Post by Takahana on Jan 12, 2012 14:19:59 GMT -5
Here's Roairna, first and foremost.
Roa
Roa Wolf
RoairnaDrakuthaili Elrondion but otherwise known as Roa to those close to him. He appears to be 17 but has been alive since the First War of the Rings and was born 57 years before that. He is, quite obviously, male and has always been a human. When he died at the age of 8 he was reborn into a Shape-shifter. He was a demon for two years after the first war, being that he was sane when he originally saved King Erenion Gil-galad from a fatal blow by Sauron's hand. His adoptive family consists of Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan and Estel. Though, as a means to be better explained, he did not actually die. He was at the very edge of life and death before magic changed him into what he was.
When he was still over-taken by the persuasive powers of evil that Witch King Agmar put over his mind, the Witch King told him this; "Kill the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, and take his ring by force if need. Bring me the ring, slave, and you will have utter power." To Roa, his mind was still young though tainted, who willingly obeyed and went off to look like an innocent child in dire need of help. He ventured far from Mordor to Rivendell with a wicked plan in mind. As events took place and pitiful words spoken, Roa 'fainted' at Elrond's feet, lashing out for an attack when the Half-elven Lord's guard lowered.
Roa and Elrond fought but sadly, Roa nearly killed the one he would soon call 'Adar'. When Elrond lay battered, broken and dying at Roairna's feet, the teen snapped out of his violent stupor with an irritated expression adorning his face. "Why do you try so hard to save me? There is no point in it. I belong to my master, Witch King Agmar, so there I know no freedom." He said, put off guard by the look Elrond had given him.
"Why? Why do you try so hard to renew my faith in the other races? They're evil, they're prey... they're nothing to me." He sighed, looking to the Elven Lord. "Not all are as cruel as the ones you may have met, ion nin..." Elrond had wheezed, his glow fading rapidly. "There is still a light about each race..." He'd wince as Roa's grip on him tightened around his wounded arm.
"I don't get you... why are you so desperate to get me to believe...? I admit, I find the elves pure in every sense of the word.... but I am not worth saving." He sighed. "You are worth saving, penneth.. do not doubt yourself..." His world was slowly turning black but he seemed surprised as Roa brought him into a hug. "I.... I don't want to hear his voice... He keeps telling me to finish you off, but I don't want to hurt you anymore!" He said desperately, giving Elrond a pleading look. And this moment, when Roa found other elves, he helped take care of the Elven Lord's wounds and the two got a bond. A family bond where Elrond adopted Roa into his care... Much to the raven's excitement and stunned surprise, after all he had done and all he did, The Half-elven Lord Elrond had such a kind and caring heart that he'd taken the child in as his own.
{This is only where the tale begins.... are you ready to help it through?}
Beriadan of Lothlorien
Here is Beriadan's story as well....
Beriadan, an elf raised by human hands but one who knew not what elves were. He is at the age of 15-- well.. he looks it, anyways...--, but still clueless to many things about elves. He hadn't learned that he, himself, was an elf considering when he was maturing he was trapped in his room and being fed and watered rarely but on a daily basis. He is rather shorter then other elves and much skinnier then would be deemed safe, but he has grown to be used to this. He never knew that the ones caring for him were generations of his previous owners.
He hadn't heard their voices, nor had he seen their faces but one day when he was finally released from that lonely trap of a room.. he was surprised. Everything was so colorful, beautiful and anything his mind could think of. 'Such a wondrous place.. why was I trapped inside that room all my life?' He'd wonder in his mind but quickly put the thought aside. The time he was let out of that decrepit old room was when he looked the age of ten.
He had been actively aware as to how the others aged faster then him but paid no mind to it. For long centuries after until that terrifying time, Beriadan practiced with a bow and arrow, his daggers that his family gave him and worked himself into a fatigued sleep until he was as fit as an elf could be. He tended to the animals with care before always wondering a different question... 'Why am I different? Why am I here?'
That question still haunts him, but not as much as the memory that would change him for a long time.. One day while he was out hunting with the men of the village, he noticed he was suddenly alone. "H-hello? Where did you all go? This isn't funny you know!" He called, his voice laced with heavy fear before loosing a cry of pain as an arrow struck his shoulder. He quickly fled deeper into the forest, slumping against a tree with a silent whimper.
