Edit: The Wanderer's Tavern has been rebooted. To find accurate information, scroll down the thread and you shall have it!

- Oerath.

First of all, I am glad that I can participate in your thread. It feels good already.

By the way, good start. I already read the one that you had in journals. Quite a blast to begin a tale. A woman, a quest, a way to prove things. Reminds me of King Thingol's task to Beren.

I hope you like of my character. In fact, Saegron Ithael used to be one of Oerath's many names/identities, but I decided to create a completely new and fresh character for him. (Yup, Oerath Windsoul is also one of my original characters.)

I can't promise constant participating, but I'll try to throw in something as often as I can. One of my new year's promises will be to get more active as a writer.

I've a story that I will bring forth in this thread. Darbeian is the working title and it's a sci-fi/fantasy story with a bit of military stuff mixed in. (Mostly at the start of the story.)

Edit: I've lots of stuff to do during the next few days, but I'll still try to post my things, before the weekend.

Patience is virtue and time is just time.

Thank you!

Good story so far, Durin.

I must apologize for my absence. At the moment, I'm spending some holidays in northern Finland, so that's why I've been off the site.

I think that I'll just let this year go and let the new year come and post my things then.

For now, I've planned to write some kind of poem, celebrating the new year and I'll post it by tomorrow night.

So, until the next time.

- Oerath.

And here comes the reboot of The Wanderer's Tavern. The thread fell down too quickly and was left in a complete silence.

But I am here to put an end to that silence.

So, let's go through the rules once more and keep it simple this time around..

The Wanderer's Tavern is a place, where you can post your 'campfire' tales. So write a tale, post it, throw in some role-playing elements if you want and let us feast on your text. I'll be giving guaranteed feedback to each and every post and their respective owners.

And here are our humble rules:

1. Be friendly and kind towards each taleteller.

2. You can create and design your post in almost any way you like, just keep in mind that you cannot throw in any sexual/adult stuff. It's highly forbidden.

3. You can also post your tale in parts, though I won't deny anyone the right to post a longer tale all at once.

4. Memorize this little piece of text: 'Come, come inside before the night falls, there are many tales to be told inside these stony and silent walls. Come, come inside before it is too late, here you'll find proper shelter, food and lots of ale.'

That will be all.

I shall start writing a tale, so expect it to be ready sometime after the holidays. Also, I want to be true to my style, so a poetic tale it shall be.

- Oerath Windsoul, The Tavernkeeper.

I might just have the work as ready to be posted, but I won't proceed with too much of a haste. I'll read it through and shape it as much as possible. This one will indeed be a poetry oriented narrative with some exceptions, as always. Little story parts there and there. And I will post the whole thing in two parts.

I'm sorry for being late with it. I just want to do things with patience and care these days.

So, I'll post it either today or tomorrow.

'Till then, cheers and thanks for waiting.

I don't have a pre-story to accompany this poetical work, but this is a part of my long running 'Arcadianth Tales'.

I'll come up with a good setting for the story one of these days, though as I stated in my opening post; you can design your post in any way you like. If you just want to post the tale you've been working on - in it's purest form - you're free to do so.

The Champion of Corrupted Fire (Part I)

The wind is blowing ruthlessly

And the heavy snowfall won't leave him alone

As he continues to tread onward carelessly

At his own peril, for he's already hallucinating and cold to the last bone

His long beard is frozen so is his black hair

His hands are bleeding and his legs are numb

His eyes have gone dark blue and his face is so pale

His body is completely worn out and yet he still carries on

So what kind of power keeps this man going

Though he's already so close to death

Not even the endless blizzard seems to be able to stop him

He's just not ready to surrender his last breath

To him..

