Shadow of Mordor Fan Art Shadow of Mordor the Bright Lord

Tin't share expert art on here anymore, so hither is a link:

https://www.deviantart.com/vvardenfellvixen/art/Celebrimbor-Silver-Fist-867330428

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💍 RING MAKER 💍

2019>2017

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SHADOW OF State of war PLAY PART 48 ACT 3 SHADOW AND FLAME SAURON'S Ground forces THE BRIG...

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The Bright Lord - Chp I - In the Beginning

Rating: Mature Fandom: Shadow of Mordor, Lord of the Rings, Silmarillion Pairing: None Summery: 'Who are you?' Celebrimbor demanded as the fair figure stepped into the light. 'I am called Annatar, and I am the Lord of Gifts.' Warnings: Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dark themes A/N: Inspiration is heavily taken from 'The Vivid Lord' campaign in Shadow of Mordor. Evidently, I've inverse some things up, and there will be more things changed every bit this progresses I am certain, but this is going to exist autonomously of my 'Shadow of the Ring' series. Also feeling dark and angsty probably had something to do with this. I did edit this, but I am certain some mistakes slipped by. Beta: None Word Count: 2946 Cross Posted to Ao3

Celebrimbor remembered the day more clearly than any other in his long life, for it was to exist a day of joy: Little Anarien joined as an apprentice of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. After she worked for many years and learned all she could from the picayune time she was allotted to spend with him in the forges, she finally mastered the necessary skills to join. The delight on her face up was contagious and even Haeroniel, who had long since grown cold and distant from Celebrimbor many years prior beamed at her daughter's accomplishment. With cracking pride, he gave her a necklace wrought of silver with a pale green stone fashioned in the middle. A gift which he made personally for her to gloat this day. Simply when he clasped the delicate chain, they heard the heavy wooden door of Mirdaithrond opening.

'Who are you?' Celebrimbor demanded as the fair figure stepped into the lite.

'I am called Annatar, and I am the Lord of Gifts,' he said and stepped forward to Celebrimbor, 'I offer my knowledge and this,' he kneeled and extended his hands to Celebrimbor where a hammer, wrought of Mithril, rested confronting his palms.

'Information technology is so fine a souvenir,' he said barely in a higher place a whisper, 'Why would you offer such a matter to me?'

'I believe you and your peoples' skills will be worthy of the knowledge I can give them,' Annatar said merely.

Anarien, Haeroniel and the rest of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain looked to him with apprehension of his answer.

'What is it you would seek in return? Seldom is something given for nothing.'

'Your commitment to your arts and crafts is enough,' Annatar replied, 'Which I suspect will crusade trouble for none here, every bit all appear to be of Noldor decent and such devotion to craft is legendary of your people.'

Celebrimbor should of turned the Maia away as others did, but he, and the other smiths of the social club grew greedy for knowledge that simply Annatar seemed to possess, and his careful words caused their uncertainty to slip. Galadriel gave the same warning as Celebrimbor regarding Annatar asking for zero in return, but the other smiths and himself refused her warnings and of Annatar being turned away elsewhere from a lack of trust. Such a divide amongst the them created enough tension for the Gwaith-i-Mírdain to persuade the quango to remove Galadriel every bit well every bit her hubby Celeborn from their seats. Celebrimbor was surprised by such a turn of events, and further shocked when the council disbanded entirely, and he was fabricated Lord of Eregion by the Gwaith-i-Mírdain who viewed him equally a leader already due to his position of Chief of the Gild. Galadriel soon left later on Celebrimbor had reluctantly been placed into ability, despite him urging her to stay, though Celeborn stayed and such a fact Celebrimbor thought quite odd indeed.

With Galadriel gone and Celeborn holding no seat of power, the Smiths continued their piece of work and lessons with Annatar with greater speed than before. Often, he and others of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain inquired almost where Annatar received this knowledge, and when he at last told them he one time served nether Aulë, The Smith of the Valar. From there, they held Annatar in greater esteem, never one time asking him why he left Aulë's side. Anarien'south admiration of him grew in particular, every bit she was non built-in in Valinor and Aulë, the Valar and Maiar were more akin to a fable in her heed. She began to spend an increasing amount of time with Annatar, though Celebrimbor became jealous of the fourth dimension she spent with Annatar, he was not about to hinder her opportunity to learn, but he came to regret the time he was non spending with her.

Their crafts became known throughout Middle-Earth and beyond, for Annatar showed them how to craft not simply fine weapons and armour, but with ability imbued within them. Ost-in-Edhil become a city of exports equally well as smiths. Piece of work with Mithril became more common than e'er despite how hard it was to piece of work with and caused trade with Khazad-Dûm to prosper more ever before. The increased need for the mining of Mithril from the Elves consequentially made the Dwarves demands for tools higher, causing for the economy to exist at an all-time high and the citizens of both nations could not exist more than pleased.