'What are they doing? I'm not the enemy!' He thought in distress as he pulled out the arrow and bit his tongue to keep quiet. He rolled his shoulder, flinching in pain before slowly wandering out but instead of saying something like his original intention he gave a high-pitched, loud cry of pain as something smashed into his ribs. He dropped, writhing in pain with a whimper, looking up to the people he thought were his friends as they surrounded him. "W-why?" He asked, flinching once more.
"Because you are a waste of space. You try to charm our girls and act as if you don't need to do anything! What makes you so special, hmm? NOTHING makes you so damn special! You're different, you're stupid and above all else, a monster!" One hissed as Beriadan's eyes widened, tears streaking down his face with a terrified expression adorning his face. "W-what? I don't--...!" He cut off then shrieked as one of the men kicked his wounded side, the noticeable sound of ribs breaking echoed through the silence followed by the Elf's distinctly pained scream.
He curled futilely into a pained ball, pain wracking his body as he gasped and whimpered while trembling as the men gave gloating grins before slicing and stabbing the elf then leaving him to rot several hours later. Beriadan's tear-streaked face was contorted in pain as he dragged himself to his feet, giving a silent cry of pain as he collapsed before forcing himself to his feet once more. He swayed, leaning against a tree before stumbling away from the pain, fear, anger and hatred. He didn't know how long he'd traveled before falling unconscious much later in the beautiful Imaldris, near where he would meet the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, when he awoke.
{Here is where Beriadan's adventure starts, what will happen?}
Castiel
Castiel's story told for him...
The bastard child of a Servant girl and a noble, Castiel had a rough life because of the woman he begrudgingly called 'Mother'. She hit him, yelled at him, blamed him for things he didn't do until one night at the age of seven and a half. His birthday coming close, he was trying desperately to avoid the witch that abused him every chance she got. That day, he hadn't seen her until all of a sudden- he was laying on the ground with a splitting headache and all went black. He vaguely remembered screams being torn from his throat as he was being abuse far more violently by the slavers that had bought him from his birth-mother. He was whipped mercilessly on his back, his arms to his wrist were cut. Shallow things, but with so much pain... so much blood. Already being mortified of the dark, as the sick and twisted people hurting him knew, they left him in a dark cell with an elf. He also had another fear that his tortures knew nothing of.. his pure, horrified terror of enclosed spaces was getting to him as the gag to make sure he was quiet muffled his whimpers and cries before a noise caught his attention and caused him to freeze up as he listened. A pained moan, the jingling of chains and one thing he didn't expect.
The elf began to glow, a beautiful thing to see and he would have been more awed had he not been bordering on hysterics. He barely relaxed, wide, steel grey eyes staring at the elf with caution. He hadn't known how battered he truly was. His small torso had a large bruise on the side, his arms littered with shallow cuts, his legs were whipped but would go away if healed and tended to, his back would have scars to stick with him over his years and he was far to pale; far to skinny. He was malnourished to the point of it almost being fatal, which for someone as young as him... it didn't seem right. He faintly had a tan on his otherwise sickly pale skin, showing he was normally outside on a regular basis. He trembled heavily as tears cascaded down his cheeks, despite being calmed by the light, he was still far too terrified for much of anything else.
The elf was in no better shape, he looked to be in horid shape and in desperate need of a healer, was a silver haired elf, who had a silky beard of flowing silver. His body was battered and bruised and what looked to be a deep festering wound on his torso. His tunic hung torn and tattered, hardly any was left. His ribs were covered in heavy bruising, no doubt some cracked and some broken. He slowly opened his silver eyes and looked to the child. A fire flicked through his eyes at seeing a child locked up and mistreated. The elf hung from the wall. Every part of his body screaming in agony. He closed his eyes breifly and gathered his strength, all of it, ad gave a sudden mighty heave on the chains that kept him upright. The pins gave at last and the links fell from the wall and the elf fell hard onto the cold floor. The only sound was his ragged breaths.