Coldness is just a dark illusion

A mind's most simple and most dreadful delusion

Yet something that can always be battled against

With sheer power of will and unwavering determination

He defies the touch of coldness, his endurance is beyond imagination

He's the champion of corrupted fire, his burning heart is full of rage

No snowfall can cease him from moving onward

No blizzard can freeze him, no gust of wind can take him down

The undying will of fire drives him ever so forward

Towards his ultimate goal.. To steal the winter's icy crown

And if none dares to oppose his might and stop him

He'll indeed storm through the great gates of coldness

Once he manages to steal the might of winter, the whole world shall go dim

For he'll send forth an all-powerful gust of wind, bringing forth only destruction and darkness

The world trembles..

Dorwus, the first son of winter stands powerless..

For a very dreadful being graces..

This realm with it's malevolent presence..

Zael'thrim Ethios, The Corrupted Firelord

Has emerged from the depths of the world in his spiritual form

He has returned to grant more power to his own flesh and blood

'Do not surrender.. This coldness cannot claim you, my son.. Gorthum..'

Now Gorthum's eyes are blazing with red

He has been granted more power

The spirit of fire and corruption inside him has awakened

From it's long and patient slumber

So which will prevail, fire or ice

Or will Lord Caen be called forth into the fight

Must fire be fought with fire, eye to eye

Will Dorwus hold his ground or will he be lost into the night

'Dorwus makes the right decision. He quickly gives the wind a message to be delivered to his friend, Caen. Hopefully, he receives the message and answers to the call of the first son of winter.'

But will the fateful child of fire hear his call?

The dragonmaster and a furious warrior, Caen the Firelord

He could very possibly have a chance against Gorthum

On the back on his scarlet dragon he would ride forth

And show to the champion of corrupted fire, what it means to be the wielder of fire and truth

Far in the distant horizon

A high mountain can be seen

On it's edge, stands a mysterious man, so wise and bold

That even the sky listens to him and so do both the animals and the trees

His name is Caen and he was born into this world

By the will of the solar queen, for he's the son of the sun

A true son of fire and the eternal flame in his heart has burned

Ever since the ancient times, when this world was still so young..

'Someone is calling for me, Varthax, I can feel it. The whispers are getting louder and clearer and the wind seems to be guiding those whispers.. Directly to me. Could this be Master Windsoul's doing? Either way, Caen the Firelord never denies a challenge. I shall answer to the call, whoever it is that needs me.'

Caen silences for a moment and kneels down. He opens his mouth to devour the nearby winds. His eyes change from red to green and back. Then he rises up and speaks to his dragon, Varthax.

'The wind has spoken to me for one last time and now our mission is clear. There's a battle going on in the north. Dorwus is losing to some so called 'the champion of corrupted fire'. It seems that he's indeed the son of Zael'thrim Ethios. That corrupted whelp of a god.. Well, Dorwus may be having difficulties fighting against fire, but I shall defeat this champion. He's no match for someone who was born to be the keeper of fire and bringer of elemental balance of the world. Varthax, let's go! We've a fight to win.. Firelord or not, the flame of righteous shall prevail.'

And so Caen decided to ride forth into the battle to face Gorthum. He has a long way to go, so will Dorwus be able to hold his ground. More importantly, will anyone else come to his aid. Surely The Guardians are watching, but do they see the situation dangerous enough to interfere. Their interference might change a lot of things, but so far, they've chosen to remain silent. They surely know about Dorwus and that Caen is on his way to aid him. Mysterious are the ways of The Guardians, but so it was written that should a lesser being oppose the peace of Arcadianth, the demigods, the children of fate and sons of the seasons would be the ones fighting in the front. Only when the danger is grave, The Guardians would join the battle to prevent greater chaos and destruction. But surely, Oerath is ready to interfere at any time of his choosing, for he's the mighties of the four and Dorwus is a former apprentice of his. Surely he wouldn't let one of his apprentice's fall in the hands of the corrupted firelord.

To be continued..

I thank you for reading it, Curufinwe. Also, thanks for the feedback. You couldn't have said it better and you're right, some of my linings would definitely benefit from being a little bit more terse. In my works, there's always bound to be lot of changes; even tempo changes, 'cause to me, writing is like making music. But I guess long watery is present a bit too much in some sense, though it often feels like something I can't change. If I should find doubt in my own words, it would ruin some of the magic I try to pour into my texts.

