Carnage

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As promised double release:)

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"Welcome back, Jacob and Aragorn. And congratulations! You may now call yourselves Rangers of the North!" greeted Lindëwen to the two. Relief was evident on their faces to be back, especially after the unbearable silence between them.

"Kneel and receive your brooches."

Aragorn and Narzug knelt on one knee and bowed their heads slightly. Anyone who expected a grand ceremony was utterly mistaken. Just as the life of the Dunedain, so too were their ceremonies simple.

First, Lindëwen approached Aragorn.

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, do you accept the title of Ranger of the North?"

"Yes, Lady!"

"Then I bestow upon you your ranger name; from now on, you may call yourself Strider," said Lindëwen, pinning a small brooch in the shape of a white tree onto Aragorn's cloak.

Then Lindëwen, smiling, turned to Narzug.

"Jacob Tolkienson, descendant of the horse lords of Rohan, do you accept the title of Ranger of the North?"

"Yes, Lady."

"Then I bestow upon you your ranger name; from now on, you may call yourself Timber," said Lindëwen, pinning a brooch onto Narzug's cloak as well. Well, actually, the brooch fell into the mud before him because his cloak was just an illusion, but since everyone present was also caught in an illusion about his appearance, no one noticed the brooch on the ground.

"Timber... hmm, must refer to Ira..." thought Narzug until Lindëwen began to sing.

"Bânûlith dur ûdu rad (Darkness reveals its true form)! Gandalf, awaken the power of your runes, by the flame of Arnor! Awaken your brooches! Bânûlith dur ûdu rad (Darkness reveals its true form)!"

"Oh shit," Narzug screamed inwardly because at that moment all his illusions were broken and sucked into the brooches on the ground and on Aragorn's cloak.

"Gandalf was right! Carry out the plan but be careful, that is Narzug the mist demon!" ordered Lindëwen. Shortly thereafter, Narzug was surrounded by Dunedain with long lances. Aragorn had overcome his astonishment and now drew his sword as well: "I knew it! So you are a monster after all! You wretched scum of evil!"

"Monster, monster, monster! What makes me a monster?! The body of an orc!? The spirit in my heart or the song in my heart?!" screamed Narzug angrily, the song in his heart flared up and was even visible to the naked eye. Like a shock wave, it shot out of him, throwing the surrounding Dunedain away.

"Hadn't I lived in peace and harmony with you?! Didn't we have mutual trust?! No, I am a monster! Am I wretched scum?! No! But I can do incredibly evil things!" roared Narzug and transformed into his hybrid form. Ira was once again allowed to drink the blood of his enemies.

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At the same time, Gandalf's gaze shot to the northwest. The brooches he had sent with his last letter to Lindëwen had just been triggered and were alerting him.

He felt an incredibly powerful darkness and evil emanating from the direction of the northern Dunedain. Actually, he was on his way to Gondor but immediately turned and rode north.

The darkness in the north did not go unnoticed in Rivendell either; Lord Elrond personally rode out, clad in his armor, with a golden ring on his finger.

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In the deep darkness of the ruins, under the pale sunlight of the north, stood Narzug. His muscular body was tense, the mighty axe Ira in his hands glittered menacingly in the sparse light. The wind carried the soft rustle of leaves and the eerie song of darkness. The Dunedain of Fornost, a hundred men strong, advanced towards him. These warriors, known for their bravery and combat skills, knew they were facing a superhuman foe. Narzug, in his hybrid form, three times as strong and fast as a human and armored with dragon scales, prepared to enter the bloody dance of war.

With a bone-chilling scream, Narzug hurled himself at his enemies. His axe sliced through the air with the force of a thunderclap. The first Dunedain to get too close was literally split in two. Blood sprayed in all directions as Narzug continued to plow through the ranks of warriors. Every swing of his axe was deadly, every blow devastating. The screams of the dying filled the night, a ghastly concert of despair and pain.

The song of his heart filled every movement, every strike, every step Narzug took, moving to the rhythm of the song.

The Dunedain tried to form up, raise their shields and encircle Narzug. But his superhuman speed and strength thwarted every attempt. He was like a shadow flitting through the ranks, an unstoppable force showing no mercy. With a single swing of his axe, he shattered several shields and broke the bones of the men behind them. Another swing severed heads from bodies, sent limbs flying, and brought death and chaos to his enemies.