The child's dark auburn hair, more-so bordering on black in the dark and vaguely so in the light, was mused and tangled heavily. The child jerked slightly, wide eyes becoming slightly wider before he tried to worm his way out of his bonds after seeing the elf doing so. Despite the pain, he manages to loosen the chains about his wrists before moving further. It only takes a little more and then he was free, giving a muffled yelp as he fell to the ground then whined slightly. Pausing, he looked over to the elf before slowly crawling to him and skinny hands grasped the elf's. "Y-you're hurt... d-don't worry about me." He murmured, fidgeting nervously. The silver eyes opened and looked to the child and gently squeezed the hands of the little one with his own that was held in comfort. "Aye I will not deny that I am wounded but I wont leave you alone in the dark child." he took a shuddering breath.
"What is your name child?" the elf spoke softly, more talking now for both their sakes and also to keep the child calm and to keep himself awake. "Castiel," The child replied in a slight murmur as he wavered over towards the elf before sitting. "And you?" He asked, curious but worried. He wasn't -as- terrified as earlier but still a bit shaky and on-edge. "Cirdan," came the weak voice of the elder elf. "I come from mithlond." "I came from Rohan." He nodded slightly before looking the keys over in his small palm, looking to the door and glancing back to the elf.
Considering the spark in his eyes, his mind was quickly working out a plan for them both to escape. "Are you able to move at all?" Hearing the jingle of keys gave the elf hope. "Aye I believe I can penneth." Slowly and with much pain the TALL elf got to his feet and held one hand over his stab wound. He looked down at the child who was free of his shackles and looked to his own wrists that still had the limp, heavy chains and shackles. He shook his head, "Let us be rid of this place." They snuck to the stables- retrieving Ash, Castiel's cat, and Ithilwen , Cirdan's mare- before freeing the last of the animals and several of the slaves. They rode, far and long, until Rohirrim found them with Ithilwen's aid after Cirdan became too weak to ride any longer. Oh how terrified Castiel was, to believe the only person kind to him was dying... he was in hysterics the moment it happened. The moment the elf said, "I am sorry.. Any villages and settlements are to far for you to go child. Take Ithilwen, and she will take you to safety, where you will be loved, and cared for." Cirdan's face was showed only calm and peace though there were stress marks from the pain upon his features but his face and eyes showed calm and exceptance.
Thankfully Ithilwen retrieved Rohirrim whilst they were riding and the trio were healed enough to travel. Castiel quite happily met King Theoden, Prince Theodred and his cousin- Eomer of Rohan. He was quite pleased on meeting them as well as all the animals he acquainted to over there relaxing promise of healing. It was on the day they were to leave that things changed...
{Castiel and Cirdan's story only just begins. How shall it end? How shall it continue? That is for you to imagine, and us to decide.}
Roa
Roa Wolf
Roairna
When he was still over-taken by the persuasive powers of evil that Witch King Agmar put over his mind, the Witch King told him this; "Kill the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, and take his ring by force if need. Bring me the ring, slave, and you will have utter power." To Roa, his mind was still young though tainted, who willingly obeyed and went off to look like an innocent child in dire need of help. He ventured far from Mordor to Rivendell with a wicked plan in mind. As events took place and pitiful words spoken, Roa 'fainted' at Elrond's feet, lashing out for an attack when the Half-elven Lord's guard lowered.
Roa and Elrond fought but sadly, Roa nearly killed the one he would soon call 'Adar'. When Elrond lay battered, broken and dying at Roairna's feet, the teen snapped out of his violent stupor with an irritated expression adorning his face. "Why do you try so hard to save me? There is no point in it. I belong to my master, Witch King Agmar, so there I know no freedom." He said, put off guard by the look Elrond had given him.
"Why? Why do you try so hard to renew my faith in the other races? They're evil, they're prey... they're nothing to me." He sighed, looking to the Elven Lord. "Not all are as cruel as the ones you may have met, ion nin..." Elrond had wheezed, his glow fading rapidly. "There is still a light about each race..." He'd wince as Roa's grip on him tightened around his wounded arm.
"I don't get you... why are you so desperate to get me to believe...? I admit, I find the elves pure in every sense of the word.... but I am not worth saving." He sighed. "You are worth saving, penneth.. do not doubt yourself..." His world was slowly turning black but he seemed surprised as Roa brought him into a hug. "I.... I don't want to hear his voice... He keeps telling me to finish you off, but I don't want to hurt you anymore!" He said desperately, giving Elrond a pleading look. And this moment, when Roa found other elves, he helped take care of the Elven Lord's wounds and the two got a bond. A family bond where Elrond adopted Roa into his care... Much to the raven's excitement and stunned surprise, after all he had done and all he did, The Half-elven Lord Elrond had such a kind and caring heart that he'd taken the child in as his own.
