ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Author's Note: I own nothing except the plot.
Not many know of the 400 years of Peace bestowed upon Middle-Earth since Sauron’s fall at the base of Mount Doom. With the exception of the Elves and the race of Wizards, known as the Istari, little is much known of that dark time before. The races of men are bound by mortality. As of now, something moves in the shadows and the immortal guardians of the realm cannot see what it is…
The Necromancer—one that can summon the darks and forbidden arts of Sorcery…which includes raising the spirits from their graves—has shown itself. Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, and the Wizard Gandalf the Grey grew in worry of the sight of the Morgul-Blade. Saruman the White dismissed it as nothing; a weapon from a by-gone age. But Gandalf the Grey knew otherwise and trusted his feelings.
It knew of Prince Thorin Oakenshield’s plans and predicted his travel to Erebor and to reclaim it. The Necromancer was the one that sent Azog the Defiler, Leader of the Orcs on the Dwarf’s trail. Smaug the Dragon belonged to it and it alone and it wasn’t going to let any Dwarf, men, or immortal stop it.
This set forth a new course in the Necromancer’s plan…
A small blind brown spider heard the howls of Wargs and felt the shakings of its tree through its hairs on its body. Feeling the tree branch it called home being shaken, disturbed it, making the little creature rear up on its back legs, ready to strike but no, it didn’t.
The spider calmed and bundled up like a cage, its legs circled around.
The servant of the Dark One was given new instructions. Sensing one descended from the Line of Durin, the spider climbed into his sleeve. The tree began to shake like mad as the Wargs swarmed below, snarling and snapping their jaws at the prey that was just out of reach.
Feeling a sharp tilt to the right, the web-spinner used tiny claws at the edge of its feet to hold on. The jerk it felt when the Dwarf hit something made it bare its fangs. Yet again it calmed and reminded to wait… Again, a tilt and a jerk, and it happened repeatedly until it came to a stop. The spider simply had had enough but once more, it calmed and patiently waited.
What this… It heard yells then suddenly a soaring raptor’s cry! The eagles made its hairs vibrate with fear but the screeches and wing beats were too large for the spider to be afraid of. Experiencing weightlessness beyond recognition put the spider on edge. The last nerve was drawing near but, the Dark One patiently reminded it to remain steadfast.
Soon, everything came to an end. When the web-spinner regained itself, there was a sudden jostle, and it finally had enough. It bore it fangs, waiting for words to cease its actions but nothing came…
Feeling an odd tickle on his right arm, Balin stopped on his path downwards off of Carrock and gave a nice swat over the site. He shook his fabric towards the flat stone surface. Out fell a dazed brown spider, weaving to find its balance. The white bearded Dwarf lined his lips and glared at the creature with disgust. He raised his boot and stepped on the creature, hearing a sickening crunch.
Noticing he was falling behind everyone (including Bombur), Balin quickened his pace. As he descended the stone steps, he couldn’t help but feel every bone in his body asking for rest. That was natural for his advance age but there was something else. He thought he didn’t hit himself too hard on the arm...yet he could feel it still throbbing and getting worse.
The old Dwarf stopped and took off his glove then pulled up on his sleeve. There, on the middle of his arm were two pin-pricks, oozing with blood. The spider had gotten off a bite just before he swatted it… Of all the inconvenience; first goblins, then Azog with his Orcs and Wargs show, and now this; what else in the next twelve hours in Durin’s Name?
Balin sighed. It was best to ask cousin Oin for some of that solution he had. If he still has it. Now where was Oin? For the matter of fact, where were the others? Seeing that he had fallen quite a distance behind, Balin hurried the best that his aching bones could down the naturally made steps.
Down at the bottom, Gandalf was already doing a head count. “… Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur make thirteen.” The wizard in grey wrinkled his brow. “Bilbo’s here. Someone’s missing?” He knew he had counted right. Just in case, he scanned over the company of Dwarves including a Hobbit.
Thorin and Dwalin gave a quick glance over everyone and instantly noted a distinct head of white missing.
“Balin’s missing,” Thorin stated.
“Aye, what’s keeping him?” said Dwalin.
Gandalf sighed. “Need I remind you, Master Dwarf, that Balin’s—” He never got to finish. For the person of subject had come up from behind him.
“—Here… I’m right here.” Balin was surprised. He even sounded tired.
“You all right?” asked the Prince.
The eldest Dwarf nodded. “Just tired…” He didn’t add he was hurting as well.
“Not to mention hungry,” Ori piped up.
The others seemed to agree with the words the oldest and youngest Dwarves were saying.
“Um, if I may,” Bilbo interjected. “I saw a stream not too far off from here as the Eagles flew us in. Maybe we can rest and grab a bite to eat there?”
The Dwarves liked the way their burglar was thinking but all heads gazed to Thorin. It had to be his word.
“Very well,” Thorin spoke up. “We’ll rest at the base of the stream.”
As the Dwarves and Bilbo cheered, Balin covered his right hand with his glove. He hid it behind his back and covered it with his sleeve. He didn’t think one tiny bite from a spider was too dangerous. He’ll ask Oin once they reached their resting spot.
TBC...
