined, though still limited by his mana, which had now reached 10, allowing him to wield both his Lightning Stab and Storm Wall abilities multiple times in a month.

The Quiet Peace - Shire Life

Taranis, Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin often spent evenings around the hearth, sharing stories, and sometimes even singing songs. Taranis would listen with a thoughtful gaze, content in the simplicity of their lives. Frodo had grown into a wise young Hobbit, and Sam remained as loyal and steadfast as ever. Merry and Pippin, ever mischievous, kept things lighthearted, making Taranis chuckle despite himself.

It wasn't perfect, but for the first time since he arrived, Taranis felt like he belonged.

The Nazgûl's Return

One crisp autumn day, while walking alone in the woods, Taranis sensed something off in the air. His instincts flared, and he immediately felt the weight of danger closing in. The trees around him seemed to whisper warnings, but it was too late. The Nazgûl had found him.

They struck without warning, emerging from the shadows like wraiths, their presence suffocating. Taranis cursed under his breath, realizing that he had left his sword at home, thinking it would be a peaceful walk in the woods. He was weaponless, vulnerable.

Taranis (to himself, gritting his teeth): "This is it. They won't stop until they have me."

With his heart pounding in his chest, Taranis did the only thing he could. He reached for his mana reserves, the power flowing through him despite the drain it caused. Lightning surged from his fingers, streaking across the forest in a dazzling burst. The Nazgûl faltered momentarily, but they were relentless, and they closed in fast.

He tried to flee, his legs pumping as he darted through the trees, but his body was still weak from the strain of the spell. His mana was nearly depleted, and exhaustion threatened to take over. It was then that the Witch-king of Angmar appeared before him, a figure of terror clad in shadow and flame.

The Witch-king's voice echoed in the silence of the woods, cold and filled with malice.

Witch-king (his voice a guttural hiss): "You cannot escape me, mortal. Your fate has been sealed."

Before Taranis could react, the Witch-king struck. The blade of the Nazgûl was impossibly fast, and with one brutal sweep, it cleaved into Taranis's right arm—the arm that had once wielded Anguirel with unmatched skill. The pain was excruciating as his sword arm was severed, leaving him crippled and unable to defend himself.

Taranis (screaming in agony, falling to the ground): "No!"

Blood poured from the stump of his arm, and his body went into shock. His breath was ragged, and his vision blurred as the Witch-king loomed over him, triumphant.

Witch-king (coldly): "Your story ends here. The Nazgûl will find what they seek, and there will be no one left to stop us."

Just as the Witch-king raised his blade for the final strike, a brilliant flash of light filled the clearing. Gandalf, appearing like a vision of hope, swung his staff with great force, pushing the Nazgûl back with a powerful wave of magic.

Gandalf (commanding, his voice thunderous): "Begone, foul creatures! Your darkness has no place here!"

The Nazgûl shrieked in pain and fury, their forms dissipating into the air as Gandalf stood protectively over Taranis. His magic pulsed with power, and the Nazgûl retreated, their shadows fading into the night.

Gandalf (rushing to Taranis's side, concern etched on his face): "Taranis, you fool... why did you not wait for me?"

Taranis, still reeling from the shock of his injury, could barely speak, his consciousness slipping in and out.

Taranis (weakly, through gritted teeth): "They came... for me... I couldn't run anymore, Gandalf... I had to fight."

Gandalf's eyes softened with both concern and frustration as he lifted Taranis in his arms, muttering an incantation to heal the worst of his wounds. But the damage to Taranis's arm was severe, and it would take more than magic to restore him.

Gandalf (with a sigh, his voice gentle): "You have always been reckless, my friend. But now... you must rest. There's no shame in that."

Taranis could only nod weakly, the weight of everything sinking in. He had faced the Nazgûl, but it had come at a terrible cost. His arm was gone, and with it, part of the strength he had always relied upon. But the battle wasn't over yet. There was still more to be done.

The Aftermath - A Broken Hero

Gandalf carried Taranis back to the Shire, where Bilbo and Frodo anxiously awaited news of their friend. The sight of Taranis, bloodied and broken, sent a chill through their hearts.

Bilbo, ever the voice of reason, helped care for Taranis, though the pain of seeing him like this was hard to bear.

Bilbo (with a solemn tone, touching Taranis's remaining hand): "You've lost so much... but you're still here. And you're not alone, Taranis."

Taranis, his face pale, met Bilbo's gaze with gratitude.

Taranis (softly): "I... I thought it was over, Bilbo. I thought... I couldn't fight anymore."

Bilbo (smiling gently): "You've fought enough, my friend. But remember, we all have a part to play in this. You're not done yet."

As Taranis rested in the Shire, the shadow of Sauron loomed larger than ever. But even broken, Taranis knew the fight wasn't over. He would heal. He would rise again.

And this time, the darkness would not have the last word.