{This is only where the tale begins.... are you ready to help it through?}
Beriadan of Lothlorien
Here is Beriadan's story as well....
Beriadan, an elf raised by human hands but one who knew not what elves were. He is at the age of 15-- well.. he looks it, anyways...--, but still clueless to many things about elves. He hadn't learned that he, himself, was an elf considering when he was maturing he was trapped in his room and being fed and watered rarely but on a daily basis. He is rather shorter then other elves and much skinnier then would be deemed safe, but he has grown to be used to this. He never knew that the ones caring for him were generations of his previous owners.
He hadn't heard their voices, nor had he seen their faces but one day when he was finally released from that lonely trap of a room.. he was surprised. Everything was so colorful, beautiful and anything his mind could think of. 'Such a wondrous place.. why was I trapped inside that room all my life?' He'd wonder in his mind but quickly put the thought aside. The time he was let out of that decrepit old room was when he looked the age of ten.
He had been actively aware as to how the others aged faster then him but paid no mind to it. For long centuries after until that terrifying time, Beriadan practiced with a bow and arrow, his daggers that his family gave him and worked himself into a fatigued sleep until he was as fit as an elf could be. He tended to the animals with care before always wondering a different question... 'Why am I different? Why am I here?'
That question still haunts him, but not as much as the memory that would change him for a long time.. One day while he was out hunting with the men of the village, he noticed he was suddenly alone. "H-hello? Where did you all go? This isn't funny you know!" He called, his voice laced with heavy fear before loosing a cry of pain as an arrow struck his shoulder. He quickly fled deeper into the forest, slumping against a tree with a silent whimper.
'What are they doing? I'm not the enemy!' He thought in distress as he pulled out the arrow and bit his tongue to keep quiet. He rolled his shoulder, flinching in pain before slowly wandering out but instead of saying something like his original intention he gave a high-pitched, loud cry of pain as something smashed into his ribs. He dropped, writhing in pain with a whimper, looking up to the people he thought were his friends as they surrounded him. "W-why?" He asked, flinching once more.
"Because you are a waste of space. You try to charm our girls and act as if you don't need to do anything! What makes you so special, hmm? NOTHING makes you so damn special! You're different, you're stupid and above all else, a monster!" One hissed as Beriadan's eyes widened, tears streaking down his face with a terrified expression adorning his face. "W-what? I don't--...!" He cut off then shrieked as one of the men kicked his wounded side, the noticeable sound of ribs breaking echoed through the silence followed by the Elf's distinctly pained scream.
He curled futilely into a pained ball, pain wracking his body as he gasped and whimpered while trembling as the men gave gloating grins before slicing and stabbing the elf then leaving him to rot several hours later. Beriadan's tear-streaked face was contorted in pain as he dragged himself to his feet, giving a silent cry of pain as he collapsed before forcing himself to his feet once more. He swayed, leaning against a tree before stumbling away from the pain, fear, anger and hatred. He didn't know how long he'd traveled before falling unconscious much later in the beautiful Imaldris, near where he would meet the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond, when he awoke.
{Here is where Beriadan's adventure starts, what will happen?}
Castiel
Castiel's story told for him...
The bastard child of a Servant girl and a noble, Castiel had a rough life because of the woman he begrudgingly called 'Mother'. She hit him, yelled at him, blamed him for things he didn't do until one night at the age of seven and a half. His birthday coming close, he was trying desperately to avoid the witch that abused him every chance she got. That day, he hadn't seen her until all of a sudden- he was laying on the ground with a splitting headache and all went black. He vaguely remembered screams being torn from his throat as he was being abuse far more violently by the slavers that had bought him from his birth-mother. He was whipped mercilessly on his back, his arms to his wrist were cut. Shallow things, but with so much pain... so much blood. Already being mortified of the dark, as the sick and twisted people hurting him knew, they left him in a dark cell with an elf. He also had another fear that his tortures knew nothing of.. his pure, horrified terror of enclosed spaces was getting to him as the gag to make sure he was quiet muffled his whimpers and cries before a noise caught his attention and caused him to freeze up as he listened. A pained moan, the jingling of chains and one thing he didn't expect.