The lessons that Annatar taught on making Rings of Power was held highest of all nonetheless, for rings are small and not cumbersome upon the wearer. Though these rings proved difficult to brand, and only the smiths with the greatest skill could successfully make them. Many had been made for the Elves of who lived in Eregion and some for the neighbouring Dwarves, just with fourth dimension greater Rings were forged.

They made xvi Rings for those who rules throughout Middle-Globe. Nine were made for kings of men and others accounted powerful leaders of their people, and seven were gifted to the Dwarves.

'Only you could accomplish such fine art, Celebrimbor,' Annatar praised him, and despite Celebrimbor denying his work in these xvi Rings, the Maia assured him that such work would never of come to exist without Celebrimbor's leadership of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain. All the same, Celebrimbor made every endeavour to place Annatar's praise elsewhere, but particularly on little Anarien, who played a greater role in the forging of the Rings given to the Kings of Men. Celebrimbor was impressed by how much her skill grew in such a short fourth dimension.

'Her get-go teacher is skilled,' Annatar connected to praise him, and at that fourth dimension it brought Celebrimbor pride that such words had been uttered to him from one who was so capable.

'She will soon surpass me,' Celebrimbor beamed at the idea.

'Perhaps with time, she will surpass Fëanor. She'south certainly has a hot temperament like him,' Annatar teased and while Celebrimbor laughed with him, his eye swelled at the fact Annatar thought she was capable of doing such.

Shortly afterward such Rings of Power were made, Annatar left, much confronting the wishes of those who enjoyed his tutelage.

'I volition be dorsum in time, but there are matters which I must attend to,' he said, but would not answer whatsoever questions almost where he was going and when he would be back.

During his absenteeism, Celebrimbor forged his own three. He intended for the Elf-Lords throughout Middle-Earth and after may trial and error in how he wanted the designs, he found the perfect aesthetic and crafted them with care.

'They are wonderful,' Anarien said when he shown her, and only her, explaining that he wanted to receive Annatar'due south back up before he gave them abroad, 'I am sure Annatar volition corroborate when he comes back,' she said with such surety.

Only that day never came. At to the lowest degree a hundred years went past without and then much of a discussion from the Maia. Celebrimbor considered that constant communication with the Elves was unnecessary due non only their immortal presence, merely the Maia's also. Such a thing should not have bothered him, simply in that location was queer feeling in the pit of his stomach that grew with fourth dimension.

'Y'all are worrying over naught,' Anarien said to him on more one occasion whenever this conversation would start, and she would hold his hand with such confidence that he began to covet her conventionalities.

All at in one case, a heavy sense of dread that done over him every bit he worked in the forge. The sinking in his gut would not leave no affair how much he tried burring himself in his work. Anarien grew worried for him and information technology was clear she did not trust him when he told her he was fine.

'Naneth says you are acting similar yous did back in Nargothrond,' Anarien started with no knowledge of how such a statement hurt Celebrimbor, 'What does she mean by that?'

'She ways to say I know more than I tell,' he said bitterly and with more than anger than he meant, realising likewise late as Anarien stepped away from him.

'Forgive me,' she muttered and dashed out of Mirdaithrond, non allowing Celebrimbor to apologise for snapping at her.

Angered by both the annotate from Haeroniel and his disability to hold his atmosphere when Anarien knew nothing of his past with her mother, Celebrimbor threw the rough bract he had been previously working on against the wall with plenty forcefulness that the soft and brittle blade broke. Quietly, he stared at the pieces of the broken weapon and recalling the days in Nargothrond that Anarien mentioned; where he once been engaged to Haeroniel and how if he spoken up about what his begetter and uncle were planning, peradventure they would take been married. Perhaps she would accept never grown and so cold and distant from him. Perhaps Anardîr would have lived. Perhaps Anarien really would have been his and at that place would have been no struggle to come across her.

'She would not be the Anarien I know at present, and I cannot modify the past,' he murmured to himself, a abiding stage he told himself when he relived such foul memories.

Celebrimbor picked the pieces of the blade up carefully and discarded them and began with a new piece of steel to forge a new sword from; wanting to lose himself in his work for a flake before apologising to Anarien, allowing both her and him to calm themselves.

The vision came to him both swiftly and suddenly, and the image of Orodruin flooded into his mind. There, he gazed upon the immense and terrible figure of Sauron property a mithril hammer, exact to the one he had been given

'We are betrayed,' Galadriel's voice rang in his mind equally the image dispersed, 'Its power blazes like a buoy and will bring ruin to all Middle-Earth.' Both the heated steal and the Mithril hammer he had been pounding it hitting the floor with a loud and resounding clang.

