Epilogue part 2: Dawn Rising

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Seven years after the destruction of the one ring

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The land was bathed in the cloth of night. Here, the stars barely penetrated the gloom that hung over the land, nor was there anyone to appreciate the stars. Howls of wargs haunted the stale air, the stillness of terror and death froze in the wind. Rarely did one sound of mind travel this part of the land, only those who did not care for being respectful passed through them. Rarely did one from the west come this way, for why travel towards evil?

Why travel across a landscape of bones?

In the near darkness, browning bones lay in death. Haphazardly, the half-buried human remains stuck from the dusty ground ready to trip and ensnare victims. Old, lackluster swords lay dully by skeletal hands waiting for the day they're taken up again. Shields bearing faded emblems and etches of their homelands lay discarded—having failed their owner—letting the ground bury them in shame.

Long ago the metal armor had been stolen from the dead, melted down to create weapons made not by the hands of men or elves. The leather was left, becoming old and tattered through the years. The material was left baggy on the bones, flying like a flag in a funeral procession, until finally, it gave up, being buried by the timeless dust and pebbles. And the wind howled across the flat land with a cry of sorrow and dismay, weaving its haunting voice around discarded bones.

The rocky, dried out soil slowly was moved by the sorrowful wind as if the very earth wanted to cover up the gruesome deaths that had happened here. As if the earth wanted to bury the fallen while the living went into hiding, too scared to even honor their dead.

Insects crawled over the decaying lifeless, in and out of eye sockets, around and around rib bones. The feast of an age for these tiny bugs had come to a pass, leaving only the bones picked clean.

Only the Valar watched over this land, not even those who lay behind the Black Gate. The battle of Morannon left unspoken. The dead left and dishonored.

Even the gloom tried hiding Varda's eyes of light in the sky, even the ground tried to bury all those dead in its hold. Mouths barely spoke of the event, for all wished to ignore it.

Yet, the barest of light from Elbereth's stars peaked through to keep vigil and Manwe's winds keeping the soil from covering the dead completely.

And years passed, and still, those on high in Valinor did not forget.

The time had come.

The sun's first rays of dawn stretched their fingers through the sky, tentative at first, then strongly and boldly. As morning appeared, an explosion of light rocketed the battlefield in an eerie silence.

The skeletal bodies of orcs, men, women, and elves lay holding a nonexistent breath as light shined on their bones, then faded.

A fallen elf lay unharmed amidst the long-ago carnage. Skin fair and bright—yet still marred. Fingers nimble—yet still calloused. Hair of winter's breath—yet still long and youthful. Pointed ears—no longer rounded like a mortal's.

And as dawn rose to its peak, bathing the land in rebirth, green eyes opened.

*********

"But in the end, it's only a passing thing... this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer"

         —Samwise Gamgee

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