The elf began to glow, a beautiful thing to see and he would have been more awed had he not been bordering on hysterics. He barely relaxed, wide, steel grey eyes staring at the elf with caution. He hadn't known how battered he truly was. His small torso had a large bruise on the side, his arms littered with shallow cuts, his legs were whipped but would go away if healed and tended to, his back would have scars to stick with him over his years and he was far to pale; far to skinny. He was malnourished to the point of it almost being fatal, which for someone as young as him... it didn't seem right. He faintly had a tan on his otherwise sickly pale skin, showing he was normally outside on a regular basis. He trembled heavily as tears cascaded down his cheeks, despite being calmed by the light, he was still far too terrified for much of anything else.
The elf was in no better shape, he looked to be in horid shape and in desperate need of a healer, was a silver haired elf, who had a silky beard of flowing silver. His body was battered and bruised and what looked to be a deep festering wound on his torso. His tunic hung torn and tattered, hardly any was left. His ribs were covered in heavy bruising, no doubt some cracked and some broken. He slowly opened his silver eyes and looked to the child. A fire flicked through his eyes at seeing a child locked up and mistreated. The elf hung from the wall. Every part of his body screaming in agony. He closed his eyes breifly and gathered his strength, all of it, ad gave a sudden mighty heave on the chains that kept him upright. The pins gave at last and the links fell from the wall and the elf fell hard onto the cold floor. The only sound was his ragged breaths.
The child's dark auburn hair, more-so bordering on black in the dark and vaguely so in the light, was mused and tangled heavily. The child jerked slightly, wide eyes becoming slightly wider before he tried to worm his way out of his bonds after seeing the elf doing so. Despite the pain, he manages to loosen the chains about his wrists before moving further. It only takes a little more and then he was free, giving a muffled yelp as he fell to the ground then whined slightly. Pausing, he looked over to the elf before slowly crawling to him and skinny hands grasped the elf's. "Y-you're hurt... d-don't worry about me." He murmured, fidgeting nervously. The silver eyes opened and looked to the child and gently squeezed the hands of the little one with his own that was held in comfort. "Aye I will not deny that I am wounded but I wont leave you alone in the dark child." he took a shuddering breath.
"What is your name child?" the elf spoke softly, more talking now for both their sakes and also to keep the child calm and to keep himself awake. "Castiel," The child replied in a slight murmur as he wavered over towards the elf before sitting. "And you?" He asked, curious but worried. He wasn't -as- terrified as earlier but still a bit shaky and on-edge. "Cirdan," came the weak voice of the elder elf. "I come from mithlond." "I came from Rohan." He nodded slightly before looking the keys over in his small palm, looking to the door and glancing back to the elf.
Considering the spark in his eyes, his mind was quickly working out a plan for them both to escape. "Are you able to move at all?" Hearing the jingle of keys gave the elf hope. "Aye I believe I can penneth." Slowly and with much pain the TALL elf got to his feet and held one hand over his stab wound. He looked down at the child who was free of his shackles and looked to his own wrists that still had the limp, heavy chains and shackles. He shook his head, "Let us be rid of this place." They snuck to the stables- retrieving Ash, Castiel's cat, and Ithilwen , Cirdan's mare- before freeing the last of the animals and several of the slaves. They rode, far and long, until Rohirrim found them with Ithilwen's aid after Cirdan became too weak to ride any longer. Oh how terrified Castiel was, to believe the only person kind to him was dying... he was in hysterics the moment it happened. The moment the elf said, "I am sorry.. Any villages and settlements are to far for you to go child. Take Ithilwen, and she will take you to safety, where you will be loved, and cared for." Cirdan's face was showed only calm and peace though there were stress marks from the pain upon his features but his face and eyes showed calm and exceptance.
Thankfully Ithilwen retrieved Rohirrim whilst they were riding and the trio were healed enough to travel. Castiel quite happily met King Theoden, Prince Theodred and his cousin- Eomer of Rohan. He was quite pleased on meeting them as well as all the animals he acquainted to over there relaxing promise of healing. It was on the day they were to leave that things changed...
{Castiel and Cirdan's story only just begins. How shall it end? How shall it continue? That is for you to imagine, and us to decide.}