Prologue

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Ok, so before I start, this, please know that I did not come up with this story, a wonderful writer with a username of TheDragon12 did. I'm just posting it here on Wattpad. So yeah. Also, all of this belongs to either Rick Riordan or J. R. R. Tolkien. That's it.
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High above Aman atop Mount Taniquetil, Manwë Súlimo, lord of the air and skies, looked out over the world. He was cloaked in blue robes, and he wielded his sapphire scepter. By his side was his wife Varda, queen of the heavens. With her by his side, he could look out to the furthest reaches of the the world and hear every sound. Manwë stopped and looked at his scepter, crafted for him by the Noldor.

Ah...the Noldor. The most ingenious elves ever to walk upon the Earth. Friends of the Aulë's they were, and from him they learned the craft. Everything was bliss in Aman in that time, Manwë remembered, until Feanor crafted the silmarils.

Feanor was one of the greatest of the Eldar ever to live. His skills surpassed even Aulë's, and his work was rivaled by no one. Many was grieved, remembering the death of Finwë Feanor's father and the theft if the silmarils by Morgoth. Feanor took the Nordor on his foolhardy conquest to Middle Earth and have revenge on Morgoth, but he himself, lost his life in the process. After 500 years of bloody fighting and thousands of noble elves killed, only one silmaril was reclaimed, and that was now housed in the sky with Earendil.

Countless lives lost...Some of the greatest to ever live lost their lives on that war. Feanor, Finrod, Hurin, Turin, Berin...the grief was still too fresh. After the war, many of the Noldor came back to Aman, and for the Edain, the faithful Numemor was risen in the sea for them-the land of gift. Yet after Molgoth's capture and "death", his servant Sauron sought to further his master's conquest. Sauron brought about the destruction of that great civilization of Numenor, and hundreds of thousands of the Edain were killed on the turmult. Now, Numenorean blood is rarely seen in Gondor and in the north, and a strain do the Edain blood on Rohan.

Then Sauron was defeated by Isildur and a great army of elves and men- the Last Alliance, and Manwë hoped that would lead to peace, but he was wrong again. Isildur failed to destroy the ring, and Sauron was never destroyed. His servant Angmar waged a war in the north, and the last if Numenorean blood was all but destroyed, and the line of the kings:ended for a while.

And thus the grieves of Morgoth came to fruition, and since the beginning of days, there has been no peace on the world, and there shall be none until after the Great War to end all days.

Sauron has arisen again, this much Manwë knew. He had arisen 60 years ago and raised an army in the south of Greenwood. Sauron, however, was dispelled by the White Council-wise Elrond, fair Galadriel, Curunir-also known as Saruman to the men of Middle Earth, and his own Maiar: Olorin, known also as Gandalf. Manwë realized that Sauron was not destroyed by the White Council; he was only hindered. Sauron would rise again, and when he did, he would return to Mordor.

At this thought, Manwë once again turned his gaze to Mordor; he had been inspecting it much of late. He saw the same sight he had seen whenever he searched there-a shadow on the ash covered, rocky plain of Mordor, nothing else.something seemed different though, this was not ordinary. In a moment of awestruck realization, Manwë remembered that Sauron was an unfathomably skilled sorcerer. He now perceived that all this was an illusion, a dark shroud created by Sauron to hinder all unwelcome eyes.

Manwë mustered his power and tried to pierce the shroud, but Sauron had been well trained by Morgoth in the dark arts. The magic that went into creating the shadow had been layered on over many centuries; Manwë could not pierce the shroud of darkness on his own.

Breaking out of his trance, he took Varda by the hand. "My love, something stirs on Mordor. Something evil stirs, and and this will not bode well for the people of Middle-Earth.

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