The Memory of Nalanthor's Hill's

[MysaidesCaldier]

My eyes looked beyond what was in front of me. My eyes trying hard to ignore the carnage and searching for a sign of what is in my heart. The two hills that had once sheltered this patch of virgin green seemed to sag and buckle at the sight of what had come to pass in the place, that wind swept hills had once hid from all. The grass sagged yellow drenched in ash and gore. That day had seen some savage artist paint over in blood with a morose strokes clotting blood from one end to the other. The dust of the undead, covered my comrades as their lifeless stares all looked to the heavens whispering the same question. All the minds as the slipped to black must of had the same question of no more fires under stars? I closed the eyes of both my brother and father, looking back to the two hills I hoped that just over that hill was some other fair elf that could at least sing a sad song. Company for my long march home. This battle was won but I had yet to know the cost. I could see around me already it was too much to bear. At least home would be safe no undead to feast on Sidelwood blood and turn our loved ones to maddness and slavery. A nightmare for as I buried my brethren each by our customs night fell over the field. All to soon I saw how we had won nothing. For as I weeped over each and put them to rest that first night. I heard them come back calling my name. Asking me why I led them to d**nation why they must thirst as they do. In the years of men after the battle of Nalanthor's Hills I spent not a day less then one thousand and twenty-two. Sleepless fighting all those who I had once called my brother slaying them that had gave me their confidence as captain of the armies of our homeland. After the time I spent there no grass could grow under the ash. No tree could delve deep enough to escape the sickness of the land. Those that were once healthy and strong rotted away before my eyes and hulks of lifeless monuments lay all before me. I left there knowing that I had cursed my lands and my brethen. It was my confidence that doomed my troops and my homelands. What person can go home when all that would welcome him would ask of a loved one he had charge over? How do you face being the only person to come back from a "victory"?

[Norah]

(nods head gravely, hands folded)

[Solestdthecurse]

Good story, very interesting. It kept me reading it.
And a very sad way to end a story.

[MysaidesCaldier]

That chest had name on it. The relic they carried as some kind of sick alter was inscribed with a Myrimar name. My army of brave captains had fallen to them. I stood and there, plain as day was the name of the adviser of Gilliard. It was those elves of the west who brought the undead to my lands. It was they that sent me back a lone hero of a great defeat. I looked to the rows and rows of the pyres that I had made by hand for each of my comrades. I left knowing what I must do and who to take my vengenace on. I went home and was both hailed and feared for the story I told was bleak. An entire generation of elves that should have seen better days would not come home to song or their loved ones arms, but they would return land from which their souls sprang forth. The thanes were divided. Some said that this was not an act of war just the trapping of one bad dark elf. While others believed with me, that the very line of Myrimar was sick with weakness and vice. Ten years I told them what I saw and how their son's had fought and died by the thousands. I spilled forth my anger and hate and gave it to my people as a treasure of yore. I let them feed upon the fears I had inherited from seeing countless friend hacked down before my eyes. Finally as if to answer a long hidden desire..My homeland Sidelwood finally took action against the infidels. The answer to my riddle...You come back with indignation and hate...