Immediately, Celebrimbor heeded those words and commanded every Elf within Eregion to remove whatever and all rings from their person. Warning that evil touched these Rings, and no longer could they be trusted.

'How much did you know about Annatar?' Haeroniel questioned him and his honesty notwithstanding once more.

'I knew equally much every bit you,' he retorted, 'But if you are looking for a reason to take Anarien West equally you take her whole life, now is your risk! Had I believed Annatar was dangerous,' he started, straining to keep his voice fifty-fifty, 'I would never let him in the city, nor anywhere near Anarien. Think what you will about me, detest me how you have, but you know I would never put Anarien in danger and on more than ane occasion I risked my life for her when you were too bothered by work to detect she had gone missing!' he snapped at her.

Haeroniel seemed taken ashamed. The had argued frequently throughout their long lives, e'er belongings her own on those rare occasions when his atmosphere had flared. It was foreign to come across her standing there silently and articulate that his words cut her deeply.

'Convince her to become West,' was the concluding affair he said before Haeroniel left him.

'Why are you trying to convince me to go out?' Anarien shouted, when Celebrimbor brought up the matter once more, 'This is my habitation, Middle-Earth is my dwelling, and I volition defend information technology if I must!'

'So defend it by keeping The Iii a secret!' Celebrimbor cried back although raising his phonation at her pained him, 'Sauron must know I forged The 3, and you are the only one I told! Should I fail here I would not have him take yous to learn their location!'

They stood glaring at ane some other in silence before Celebrimbor spoke first, his voice soft, 'I would continue y'all here if you would be safe. Nowhere in Middle-World with be safe, and the knowledge you possess will exist your finish. This fate, I cannot risk. Please,' he begged, 'Become with your mother.'

Anarien was conflicted, yet wanting to fight for her home, though she had never fought anything resembling a battle in her life, but she appeared to empathize the desperate state of affairs which Celebrimbor was trying to remove her from.

'I will consider information technology,' she said a last, and she meant information technology. While information technology was not the respond Celebrimbor had wanted, it was far more than preferable to her continuous arguing over the matter.

Both Celebrimbor and Haeroniel continued to barrage Anarien to convince to go out, and while doing this, Celebrimbor sent The Iii which he had crafted to Gil-Galad, High King of the Elves in Lindon, and Galadriel in Lothlórien to keep them safe and to request assistance, knowing that Sauron would surely launch an attack against Eregion in the coming years. Saying cipher to Anarien.

'The less she knows, the better,' he said to himself, 'She will exist of less value to Sauron and less of a hazard for all those who dwell in Middle-Globe.'

When he and Haeroniel had just convinced Anarien to get out with her mother and caput West was a twenty-four hour period which brought him relief coupled with sorrow. She agreed to go out but to keep the Rings safe but had vowed she would get out Valinor fifty-fifty if that meant edifice her own boat and sailing forth. Even in these dark times, she was that petulant child with a fiery spirit that he adored.

'The ship is prepared, you both will leave tomorrow in the early morning time,' he said and felt relieved for the starting time fourth dimension in a long while.

'Thanks, Celebrimbor,' Haeroniel said, taking his hand in her own for the starting time time in thousands of years. He would of savoured the moment if information technology had been meant to last, only Sauron launched his attack sooner than Celebrimbor had anticipated.

The wooden doors of Mirdaithrond slammed open up and Orcs poured in. Haeroniel pulled Anarien against herself, screaming out, 'Nosotros are too belatedly!'

Quickly, he took his bow, Azkâr from his dorsum and knocking 2 arrows, firing them off and hit both Orcs he had been aiming, one lodging itself in betwixt the eyes of the offset, and the other flew direct through the second's jaw. Celebrimbor was able to allow loose merely a couple more than arrows before having to describe his sword to face the Orcs storming through the halls.

With haste, he dispatched at least ten of the vile creatures, moving with such fury he never idea he possessed as the concluding he had slaughters was pinned to the ground past his sword which emitted a deafening band when it hit the stone. Celebrimbor had but merely removed the weapon from the Orc'south carcass when a bright calorie-free blinded him, and a mighty force pushed him back. The metallic of his boots scrapped confronting the stone floor.

He blinked his eyes repeatedly trying to rid them of the colourful spots which danced over his vision; though he could still meet the immense and terrible figure as a shadow coming towards him.

