The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Part 2: Prologue

Caledorn observed the advancing army from the concealment of the trees, his eyes narrowing as he meticulously counted their numbers. Over ten thousand soldiers comprised the ominous force, their forms discernible even from a distance. Among them, trolls and men moved in unison, but it was the dark horseman leading the charge whom Caledorn recognized as Arnakhor that drew the dark elf's attention. The warlord now adorned himself in heavy black plated armor, a cruel horned helmet crowning his visage, and wielded a menacing black sword. Arnakhor's gaze seemed to sweep the surroundings, and for a fleeting moment, Caledorn felt an unnerving connection as the warlord's glowing blue eyes locked onto him. The impossibility of being seen at such a distance didn't alleviate the discomfort it stirred within him.

Unexpectedly, a roar resonated from the mountains, diverting Caledorn's attention. A grey shadow emerged, a serpentine head scanning the enemy force below. It circled over the army, roared once more, and then swooped down towards Caledorn's position. The thunderous sound of its passing echoed like a hurricane as it flew over the trees and positioned itself slightly behind the army. Caledorn recognized the dragon, Aldernari, with a simmering hatred in his eyes.

Swiftly, he retraced his steps and found four other elves, including Ariel, the one he had conversed with in Rivendell. Meeting her gaze, he issued a decisive command, "Go to Mirkwood. Tell the king that Caledorn requires as many able-bodied archers as he can spare."

Ariel, visibly worried, responded, "But that could take too much time. We may not have that long."

"Do what you can. If we can protect this place, we will," Caledorn replied, watching her sprint off into the trees. He then turned to the other two elves, urgency in his voice, "Go to the Grey Havens and summon as many elves as you can, and do it quickly!" The two elves gracefully leaped into action, disappearing into the forest.

Now alone, Caledorn knew his personal task. He retrieved the locket, a cherished memento of his family, and gazed at their portraits one last time. A sense of determination filled him as he put a finger to his mother's cheek. Drawing his sword, he shifted his attention back to the looming dragon, hate burning in his eyes. Resolute, he stowed the locket and made a commanding gesture. Twelve green-cloaked elves, each wielding a longbow, materialized from the shadows and stood before him, awaiting his orders. Caledorn signaled them to follow, and they vanished into the forest, raising their bows in a silent salute before blending seamlessly into the foliage.