!!! FOREWORD AND LEGAL DISCLAIMER - Please note that while some of the characters in this story are my own, some others are not, and they are trademarked property of their respective owner(s), This preface, and the story that will come assuming I get enough positive response, follows the Lord of the Rings, during the time of Angmars war with Arnor. The Lord of the Rings and all histories, and lores within are all also trademarked property of its respective owner(s). This is a story done for fun, not intended to be sold for monetary gain. A simple fan-fiction, if you will. I do not claim credit for any trademarked properties contained herein. I do, however, claim credit for my own characters and request to be asked and informed before the name(s) and / or likeness of any character(s) I create in this story be used for any purpose.
So this is what I've came up with for my short-story involving a Black Númenórean man named Ar-Khôranakallabi (High-Lord of the Fallen) or Ar-Âruanakallabi (High-King of the Fallen) thus far. (The name is undecided as of yet. Post which you think fits better, after reading this preface, if you like. For the purposes of this story, I'm using Ar-Âruanakallabi as the main characters name, to keep the confusion level down.)
Also note that this is not the entire story, which I imagine will be much longer than this. This is only a brief explanatory prologue, or preface, describing what the story will be about, the main character of said story, his past and what will happen in his immediate future. This story is open to literary and constructive criticism. If you see something wrong with it, or the histories and / or lore contained herein, or mistakes I may have made (grammatical or spelling) please, post below and tell me.
And keep in mind that though his name denotes kingship (Ar-), he isn't the King of the Númenóreans. Rather, he is the King of their small clan of Black Númenóreans. His father adopted the title, and on his fathers death Ar-Âruanakallabi took and used it to honor the memory of his people, his father and his clan.
And finally, I hope you all enjoy. If I get enough interest in this, I'll continue on - but be warned, I like to take my time with my writing. Inspiration comes slowly to me, so the full story may be some time away. If it even comes at all (like I said, I need enough positive response to move me to continuation). Leave a post with your ideas, thoughts, and / or comments if it pleases you! END OF FOREWORD. !!!
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Ar-Âruanakallabi was born just north of Umbar in the south of Middle-earth, west of Harad, in the early years of Third Age 1300. The exact date remains unknown. He was born to a clan of Black Númenóreans who had taken up residence in the area long ago, after Ar-Pharazôn had captured the Dark Lord Sauron in Second Age 3262 and much of his dark influence had spread throughout the peoples of Númenor. A small number of the Men and women of Númenor, desiring dominion over the lesser Men of Middle-earth, had left the isle of Númenor and made their way to Umbar in the east. There, and in the lands around Umbar, they began to lay their roots and built villages. (Ar-Âruanakallabi was born in the northern-most of these villages which was quite near the River Poros, west of the Harad road.) Eventually, Númenor fell, and the survivors of Númenor fled to the Grey Havens and Lindon. Some of the survivors, under Elendil the Tall, remained in that area and founded a kingdom of Men in the north and took him as the new King. But the sons of Elendil the Tall came south and founded their own kingdom there. From these were established the sister-kingdoms of Arnor, in the north, and Gondor in the south.
When Ar-Âruanakallabi was in his late twenties, a small force of Gondorian soldiers destroyed his village, aware that the clan of Black Númenóreans there were worshipers of Morgoth and Sauron, and that the clan had been plotting against Gondor. The numbers in the clan were few, but the seeds of dissension in the south spread like wildfire and a display of force and power was required to strike fear in the hearts of all who would speak ill of the Kingdom of Gondor. The men of the village fought valiantly during the attack, but most perished. A small group, including Ar-Âruanakallabi, whos in his youth was Nûluzimra, his father (whos name was lost to the ages), his sister, and several other members of the tribe fled further north, towards Lebennin.