By the way, the next part will have to wait for a while, since I've got plenty of different things going on at the moment. Different kinds of works. I've been in a very good writing mood since the late November. This year's going to be a blast and these days - I'm going with the flow of subjects again. I don't close anything out, so who knows..

Next, I might write something dreadful and dark or conjure up a love story out of the blue.

Looking forward to your tale with some good ale to read it with on one of these spring evenings.

Sigh, not a bad thing, but I guess tomorrow's going to be devoted to making a fresh lyric for the band and to add something new to my newest one that apparently needs a lot more of linings to work as a song lyric. I came to that conclusion when I got to measure the length of our newest song during our last playing session. (Unfortunately, I can't tell more about that.)

But with all of that said, I've to try to keep the whole weekend off from writing; mainly to re-charge the giant battery called the human mind.

- Oerath.

Well, Balrog, you said you'd write something. And that's what you did.

I'd say this is the beginning of something good. You went right into some details, and quite descriptively - you showed me a picture, a very good picture about the world your character lives in. I see great promise and this is definitely a fated sign of things to come. This is the beginning and I hope that this thread will prove to be a success, a breakthrough.

This site would definitely need something like that, and if we can gain some attention, who knows how big this thread might get.

So my hopes are very high, but only time will tell was I right or wrong about this thread.

Gror, it was short but I liked of it. After reading the text, I could already link it's contents to science fiction and that sort of stuff. Quite strange, but hey, well done.

I hope you'll come up with more of the sort.

Sounds good and if you want to post your story here in the future, you're very much welcome to do so. Just remember that this thread's designed for individual tale telling.

In the Further Adventures of Brego the Ranger there will be characters like: Frodo, Sam, Gollum, Faramir. Also imrahil, Forlong, Hurin, crusty Denethor, and Beregond and Pippin. Gandalf will be in it during the third part of the trilogy and so will Beregond and Pippin.

Temporarily edited! Will be back!

The ancient city of Arnhem was burning. After what had supposed to have been a walkover had developed into a horror story.  Bitter combat between two foes for days had reduced Arnhem, Oosterbeek, and Wolfheze into a frenzy of death. But still the men at the bridge of Arnhem held, fighting for the piece of ground that would change the fortunes of the war. Col. John Frost of the 2nd battalion was handling his troopers well, for they had inflicted  three times as many casualties on the enemy than their opponents had done. But his small force which  had started out with 750 was being ground into submission. "No surrendering, for it is a futile and deadly struggle and we must stick it out until Horrock's column arrives," Frost would say to his paras. How did the finest Division in the Allied army come to this, communications were down between most units, and the only ways of sending reports to Browning's command was by a crackling Artillery radio that Maj. Gen. Urquhart's  division had, Frost was alone on the bridge, rescue attempts from other Battalions had been bogged down in blood. How did it come to this?

Alright, I took time to read all of the recent posts here and here I go.

@ Gror and Balrogs: That which is short in text can also be good. I sure enjoyed reading 'em through. Both were quite descriptive right there and the imagery was good.
Reading Gror's text threw me within a single moment and I was held there, until I had finished reading it. Fascinating. And Balrogs, you apparently wanted to take me straight to Valinor. I liked of it!

Great that we've got this thread up and going. I guess I'll post something too in the days to come, perhaps a continuation to my first post.

Amras and Curufinwe: Same goes here, very good work. I mean, you folks have given me short, yet good and rock solid posts. What a promising start for us.

So bullets fly, people fall and the war rages on, Amras? First time I read someone posting something about war. It was new and I liked of it. 'The ancient city of Arnhem'. Not bad.

An ancient and forgotten cavern, sand and bookshelves. Untouched by mortals. I'd sure like to read more of this. Very mysterious.

I hope you folks are going to continue some of these, 'cause I could already see all of these posts expand into a part-by-part series. But that, of course, is yours to decide.

