Many years have passed since the Battle of Five Armies claimed the lives of many. The men that once protected Dale were dead, their children and grandchildren taking their place. The dwarves that settled in the Lonely Mountain prospered and the kingdom grew steadily more stable. The hobbit returned to Shire, home, safe and sound. And then there was the elf. Durion, still haunted by the shadows of his grief and regret. In the 76 years from the death of Thorin and his kin Durion ran and hid. He knew Gandalf searched for him in the first few years, but gave up once darkness started stirring in Mordor, for there have been rumors that a vengeful ghost possessed a dying ranger and together they wreaked havoc in the land of the Dark Lord Sauron.
The ranger's name was Talion. When Durion dared to go closer South towards Mordor, he even found out the identity of the ghost possessing the poor man. Celebrimbor. The elf that forged the three rings for the elves and assisted Sauron in forging the rest. Then a lot happened in just a few days. Talion and Celebrimbor forged a new ring of power together and started hunting down the newly active RingWraiths. Talion mercifully killed and released Isildur instead of letting Celebrimbor charm him into serving them. The elven ghost was furious. Then, when the ranger realized that Celebrimbor, despite wanting to defeat Sauron, was just the other side of the same coin, refused to help him further. The elven smith and the last Lord of Eregion betrayed Talion and left his body to die, possessing a new wessel, who, apparently, was an elven assassin. Talion, with the last of his strength, slipped on Isildur's ring of power and rose once again. The rest of the story was unclear to Durion, for he was almost tracked down by Gandalf once more.
So he moved West and spent long years in Gondor. He still stole from the rich for the poor, but now there was guilt and remorse where previously there was none. Always he was reminded of his theft of the Gems of Lasgalen. Of his betrayal of Thorin Oakenshield. He was surprised when even Legolas, his soul bonded, looked for him. His heart tugged and yearned to reveal himself to the elven prince, but he stayed hidden. And as the years passed on, the black-haired elf removed himself from the front of the minds of those who knew him and lived in a peaceful background. At least until the year 3017 of the third age, when he saw a bright white glow of an earned rune for the first time in 76 years. Isa burned bright and cold, telling Durion that perhaps the time came to overcome the psychological block of his guilt. To face the challenge of his heritage head on.
And so he stopped hiding. First he visited the library of Minas Tirith, going through dusty scripts of old elven bloodlines. Then, as if luck shone upon him, he received a letter from Saruman the White, inviting him to Isengard and promising some leads. Durion did not hesitate and departed there immediately. His heart beat wildly at the prospect of a lead on his bloodline. So long he was haunted by the fear of being a true dark elf and now the answer was nearer than ever. Saruman greeted him at the gate of Isengard with a large, welcoming smile.
"Durion! Welcome to Isengard." The wizard called as the elf dismounted his horse.
"Thank you, Saruman the White." Durion smiled back and bowed accordingly. "Your letter said you could help me find my ancestry."
"That I can. Follow me." Saruman nodded and walked into the tower. Durion hurriedly followed. "Our meeting in Rivendell and your display of rune magic some 70 years ago greatly impressed me. Since then I have done some research on the forgotten magic and I believe I can help you find your roots with the knowledge I gained."
"Wonderful. In all the years I've been alive I had little hope to know the identity of my parents. And when Alatar and Pallando disappeared without a trace, the last bit of that hope evaporated with them. I am thankful that you took the time." Durion spoke as he looked around the tower in awe. Saruman led him through a more open room with only a single chair by the wall and a narrow pedestal. Whatever was sat on the pedestal was covered by a silk cloth. It caught Durion's attention, but Saruman led him right past it and into a study next door. In the middle of the study was a large table with the map of a whole Middle-Earth drawn on.
"Now, are you familiar with the rune Othala?" The wizard asked, turning to look at Durion when he approached the table.
"I know its meaning: heirloom, heritage and land of birth, but I don't know it. I haven't earned it."
"Hmm, so I thought. Luckily, I know how to teach it to you."
"W-what?" Durian staggers back in surprise. "The Blue Wizards taught me that runes can only be earned by deed of their meaning."
"I am the Leader of the Order of Istar. I know much that they do not." If Durion wasn't so distracted by his awe at the White Wizard, he might have been able to pick up on the sliver of irritation and pride that seeped into Saruman's voice. "It is quite simple, you shall draw the rune on your chest with your blood while I chant a spell."
"Oh, yes..." Durion blinks in shock at the simplicity. "That does sound very simple."
"Let's begin." Saruman handed the elf a beautiful decorative dagger.
"O-oh, right." Durian undid the front of his black tunic and pricked one of his fingers. Then he looked at Saruman, who nodded and started speaking a language the elf did not understand. Durian quickly began drawing. The moment his blood touched his chest, he felt strange heaviness settle over it. He kept his hand steady as he drew. When he was done he waited for the wizard to stop chanting and when Saruman did, most of the weight lifted. Most of it.
"Uh, feels... strange." Durian said, rubbing at his chest.
"Doesn't every rune?"
"N-not really..." The elf said, but was ignored. Saruman gestured to the map.
"Draw Othala over the map, and it shall reveal what you seek." Durian lifted his hand into the air above the map but stopped shortly, rethinking his decision. He turned back to Saruman.
"Mithrandir and Lady Galadriel said I shouldn't draw runes. They said that it alerts the enemy or something along those lines."
"No harm will come to you here. As long as I am here, the Tower of Isengard is the safest place for you to be." Saruman sighed, irritation now visible to Durion. "Now draw!" The elf flinched, but nodded. He drew.
The light of the rune was off. Instead of its typical starlight white, the glow was warmer, almost orange. Durion's senses whispered to him that something appeared in the room with the pedestal. Something evil. But he was too enchanted watching the rune change into a slithering line gliding over the map to pay the dark presence any mind. The line slid and glided over drawn mountains and rivers, then it settled. In Eregion.
"Eregion?" Frowned Durion, still looking at the map. "But it was destroyed by Sauron in the last years of the 17th century of the Second Age. More than 1700 years before I was born. I thought all the elves of Eregion were killed in that slaughter." The elf turned to Saruman. The wizard was looking at the map with a victorious smile.
"I found him, Master." The wizard spoke, confusing Durion. Over Saruman's shoulder, he caught a glimpse into the other room. The pedestal was bare of the cloth, and on it sat an obsidian orb. Durion recognised it. A Palantír. And in it was an eye. A flaming eye of Sauron. The snake-like pupil watching him.
Durion's heart quickened as the pieces fell together in one, terrific puzzle finally solved. Realization dawned upon him in the same moment his face became illuminated by Ausuz. The rune of insight and truth. He snatched it out of the air and ran, but the door leading out of the Palatír room slammed closed. An unseen force slammed him into a wall as Saruman began approaching the Palantír.
"Let me go!" Gasped out Durion.
"Did you not hear me? The safest place for you to be is right here." Saruman grinned and reached out for the orb. Durion did not waste the moment the wizard's eyes were off him and drew Raidho with his finger. The last thing he saw of Isengard were Saruman's panicked and angry eyes turning to him.
Oh gods, pls tell me you understood the first 3 paragraphs...
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In the Ruins//Legolas
FanfictionDurion's heritage is painted in mystery. Being the last elf born in the Second Age, with his mother dead and his caregivers nowhere to be found, he battles with what his future holds in store for him. What reason would a mother have for naming her c...