Not many know of the 400 years of Peace bestowed upon Middle-Earth since Sauron’s fall at the base of Mount Doom. With the exception of the Elves and the race of Wizards, known as the Istari, little is much known of that dark time before. The races of men are bound by mortality. As of now, something moves in the shadows and the immortal guardians of the realm cannot see what it is…
The Necromancer—one that can summon the darks and forbidden arts of Sorcery…which includes raising the spirits from their graves—has shown itself. Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, and the Wizard Gandalf the Grey grew in worry of the sight of the Morgul-Blade. Saruman the White dismissed it as nothing; a weapon from a by-gone age. But Gandalf the Grey knew otherwise and trusted his feelings.
It knew of Prince Thorin Oakenshield’s plans and predicted his travel to Erebor and to reclaim it. The Necromancer was the one that sent Azog the Defiler, Leader of the Orcs on the Dwarf’s trail. Smaug the Dragon belonged to it and it alone and it wasn’t going to let any Dwarf, men, or immortal stop it.
This set forth a new course in the Necromancer’s plan…
A small blind brown spider heard the howls of Wargs and felt the shakings of its tree through its hairs on its body. Feeling the tree branch it called home being shaken, disturbed it, making the little creature rear up on its back legs, ready to strike but no, it didn’t.
The spider calmed and bundled up like a cage, its legs circled around.
The servant of the Dark One was given new instructions. Sensing one descended from the Line of Durin, the spider climbed into his sleeve. The tree began to shake like mad as the Wargs swarmed below, snarling and snapping their jaws at the prey that was just out of reach.
Feeling a sharp tilt to the right, the web-spinner used tiny claws at the edge of its feet to hold on. The jerk it felt when the Dwarf hit something made it bare its fangs. Yet again it calmed and reminded to wait… Again, a tilt and a jerk, and it happened repeatedly until it came to a stop. The spider simply had had enough but once more, it calmed and patiently waited.
What this… It heard yells then suddenly a soaring raptor’s cry! The eagles made its hairs vibrate with fear but the screeches and wing beats were too large for the spider to be afraid of. Experiencing weightlessness beyond recognition put the spider on edge. The last nerve was drawing near but, the Dark One patiently reminded it to remain steadfast.
Soon, everything came to an end. When the web-spinner regained itself, there was a sudden jostle, and it finally had enough. It bore it fangs, waiting for words to cease its actions but nothing came…
Feeling an odd tickle on his right arm, Balin stopped on his path downwards off of Carrock and gave a nice swat over the site. He shook his fabric towards the flat stone surface. Out fell a dazed brown spider, weaving to find its balance. The white bearded Dwarf lined his lips and glared at the creature with disgust. He raised his boot and stepped on the creature, hearing a sickening crunch.
Noticing he was falling behind everyone (including Bombur), Balin quickened his pace. As he descended the stone steps, he couldn’t help but feel every bone in his body asking for rest. That was natural for his advance age but there was something else. He thought he didn’t hit himself too hard on the arm...yet he could feel it still throbbing and getting worse.
The old Dwarf stopped and took off his glove then pulled up on his sleeve. There, on the middle of his arm were two pin-pricks, oozing with blood. The spider had gotten off a bite just before he swatted it… Of all the inconvenience; first goblins, then Azog with his Orcs and Wargs show, and now this; what else in the next twelve hours in Durin’s Name?
Balin sighed. It was best to ask cousin Oin for some of that solution he had. If he still has it. Now where was Oin? For the matter of fact, where were the others? Seeing that he had fallen quite a distance behind, Balin hurried the best that his aching bones could down the naturally made steps.
Down at the bottom, Gandalf was already doing a head count. “… Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur make thirteen.” The wizard in grey wrinkled his brow. “Bilbo’s here. Someone’s missing?” He knew he had counted right. Just in case, he scanned over the company of Dwarves including a Hobbit.
Thorin and Dwalin gave a quick glance over everyone and instantly noted a distinct head of white missing.
“Balin’s missing,” Thorin stated.
“Aye, what’s keeping him?” said Dwalin.
Gandalf sighed. “Need I remind you, Master Dwarf, that Balin’s—” He never got to finish. For the person of subject had come up from behind him.
“—Here… I’m right here.” Balin was surprised. He even sounded tired.
“You all right?” asked the Prince.
The eldest Dwarf nodded. “Just tired…” He didn’t add he was hurting as well.
“Not to mention hungry,” Ori piped up.
The others seemed to agree with the words the oldest and youngest Dwarves were saying.
“Um, if I may,” Bilbo interjected. “I saw a stream not too far off from here as the Eagles flew us in. Maybe we can rest and grab a bite to eat there?”
The Dwarves liked the way their burglar was thinking but all heads gazed to Thorin. It had to be his word.
“Very well,” Thorin spoke up. “We’ll rest at the base of the stream.”
As the Dwarves and Bilbo cheered, Balin covered his right hand with his glove. He hid it behind his back and covered it with his sleeve. He didn’t think one tiny bite from a spider was too dangerous. He’ll ask Oin once they reached their resting spot.
TBC...
Not many know of the 400 years of Peace bestowed upon Middle-Earth since Sauron's fall. As of now, something moves in the shadows and the immortal guardians of the realm cannot see what it is… The Necromancer has shown itself and it knows of Prince Thorin Oakenshield's plans. A threat is sent upon the line of Durin and strikes an unlikely victim. AU Story. Movie and Book Based. Balin and Thorin mentor. Balin and Dwalin Brother-bonding.
© 2013 - 2024 LadyHexaKnight
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In