Thanks Oerath, I enjoyed writing that short post and will continue to expand on it with more posts of similar length. It took surprisingly long to write though, so don't expect anything from me till next week. Basically what I want to do is write (with no plan) something odd but somewhat meaningful and interesting, then expand on that till I have a complete story.

"I  think that Montgomery is going to follow through with his plans, Monty always has great ones," said Digby.

"You think the Field Marshall will really go through with his airborne drop, we don't know where and we don't now how, i think the Supreme Commander knows, but still, how our new Divisional Commander take the news, for he must now about it now, Browning is playing aloof, but this is still quite a hole in the yardam." Frost knew that Montgomery, the most brilliant Commander of infantry in  the war was a cautious man, but it always came through, but Monty, with airborne troops, this was something completely out of the hat. The game was soon over,the 1st Battalion had utterly routed Frost's team, although Father Egan's heroism in the game almost pushed them over the threshold. But this did not matter, for both units, who were on leave, talked this over with their wives or in the pub. Most talkative of these chaps was Tatham, his wild tales filling the room with the smoke of his hand carved pipe." The Generals now something, but it;s all in Browing's head, he is the finest dressed man in the Royal service, and that is why a fancy to fashion myself into!" One man, Clifford Mervin, from the 1st battalion Company  A was especially listening to Tatham.

"I have heard from Col. Dobie That we are supposed to be having a drop off in Holland somewhere, but the rest is secret, for it is to be explained ere the full moon," said the grinning Mervin. Frsot spluttered halfway in his Sherry.

" Explain my good man, for my batman Wicks will right it down,"said Frost, tensing with nerves.  Clifford Mervin slightly shuffled up to a salute and then spoke.

"All I know Sir is that we see action by September 17, and in Holland.

In Britain, hundreds of Waco and Horsa Gliders were being assembled for this "great operation." Day in and dayout, Montgomery had briefed chief of the Airborne Command Gen. Browning about his daring plan, code named: "Operation Market-Garden. Browning then in turn briefed the Maj Gen. Urquhart of the 1st Airborne Battalion, then so on and so forth. Soon, Frost and his 2nd battalion was finally let into the light by Gen. Lathbury, their brigade's Gen. "He Frosty, is  that the 82nd American airborne will seize a few bridges near Eindhoven. Then the 101st will take the important bridge of Nijmegen. Finally and most difficult to hold will be the bridges at Arnhem, which our "chaps" will be taking, Yours, Colonel Frost is the most Important, the Arnhem bridge, which connects the Holland and German borders by using the Rhine river. Our objective, is that Horrock's XXX Corps will break it's way out of the Belgium border, and then, our divisions will take the Bridges, which Horrock's, will simply run over a carpet of Paras. Horrock's will then run over the Arnhem bridge, you chaps will hold for two days, and then, into the Ruhr, the industrial land of Germany and then, Berlin.We could win the War by the end of 44.

Amras, could you post that map somewhere else or shorten it's overall width. It doesn't fit to the intended space of an ordinary post/message. Else, it's a good looking map.

A Preview of 'Rise of Saerloth Reidell Melrethis II'

Part IV: Discoveries In The Dim Of Night

Two meetings with the king and some other important business followed later that day, but once again, my duties ended at approximately six o'clock in the evening. I grabbed my things, wished everyone a pleasant evening and started to walk towards my own quarters. It was so misty outside. The sky was so cloudy that no stars could be seen and the atmosphere was quite eerie. And after walking a little further, I suddenly arrived to an unfamiliar turn, from which there were three directions to take. Three different passages to choose from. Had I accidentally taken a different path, for I had not been in this part of the castle before.. I was sure of it. No candles were lit, there was none else around besides me. How could it be?

No.. I was certain I had taken the right turns, yet there I stood, unable to identify my location inside the castle. Then suddenly, like it was intended to be so, I remembered father's words: 'When you face the pathway dividing to three, the most right path will guide thee.'

