Chapter 2: The Shadow of Steel and the Fracture of the World
A hundred years had passed... In the old world I left behind, it was a span of time that transformed horse-drawn carriages into spacecraft. But for Middle-earth, and for the immortal Elven race, this duration was but a blink of a star's eye.
Yet, under the leadership of 'Theron'—under my leadership—that single blink had changed the face of Cuiviénen forever.
The wind brushing against my face was no longer just natural air; it was laced with the faint scent of charcoal and hot metal. The scent of 'Evolution' that I had ignited. By the serene lakeshore, massive waterwheels now stood tall, churning with the force of the current to drive mechanical hammers in the forges.
Their rhythmic thud... thud... had become the new heartbeat of us, the 'Avari.'
I stood at the edge of the forest, the exact spot where I had bid farewell to Finwë a century ago. My hand touched the bow slung across my back.
It was no ordinary wooden bow of the past, but the modified 'Raumo'... a composite bow crafted from a hardwood core, reinforced with the horns of giant beasts and sinew treated with a special chemical solution I had devised. Its draw weight was immense, far beyond what an ordinary Elf could pull. But for me, it was an extension of my arm and my will.
"Lord Theron..." A soft voice called out.
I turned to look. My close aide, a young Elf named 'Voron,' approached. His expression was grim.
"What is it, Voron?" I asked.
"The third patrol unit... has not returned, my Lord," his voice trembled. "This is the second group in a month to vanish without a trace near the northern mountains."
I frowned. An uncomfortable silence settled between us.
I knew exactly what this was. In the original novels, missing Elves were often captured, tortured, and corrupted. But I didn't think 'it' would begin this soon. Or perhaps, my acceleration of Elven evolution here had piqued the interest of 'Melkor,' the Dark Lord in the North, prompting him to move faster.
"Order everyone to double the guard. Extinguish the forge fires after sunset. No one is to leave the defensive perimeter, absolutely no one," I commanded sharply.
Voron acknowledged and hurried away. I turned back to the lake. The starlight reflecting on the water was as beautiful as ever, but it felt terribly cold. Finwë and the others must have reached Valinor by now. They were probably basking in the light of the Two Trees, leaving us to face the 'reality' of this world.
But I had no regrets. Safety bought at the price of being a pet in a gilded cage was not what I desired.
Suddenly, my engineer's intuition, fused with Elven senses, flared. A rustling sound came from the bushes behind me... not the wind, not a wild animal. It was heavy, irregular footsteps.
A foul stench assaulted my nose... the smell of old blood and rotting flesh.
I sprang backward to create distance, my right hand snatching a steel-tipped arrow from the quiver and nocking it in a split second.
A dark shadow lunged from the gloom. It wasn't a beast. Its shape was Elven, but twisted—hunched back, gangly limbs, dark grey skin marred by scars and filth. Its eyes glowed red like embers of pure hatred.
Orc.
It growled low in its throat, speaking the Black Speech that sounded like grinding stones. "Elf... sweet smell... sweet meat..."
It wasn't alone. Dozens of shadows moved in the foliage around me.
These were Melkor's first batch. Elves captured and tortured until their spirits broke, then reassembled with dark sorcery. I felt nausea, not from fear, but from pity... once, they might have been my kin.
"This one..." The leader Orc stepped forward, wielding a rusted sword that looked more like scrap metal than a weapon. "It didn't run West... it thinks to fight."
I smirked slightly, my eyes shifting from those of a scholar to those of a predator. "I don't think to fight... I think to 'purge'."
Thwack!
The sound of the Raumo bowstring was thunderous. Not the soft twang of a wooden bow, but the slam of massive kinetic energy. The armor-piercing arrow sheared through the air, too fast for the naked eye.
Thud!
The arrow punched through the leader Orc's chest. The impact was so violent it hurled the creature backward, pinning its rotting corpse against a large tree. Black blood sprayed.
The remaining Orcs froze, shock evident in their bulging eyes. They had never seen a weapon of such power.
"Kill it! Rip its flesh!" They shrieked and charged all at once.
