Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 3)

Chapter 11: Phantoms and Partings

Caledorn left the company soon after darkness fell. He preferred to keep watch rather than sleep, and he preferred to do it alone, away from the others. He had found a sturdy tree with thick branches not far from the camp, and he had quickly ascended high into its boughs. The pine needles kept most of the rain from reaching Caledorn, but he still kept his hood pulled over his head. In a way, it was a sort of comfort to him... Though he didn't care to admit it, it made him feel safer. More concealed.

The tall tree commanded a view over the rest of the forest, which was partly why the reticent elf chose it over the other trees. He could see everything that moved among the trees, from bats and owls to the occasional deer. His emerald eyes scanned back and forth, constantly alert to his surroundings.

He had seen no more ravens since they had made camp. Perhaps they had realized that he noticed them and were attempting to keep a lower profile... Or perhaps it was all just in his head. It was possible that they were just ordinary ravens, however unlikely that seemed. Caledorn knew that he had been growing overly paranoid of late, and he wondered if maybe that was all it was. He seemed to be seeing shadows around every corner, even where there weren't any.

Am I losing my touch? Caledorn thought to himself. Is everything I've seen, everything I've done really effecting me in such a big way?

As the thought went through his mind he saw a shadow disappear behind a nearby tree. A human shadow.

No... It wasn't anything. My mind is playing tricks on me, the elf thought as he pulled down his hood and ran a hand through his jet black hair. No, there it is again! He thought, seeing the shape again. It was definitely something...

Like a stealthy cat he soundlessly descended the tree, an ebony dagger in hand. He crept in the direction of the figure until he saw it again, walking quietly further into the trees. He followed it, unsure of what, or who, it was. It strode silently along until it came to a dark, still pool. Caledorn couldn't see its face, for it wore a thick black cloak with a hood that covered it.

He slowly, carefully snuck forward, his dagger at the ready. He was preparing to put his knife to its throat, find out who it was.

But just as he got close enough, the figure spun around, grabbing his wrist and twisting the dagger from his grasp. In the process, the hood fell and Caledorn found himself staring at a familiar face.

"F-father?" Caledorn asked as he backed away. "How... How is this possible?"

His father frowned, and his face seemed unnaturally pale as he tilted his head to the side. "You have failed me... You fight for a lost cause."

Caledorn's eyes widened in surprise. "What?? What do you mean? This is what you would have wanted!"

"The Lord of Gifts is kind, and you have thrown his kindness back in his face!" His father hissed, striding closer and forcing Caledorn to stumble backwards. He raised a pale hand as he approached, its fingers long and grasping.

"He killed our people! All of them! Not even Celebrimbor escaped his cruelty!" Caledorn cried. As he stumbled back he fell into another cloaked figure.

"I shaped the history of Middle Earth... I crafted the Rings of Power," The figure said. His voice was unmistakable, for Caledorn remembered it from when he was little more than a child.

"You died Celebrimbor! None of this is real, it can't be!" Caledorn exclaimed. He spun around and ran into the forest, hoping to escape the phantoms. But as he ran, he turned a corner and ran right into a tall armored figure. The figure was wreathed in fire, and a fiery Ring was upon his finger.