Without a doubt, this is what he was talking about. I noticed an old candelabrum lying on a table nearby, so I grabbed it and well, even luck seemed to be on my side, since I found a box of matches from my jacket's left pocket. After I had lit all candles of the candelabrum, I drew in some breath and then I made my decision. I decided to venture forth into the most right passage. And more I kept walking, more the darkness increased. it was so dark.. if it wasn't for the candelabrum, I wouldn't have seen my own feet further in that darkness. The passage seemed so strange. For one, there were no guards and no servants. There was basically none around except for me.

And for second, the decorations and statues started to differ from the usual. As if this passage didn't even belong to the castle itself. A little further, stood a long line of bookshelves, filled with different kind of history books. At that moment, I realized that this was it. I could suddenly hear my father's voice very loudly, as if he was standing next to me, saying: 'And make sure that you read a book called: Melrethis Family History...'

Without hesitation, I started to go through the books on the shelves and then one book on the third shelf caught my attention. It bore the crest of our family. I quickly removed it from it's place and read out the title: 'Melrethis Family History', then I noticed that there was something behind that book's resting place.. A wooden lever. Once again, I drew in some breath and then.. I pulled it. And suddenly, the bookshelf made a clicking sound and started to open sideways, leaving an open passage in front of me. This without a doubt, was the entrance to the secret room. I entered on the other side and found another lever that I could pull, and by doing so, the bookshelf closed behind me. Leaning the candelabrum further, its light revealed a sight that made me take a few steps back. Such hellish and evil paintings, malevolent looking statues, stony gargoyle heads on the walls and a long black carpet that looked like to cover the entire floor of the passage. And against the walls, more bookshelves were standing in line, but this time, books on the shelves were totally something out of this world. Books bearing titles such as: 'Arts of Necromancy', 'Life Is A Dream' and 'Ancient Gods and Demons'.

I stopped for a moment to notice that my forehead was sweaty and my hands were shaking from fear. I could feel the room's touch of pure evil deep in my heart and my soul. And I could almost hear a demonic choir singing on the background, their dark singing becoming louder with each step I took. Silently, I thought: 'What on earth.. Is this place?'

I was close to turn back and return the way I had come, but something inside me.. Some strange force.. It felt like I was being ordered to continue treading along the passage. My legs didn't answer to any of my commands. All I could do, was to turn my gaze from one wall to another and witness the horror of the things in the passage.. Over and over again..

'So this is why father said to me about getting frightened and going insane, well he sure was right.' I thought, as I carefully continued to tread forth in the passage. Now there were bookshelves on both sides, very much like in a library. Then yet another flashback brought the following words to my attention: 'There's a library..' - That was part of a sentence father said to me, just before he passed away. Something else changed too as I walked on. The paintings.. They had changed from their already evil nature to something even more sinister. Now each painting displayed a demon with each demon's name written under the picture. Names such as: 'Ygmael, 'Lythox', 'Asprah', 'Xilian' and 'Bergul'.

Most interesting. Now there was absolutely no doubt about it. Our family had something to do with these demons, 'cause I could somehow recognize each of them in the paintings. I was sure I had read about them, but I just didn't recall when. 'Could it be that this is part of the secret; that we serve demons? No, that can't be it, but there sure must be some kind of connection.' I thought. Then suddenly, I could see the end of the passage, it's end expanding into a circle shaped opening; like a room of it's own. There were more bookshelves standing against the walls, everything aligned in a circle shape. And above the bookshelves, there were four large portraits on the wall. I stepped a little further, so that I could see them more clearly with the light of my candelabrum.

And I wasn't even surprised to realize that they were portraits of my father, Sebastian; my grandfather, Sevallon; my grand grandfather Sorennos; and my grand grand grandfather Severos. They all looked so young and mighty in the portraits. And it was only then, when my eyes caught a black pedestal standing alone in the middle of the area. The carpet beneath it was also circle shaped and its pattern formed a burning pentagram. The pedestal looked very, very old. No.. Not old, but more like ancient. It had long claws on top of it, claws that held a black book in their demonic clutches. The book was more than just black, its color was blacker than night itself. And as I stepped closer to the book, I could suddenly hear a terrifying voice speaking inside my head, saying:

'Young Saerloth Reidell Melrethis II, Son of Sebastian Reidell Melrethis II.. So.. You've finally entered into my lair of madness.. How bold of you considering your age.. Do you not feel the insanity starting to take a firm hold of you.. If not, then proceed.. Open the book and realize the TRUTH!'