The ground beneath his feet was soaked with blood, the air filled with the metallic smell of death. Narzug's eyes glowed with unbridled rage and bloodlust. He reveled in the slaughter, the power he wielded over life and death. None of the Dunedain could offer him any resistance. Their swords glanced off his skin, their arrows were deflected by his sheer speed. It was as if a demon in human form was raging among them.

After a while, the resistance weakened. The Dunedain still alive were paralyzed with fear and horror. They saw their fallen comrades around them, torn and mutilated, and knew they had no chance. But Narzug showed no fatigue, no spark of mercy. He drove them on, his axe swinging tirelessly until the ground was covered with the corpses of his enemies.

Blood dripped from his axe and body, his breathing was heavy but steady. Before him lay the remnants of a once-proud ranger order. Only two Dunedain of Fornost had survived the massacre. They stood trembling before Narzug, their swords limp in their hands, their eyes wide with fear. Narzug smiled coldly and stepped towards them, his axe raised for the final, deadly blow.

"Jacob... no Narzug please... spare me," screamed Lindëwen in panic, throwing herself to the ground before him. But he only snorted and stomped on her head with full force, which burst like a ripe tomato.

"So Aragorn, now you have your monster... do you hate me now, do you despise me?!" Narzug shouted at the last survivor. Aragorn lay before him in a pool of blood. Aragorn had not come out of the fight unscathed either; he had lost an entire arm to Ira. "Go on monster, kill me!" Aragorn shouted at Narzug and spat at his feet.

"I think I have something better in mind..." said Narzug and then sat on Aragorn and beat him until not a single bone was left unbroken. Even after that, he kept hitting him until only a tiny bit of life was left in him.

"I know you can still hear me Aragorn... I'll let you bleed out here while I make a nice barbecue out of Lindëwen! Think for the last moments of your miserable life about how I enjoy her fine flesh." said Narzug and licked Aragorn's blood off his knuckles. He was about to turn around when he stopped again: "Oh, almost forgot!" and cut off Aragorn's other arm too "just to be sure..." Then he turned around, tore off one of Lindëwen's legs as he passed, and hummed the song of greed from his heart loudly as he continued northward.

Twenty minutes later, Gandalf arrived in Fornost. Everywhere he looked, he could only see blood and destruction. He walked through the corpses of the Dunedain but could not find a single sign of life. Eventually, he found the remains of Lindëwen, oddly missing a leg.

"I'm so infinitely sorry, Lindëwen... if only I had known... I never thought the Mist Demon would actually be here..."

Then he suddenly heard faint breathing and ran towards a heap of blood and flesh. "By the Valar, Aragorn!"

Gandalf immediately recognized the descendant of Elendil and cast a healing circle around the completely torn-up man.

"What happened here?!"

Then he heard horses' hooves behind him and immediately pointed his staff and Glamdring at the newcomer, only to lower both as soon as he recognized who it was.

In astonishment, he said: "My Lord Elrond! What brings you here?"

"Gandalf, something old has awakened. An evil that hasn't walked under the sun since the First Age has been revived. I could feel it; an ancient song was emanated here! Is that Estel? Step aside, old friend, let me use my ring!"

Gandalf hastily stepped aside, and Elrond knelt beside the wounded Aragorn. He stretched out his hand, and a gentle light, seemingly coming with the wind, shone from the ring on his hand.

Slowly, some blood returned to Aragorn, and his face slowly became recognizable again.

"It's always a wonder to see Vilya, the Ring of Air, at work!" Gandalf said in amazement.

"But it won't be enough... he will be able to talk and walk again, but his arms will be lost forever... we could reattach the left one, but the song from Aragorn's heart will never reach his hand."

"Then let's change this with Narya..."

"Wait, Gandalf! Is it worth it? The Dark Lord in Mordor will likely soon be able to feel that two of the Elven rings were used here!"

"Elrond, this is about Estel, our hope for the future. The last living man with a strong line to Elendil and Isildur! It is definitely worth it! And even if he can only raise his hand to greet afterwards, I will still do my best!"

"Thank you, Gandalf... we should convene the White Council later!" Elrond finally said, secretly wiping a few tears from his eyes. After all, Aragorn was something like an adopted son to him.

And so, March 17, 2953 T.A. went down in the history books of the learned as a dark day for the free peoples. For on this day, Narzug the Mist Demon killed all the Dúnedain from Fornost, thus achieving a significant victory for the dark lord, which would have consequences.

Yet at this time, Narzug the Mist Demon was unknowingly sitting by a campfire in the far north, grilling a leg of the legendary last leader of the Dúnedain from Fornost.

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Hello Maggots!

The age of Men is over. The time of the Orcs has come.

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