There, they made their new home in a group of caves near Linhir, in Lebennin, not far from what would be Dol Amroth. The people of Linhir were frightened of these new Men from the south, and believing them to be sorcerers of great power they left them alone and avoided at all costs the mountains to the west. Any who went that way disappeared and were never seen again, but for days after their screams could be heard drifting down into the town, and fires could be seen burning bright inside of the caverns. The people of Linhir believed those who were kidnapped and captured while wandering near the mountains were being sacrificed, and so the people altogether abandoned the ways by the mountains. Life continued for the Black Númenórean tribe for many years. When Ar-Âruanakallabi was sixty five, still quite young by Númenórean reckoning, his father died. His father lived for two hundred and sixty years.
His father had been the Lord of their small tribe, and at his passing, Ar-Âruanakallabi, who was then still Nûluzimra, took up his fathers title and chose for himself a new name. Ar-Âruanakallabi was Adûnaic for 'High-King of the Fallen', which was what his tribe, or clan, of Black Númenóreans had came to be.
After taking up his fathers place as the leader of their clan, their numbers rose steadily as more of their brethren fled north from the oppression of Gondor in the areas surrounding the port of Umbar. The wars were becoming more fearsome and more uninvolved outlying clans of Black Númenóreans were being attacked. There were also Slavers from Harad who raided the smaller clans, and took away the young men and women to their own lands. It didn't take long before Ar-Âruanakallabi had a strong force of Black Númenóreans under his command. They all respected who his father had been, which was the King of the largest tribe of Black Numenoreans in the south, and thus respected his son and accepted him as their leader.
Over some time, it was decided that they would begin raiding and attacking the surrounding countryside to capture supplies for their growing numbers, as well as subjects for sacrifice - for they proudly continued the sacrificial practices performed in the waining years of Númenór, believing the Dark Lord would praise them for taking lives in his name and thus bless them with longer lifespans.
Brandishing sword and spear, the Men of Ar-Âruanakallabis new clan began raiding the small farms and trading-caravans and wains around Linhir. Luckily, the events further to the north and south, the unrest around Umbar and the civil wars of Arnor, overshadowed these small raids to the point where they were rarely heard of. For years this went on, until again the Gondorian soldiers attacked them. They couldn't evade detection forever, even hidden in the caves of Linhir which were deep and dark. This time, every Black Númenórean in the tribe was slain to the child, and only Ar-Âruanakallabi survived - but he was left for dead by his enemies and had suffered many grevious wounds. The Gondorians, gathering their dead (of which there were many), returned to the north to regroup and head south to Umbar. They left their enemies there to rot.
Ar-Âruanakallabi recovered very slowly, regaining his strength over time. How he survived the attack, he did not know - his wounds merited death by all account, and one even took the fever of infection. But he lived, somehow, by eating the small stores of food they had in the caves, and drinking the sweet coastal rainwater. With great labour over time, he burried his dead brethren, and the women and what few children they had in the clan, reverently, deep in the caves of Linhir. And as long as the village of Linhir existed, no person ever ventured near those caverns. In the years to come, the old wives tales would fester about those caverns, saying that the spirits of an evil people long dead would suck the blood from any living beings body if they took a step inside, and that wraiths would descend upon the town and curse them all to death.
Ar-Âruanakallabi, once he was healed, left the caves. The memories of his sister and his brethren there were bittersweet, and he felt the need to leave the place. Something seemed to be tugging at him - something, deep down, told him that it was time to leave. And so he traveled the lands hooded and cloaked, and took the name Uialdîn, or 'Silent Twilight', in his wandering. The name Âruanakallabi had been marked by his enemies and so he could no longer freely proclaim himself King of the Fallen until he was free of the lands of Gondor.
He lost count of the years he spent going from place to place in Gondor, until the rumors of a darkness in the north were on the tounges of every man, woman and child in the land. An evil force was growing there, feeding off of the internal strife of Arnor, darkness that seemed to be bred of the Dark Lord Sauron, or the ancient Lord of Evil Morgoth. Ar-Âruanakallabi, following his heart and his gut, began to trek north. For if the darkness was truly akin to Sauron and Morgoth, then perhaps, just perhaps, if he proved himself a warrior true to the darkness and of real skill...perhaps this lord would give him what his people had been seeking for for thousands of years.
Immortality.
Edited by Captain of Arnor, 25 March 2009 - 11:42 PM.