I decided that since I haven't got to write anything longer, fit to be posted unto this thread, I could very well give you a little preview of my longest novella (on-going) to date.

Enjoy!

September 17th appeared closer now than it had been a half a month ago. Eisenhower had given it yes and the officers of Shaef we busy setting together the oil, gases, munitions, and gliders for the Operation. The Ist British Airborne Division led by the 40 year old Roy Urquhart, who was not a airborne trooper ever, but was still ready for the task and was both admired and loved by his peers. operations was undertaken by LT. Col.  Charles Mackenzie, Urquharts aide. The Gso for Air was Major David Madden. Intelligence and Radio Operations was undertaken by Maj. Hugh Maguire. The 1st Parachute Brigade was  led by the great Brigadier Lathbury. The 1st Parachute Battalion was led by tough- as -nails Col. Dobie, grim and stern, Dobie was a man the enemy feared. The 2nd Battalion was of course John Frost, mainly, the brave man was a jovial, but smart and avid commander. His Battalion was to undertake the "Lion" route to take the Arnhem highway bridge.   "Cf" Gough's Recon  radio jeeps would rush ahead of the paras and take the Arnhem highway Bridge in lightning speed. The much loved Roman Catholic Chaplain was Father Egan. Major Digby Tatham  Warter was the sole commander of A Company, Umbrella and all. The 3rd Parachute Battalion was under Col. Fitch, a peppery, but as always, tough under fire. The 1st parachute squadron was led by Captain Eric Mackay. 4th Parachute was commanded by the  Brig. Hackett, a fiery man but a great leader of men. The 1st Airlanding Brigade was a glider borne Brigade was headed off by Brig. Philip "pip" Hicks. The rest was the divisional units under Sheriff Thompson and so forth, Already the Division was   set for their first terrible conflict, and their last. John Frost busied himself with Golf during off times. ( Not all the Units from the different Brigades are here, just the ones in this tiny adventure of mine) Feel free to comment!

Curufinwe, Amras and Gror. Yep, the usual happy tale-posting-fellas.

I should've known. Anyway, good to see you all once again. I've returned safely from my holidays, and I'm very much ready to write something and post something too.

I shall get to it after the weekend.

'Till then, I'll go through your posts and let you know what I think of 'em, though I know that they'll be good.

Cheers!

Well, here's something a little darker, since such requests were made.

And so I met the Messenger of Death

Last night I awoke to a haunting nightmare

I was sweating and I couldn't stop shaking

It wasn't just a mere nightmare and I knew that I wouldn't ever dare

To speak about it to anyone.. 'Cause it would change everything..

For in that strange and disturbing dream, I was walking in a nearby forest

And like always, birds were singing to me and the weather was most beautiful

But good dreams can change instantly and all of sudden, I started to feel immense pain in my chest

And then I saw him, a hooded man behind the trees.. A man with an aura so dark and dreadful

And at that moment, the sky went dim, the clouds darkened and the wind became very cold

And then I realized that I had seen him before.. In another dream.. In the forgotten days of old..

The past echoes with power..

Truths are being revealed..

He, who dares to walk in the forest until the late hour..

Shall now be granted a meeting with the deceased..