I took a deep breath, entering the 'Flow' state I used when managing critical site operations. My brain processed distance, wind speed, and trajectory.
I loosed arrows continuously. Not with the frantic speed of Legolas in the movies, but with mathematical precision.
The second arrow pierced the skull of the one on the right...
The third severed the hamstring of the one leaping mid-air...
The fourth went through the throat of the one about to blow a signal horn...
But there were too many. One Orc managed to close the distance. Its rusted sword swung down. I raised the Raumo bow to block. The steel-core reinforced limbs caught the blade effortlessly.
"Technology... always beats... savagery," I whispered.
I kicked it in the chest, sending it stumbling back, then drove the bladed tip of my bow into its clavicle, ending its life instantly.
When the sounds of battle faded, I stood panting amidst the corpses of a dozen Orcs. The stench of blood was overpowering. I looked at the steel-tipped arrows I had painstakingly forged... several wasted, but it was worth it.
However... a chill that ran down my spine wasn't from the cold, but from realization.
This was just a patrol.
If they could reach here, our natural defenses were breached. And if there were ten... there were hundreds, thousands waiting in the shadows.
I retrieved the salvageable arrows and rushed back to the Avari settlement.
When I reached the village square, panic was setting in. Many Elves had seen the torchlight in the woods and heard the screams. I stepped up onto the stone podium I used for infrastructure lectures.
"Brothers and sisters of the Avari!" I shouted, my voice booming over the din. "The shadow you fear... it is here!"
I threw the severed head of the Orc leader into the center of the circle. Screams of shock erupted.
"This is the fate of the weak! Melkor sends them to hunt us. He thinks we are fresh meat waiting for the slaughter because we chose not to hide under the Valar's skirts!"
Voron looked at me with terror-filled eyes. "Lord Theron... we cannot fight them. We are too few. Or... should we follow Finwë? Maybe we can still catch up..."
Voron's words sparked agreement. "Yes! Go West! Flee to Oromë!"
I looked at them. Fear was eating away their reason.
I closed my eyes, visualizing the map of Middle-earth in my mind. Geography, strategic positions, resources.
Staying by this open lake was suicide.
But fleeing West now... was no different. We would be hunted down in the open. And I would not abandon my dream of an empire to become a refugee.
"No!" I declared fiercely. "We will not run West... We will not beg for mercy from gods who have already left us!"
"If we stay, we die! If we journey, we die!" An elder Elf shouted. "What would you have us do, King of Ashes!"
I smiled... the confident smile of an engineer who sees a solution where others see only problems.
"We will not run... but we will 'relocate'."
I pointed towards the northeast, towards the Orocarni mountains, where peaks pierced the sky.
"Here at Cuiviénen, the terrain is too open. We are sitting ducks... But there, in those valleys, there is iron ore, coal, and a single choke point that I can turn into a 'killing field'."
"Tonight... we abandon Cuiviénen," I announced, my gaze sweeping over everyone. "Pack the tools! Move the mobile forges! Take all seeds and texts! We march for the mountains..."
"Oromë's path is a road to a paradise that makes us weak."
I raised the Raumo bow to the sky. "But my path... is the road to a 'Fortress' that will make you immortal through steel and stone!"
"Who is with me!"
Silence held for a heartbeat, before Voron drew the short sword I had taught him to forge and raised it high. "I am with you!"
"And I!" another smith shouted.
"For the new kingdom!"
A roar of approval erupted, drowning out the initial fear.
I looked at them... They were no longer the graceful Elves singing to the moon.
They were becoming 'Builders' and 'Warriors.'
That night, the Avari caravan moved out from Cuiviénen. Not to chase the western light, but to head into the darkness of the mountains.
I walked at the rear, looking back at my birthplace one last time. The fires burning the Orc corpses blazed, reflecting on the water.
"Farewell, Cuiviénen..." I whispered. "When I return here again... I will not come as prey, but as a Conqueror."
The storm of war had begun, and I... Theron, would build the strongest lightning rod in Middle-earth to meet it.