This story takes place before the first war the invasion of the Orcs from the Dark Portal.
A warm breeze gently made its way across the greens hills of Arathi, the long grass swaying to music only it could hear. And making its way to the walls of Stromgarde, white and pristine, the giant oak gates open wide to the world for there was no threat this day, this was a day of celebration.
Three young boys ran across the ramparts yelling and beating each other with wooden swords, the crack as they parried blows could be heard only faintly over the celebration far deeper past the city gates. Guards stared but said nothing they had more important things to worry about then boys falling off the walls.
Crack A small light brown haired boy clutched the top of his head, his sword clattering to the stone ramparts. "Ouch, Pere that hurt, not so hard."
Perenador stood over the younger boy grinning with excitement and power he had over his younger brother. Pere stepped closer and put the heel of his boot on his shoulder and pushed him down to the ground, and laughing. "Don't worry Earêndil I will make your death a quick one, only a couple bruises."
"No wait. Let me go!" Earêndil, struggled to break free from the boot now crushing his chest, and knock away the sword pressed to his neck.
Perenador's knees gave out and he was shoved back hitting the ground. As he tried to get back up, he heard something move through the air and felt the pain of another wooden sword smash against the side of his face he let a cry of pain and passed out.
When he regained consciousness, his head was spinning and blood covered the left side of his face. Earêndil was being helped up by a muscular boy with shoulder length jet black hair, who turned and glared at him. "Father told you to watch after him. Not to beat him to a pulp."
"Aberrilas, I thought you would be training." Perenador was always jealous of his brother, a born warrior, only a year younger then him but a half foot taller and much quicker by far. Perenador preferred his books and trying to learn spells, which upset his father to no end, and never had a problem showing his displeasure.
"They let me come see father and King Thoras return home from the Hinterlands." For the last three months the King and his father had taken a large regiment to the Hinterlands trying to solve a troll uprising that had been causing problems. "A scout just arrived and said they where within a stones throw of the keep."
The rustle of armor sounded like thunder as it echoed off the walls and the reflection of the sun from their armor danced on the pristine white walls of the keep. The king at the front of the regiment followed by a hundred knights wearing the red and white of Stromgarde, covered in what he could only assume was troll blood.
The boys looked through the crowd to find their father, Earêndil spotted him first and shoved the other two out of the way and waved his arms yelling "Father... Father!"
Their father looked up at them through his helmet. He waved but he did not smile. Their father never smiled at least not at him, he thought he had seen him smile at his brothers once but that my have just been his imagination. He was adorned in shining steel armor with a tabard across his chest, a black sea of the night sky with two swords, one of gold shattering another of white. The crest of house Shattersword, his house a proud house an old house.
Teirvel, awoke in his cot at Galen's fall and rubbed his rotting eyes. "A dream nothing more a miserable dream." As he sat up he remember what the Elf Iudith had said to him earlier that day. "You have become everything you once sought to destroy, everything you once hated. Think of the children of Stromgarde, and the fear they will have for you. You wish to save them from hell, and do what is right for the people... But is it right?"
Reassuring himself he spoke softly as he walked over to the his desk that was covered in scattered papers and potions. "Of course it is the right choice, the people of Arathi need their rightful heir, and undeath would bring them peace from the endless war that has plagued this land for centuries. And as for the children..." Teirvel sighed and shook his head. "The children of Stromgarde fear hunger and sleeping in the cold, not me." Looking at the map of Arathi, he spoke to himself again. "The Prince can save them from the hunger and cold, and I will help him do so." Teirvel laughed. "And I will put an end to my brothers in the process and the keepers."
Edited by Teirvel on 12/17/2012 9:20 AM PST