'I found myself too scared to move. My body wouldn't listen to me, it wouldn't obey any of my commands. I could only stand there and watch, as the hooded man neared me, one step by step. Then.. He just stopped. And at that moment, something strange caught my attention. His left hand, it was.. rotten and showed signs of decaying. Then he placed that hand against a pinetree, scratching it's wood with his long and bloody nails. And then.. from the cover of his black robe, he took out a very long scythe, one of which marks and engravings I had seen before. I just couldn't remember where.. Or when. But the most disturbing thing occurred, when the man suddenly glanced at me, lifting his hood a little, revealing his gruesome face. Those faces, I still can't shake the imprinted image of them that the event itself left lingering inside my weak human mind. The right half of his face was wholly skeletal, nothing but bone. But the left half.. Just like his hand, it had flesh on it, but that half of his face was rotten, with worms and other disgusting insects crawling in and out off his eyesocket. That vile sight made me so sick that I was close to vomit, but instead, I closed my eyes, shook my head and tried to tell myself that none of this was even real. Well, little it mattered, little it helped, for when I opened my eyes again, he was suddenly standing right.. in front of.. me. I took a few careless steps behind, staggering, falling on my back unto dirty and rainy ground. And at that moment of pure fear, I realized that there was no escape. This was it. But then something truly unexpected happened. The man himself took a few steps back, switching into a most strange stance. He hit the scythe deep unto soil and stretched his other hand towards me, pointing me with it.. And then he spoke out the words that have been lurking inside my head ever since. His voice was full of malevolence, death and all that is unholy. And each time he spoke, I felt same agonizing pain in my chest I had felt earlier. And it felt like someone was trying to pull my heart out with bare hands. And this is the conversation that followed..'

'Do you know the meaning of life and death, mortal one?'

'I don't unders-'

'DO YOU KNOW THE MEANING OF LIFE AND DEATH.. death.. death...'

'Ye, yes. I do.'

'You say that you know the meaning of life and death, yet your words are few and they fail you. For I can see it from your face, sense it from your way of speech and feel it in your empty words. You, mortal one, lack it all. Confidence, certainty and truth. Fear has taken a firm hold of you and it won't let you go. And fear is what makes you to say yes.'

'But I-'

'Do not speak another word, or you'll face a death beyond your imagining. But then again, death is a good option compared to life, for life is short, easily gained and easily lost. But death.. Death is eternal. With no second chances, no turning back, death is something we all should embrace. Death is a calling, death is a virtue, death is a sinful comfort of both the sane and the insane. Death weights much more than life. So it is and so it shall forever be. And you seem to know it too. Yes, I've looked inside your mind and I've seen death in it's purest form. You don't even think about life, for life is too simple and weak to you. But death, it has caught you in a web from which you can't no longer free yourself.. There's no denying that. Death is your true calling.'

'I.. Yes.. How can you know that?'

'I know everything about you, mortal one. I hold three magical cards in my hands. The first one of them represents your past, present and future. The second one of them represents your acts and deeds. And the third one of them represents your interests and life both as a person and as a human being.'

'So.. You know.. Who on earth are you? I am sure that I've seen you before in one of my dreams, but all of my memories seem so hazy, so distant. So who.. Who are yo-'

'I am none, I'm a man without a name! But in the realm of the dead and the damned, they call me the messenger of Death. And if I deem your existence worthy enough, you shall come with me and then, mortal one, you too will live the rest of your life without a name.'

'Death? Without a name? I do not underst..'

'You don't need to understand, but let it be known. Death is only a mere alias to she, whom no mirror can see, no light can find and no holy power can weaken. You know her, don't you? No, you've seen her in your dreams.. No.. Not just in one.. But.. In.. all.. of.. them.'

'Yes.. I've seen her.. She.. fascinates.. me.. I-'

'Be silent! Good.. Now.. I must ask you one more time. Do you know the meaning of life and death?

'Yes.. Life is short, easily gained and easily lost, but death is eternal. With no second chances, no turning back, death is something we all should embrace. Death is a calling, death is a virtue, death is a sinful comfort of both the sane and the insane. Death weights much more than life. So it is and so it shall forever be.'

'Your answer is.. correct. Now, come with me. She is already waiting for you.'

'And so the messenger covered his face with the hood once more, and then opened a shadowy, otherworldly portal that would lead us to the place, where only the dead are free to roam. To the home of all that is dark and evil. To the home of.. Death.'

'And once we were on the other side, the messenger muttered a few words in a language I couldn't grasp and hence, a hidden stairway began to form, revealing itself step by step. The stairs seemed to lead way below the ground. We then descended the stairs without hesitation and soon found ourselves standing behind a black door. A door unlike anything I had ever seen. It had strange inscription on it's surface and it seemed very.. living. To say the least. And once we had entered through it, the messenger showed me something I had only believed to be a myth. He urged me to take a look at the black door behind us and somehow, I could see into my former life right through it. I had once read about a door that's called 'The door that stands between life and death'; but I never imagined it to be real. My accomplishments, failures and memories, I could see them all.. Tens of thousands of images flashing before my eyes.. It was like an endless cinematic and it felt disturbing. But when my curiosity told me to reach for the door, the messenger ordered me to stay away from it. A part of me wanted to go back, but then I obeyed and so we continued our long walk towards the castle of Death.'

'From that moment on, we would encounter countless of graveyards, unholy tombs and most haunting and dark forests. But finally, we got there.. And once I saw her castle, only word that came into my mind was glorious. The building was simply glorious. The castle was so high that I couldn't even see some of the rooftops of it's many towers. They reached well above the sky, no.. Wrong.. What I first believed to be the sky, proved to be pure void itself. And why? Well, such is the underworld. A realm of shadow and pure void.'

'And standing near the castle and it's great gates, was a woman, whose beauty made us both kneel down in shame. I couldn't even look into her eyes. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, so black and lifeless, yet so beautiful. But then she approached me, holding a grim and long scythe firmly and gently in right hand. Giving me a pleasant smile, she took a hold of my cheek, raised my head and whispered to my left ear: 'Welcome to my realm, dear..' - And that said, she thrust her scythe's sharp blade right through my stomach, starting to drain my soul out.. I screamed in pain and agony, but then she touched my face with her left hand, saying: 'Hush, hush, it's alright.. You've nothing to fear.´.'

But then something in that hand's palm moved.. Something living.. I could only see sewings at first, but as those sewings broke, they revealed a monster's mouth. And sooner than I could even realize, she had opened my mouth and was already forcing her left hand down my throat and I felt as the monstrous mouth in her hand began to devour on my spirit. Then only moments later, she pulled the scythe off along with her hand that had just eaten every bit of my human spirit. And as her final act of cruelty, she dropped the scythe to ground, and as quickly as a sword pierces a human body, she ripped my heart off and took it as her own. Without a soul, a spirit and a heart, I now truly belonged to her. In a blink of an eye, I had been rendered off all the things that had made me human. And now, I only knew of obeyance and servitude.. From that point onward, I would be hers forever. Willing to obey her every command.. And.. Her.. Every.. Desire.'

There he now sits on filthy ground, man without a spirit, a heart and a soul

Turned into a servant of eternity, he's now bound to become one of Death's pet human ghouls.

And that's what happened in the dream. I chose death instead of life. I know that I could've just fled from the messenger and cling to my precious life, but no, I think I chose death on a purpose. Maybe it's my true calling after all. Maybe I'm destined to follow the path of death. Perhaps she knows.. She who no mirror can see.. No light can find.. And no holy.. power.. can.. weaken..

Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen

Well, Amras. I'm not that interested in writing an actual long-term book. I don't think that's even on my list at the moment. I enjoy writing these short tales though and poetry very much alike.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked of it. It's a bit shady work, but then again, am I not the nightshade of dark purity and deadly dread?

Inwithiel, a very warm welcome to Planet Tolkien. Oh, such detailing. I've been waiting for such an arrival for so long. You're likely to bring some new life in form of writing to this site, I can already see that. I just wanted to let you know that what you just wrote felt good in every possible way. I read it aloud in my mind, and I definitely liked of what I heard.

Please do introduce yourself in the new member's thread or something. I'm looking forward to hear about your deeds.

- Oerath Windsoul, A Fellow Writer.