'Sauron,' his center crept into his pharynx and his worry grew every bit he peered over to the two women who stood at the stop of the room. His fright for them out weight his fright of the Dark Lord and his mortiferous mace. With all his might he willed his legs to motility, dashing forward and then leaping upwardly in the hopes that he might strike the imposing Evil in front of him. He had no hope of smiting Sauron, merely if he could just acceleration of him long enough or be a lark to go Anarien and Haeroniel away then he considered his foolish act a success.

Such a grand thought proved useless as a deep pain washed over him, and his world faded to black, though he did not know for how long. He awoke with ringing in his ears, the grumbling of Orcs, and the faint sobbing of Anarien. Looking up from the bloody stone floor with blurry eyes, Celebrimbor saw Haeroniel, property Anarien shut to herself whilst being shoved past an Orc.

There were many now, Celebrimbor guessed there to be about 30 through his blurred vision, and they surrounded Haeroniel. Fear was axiomatic in her eyes, but she held Anarien away from them as she attempted to dashed towards him with teary eyes.

'Celebrimbor!' he could hear her modest vocalism cry for him, though it sounded only to a higher place a whisper, he knew she had shouted with all the strength she could muster while she and her mother were pushed abroad.

With great effort, he tried to stand and reclaim his weapon, but his head swam, and his legs wobbled. Celebrimbor reached a paw out to her, straining himself as he tried to crawl. He watched her practise the aforementioned, simply Haeroniel's grip was firm fifty-fifty equally they were ushered away. Frantically, he crawled to follow them when he was jerked from the ground and there was an Orc holding each arm cruelly, bruising his skin, whist another made his scalp burn every bit his pilus was pulled, forcing him to wait upward and meet Sauron's dark form.

Sauron'southward armoured figure approached him slowly with heavy steps, and Celebrimbor glared defiantly towards him, but his gaze shifted when a low-cal emanating from Sauron'due south right manus caught his eye. At that place he saw the One Ring Sauron had forged in the depths of Orodruin and a new fearfulness crept into Celebrimbor's heart as he wondered what sort of night powers were contained within.

'Take them to Mordor,' Sauron commanded to his Orcs. Celebrimbor struggled to keep fighting, but when a heavy club hitting the back of his head, he lost consciousness.

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The Blade of Galadriel (Prologue)

The first sensation Eltariel became aware of was the pain. A burning pain, shooting upward from her hand, just below her fingers.

Fingers...?

Her eyes shot open, and she found herself lying on the cool, dark rock that comprised the black tower of Barad-Dûr. Her optics fell upon her manus, and for a moment, she could only stare in shock and disbelief at the bleeding stumps where two of her fingers had once been, before ripping off a fold of her cape and wrapping it around her mutilated manus.

She struggled to assemble her memories. It had all happened so fast, and the hurting made if hard to focus. And so, the memories came flooding back...

Eltariel looked down at the figure of Sauron kneeling before her, the spectral manus of Celebrimbor pressed against his head. His form was lean and willowy, with radiant white hair and polish and fair complexion. But his expression was 1 of seething rage and his eyes were glowing like the heart of a burn down. So, his expression began to soften, and the burn down in his eyes seemed to subside. She could experience the rush of Celebrimbor channeling his power through her, to finally dominate the Dark Lord. With a final push from the wraith, the light in Saurons optics shifted from an angry carmine to a glittering stake blueish, and as she released her grip, she could experience a jolt of triumph pass through her listen, but whether information technology was her own or Celebrimbors, she couldn't say.

But no sooner had Eltariel released her grip, when she realized something was terribly incorrect.

Before either the elf or the wraith could react, the kneeling figure grabbed the arm before him. Staring at the black ring adorning her fingers, Saurons optics one time again began to glow with a furious fire. In a unmarried motion, the Dark Lord sliced the band, along with two of Eltariels fingers, from her mitt with an until at present unseen dagger. The set on threw her backwards, and she knelt on the cold stone, grasping her bleeding paw. But to her horror and surprise, the spectre of Celebrimbor had not moved, his arm caught in Saurons grip.

Every bit Sauron arose, a flame formed where his manus met Celebrimbors arm. Despite the burn seeming to cause the wraith incredible pain, just the faintest cry escaped his withered lips. Then, he lunged forward and grabbed Sauron, as if trying to squeeze the life out of the Dark Lord. The fire grew and enveloped the two shapes and for a brief moment, the fire seemed to shift between blue and orangish, equally the two shapes merged into one. Squinting through the heat and the calorie-free, Eltariel could come across the inferno lift from the ground. There was a flash of vivid light and then...

Eltariel turned towards the place where Sauron and Celebrimbor had last stood, but there was no trace of either. Only there was something else. The black stone seemed to glow before her. At showtime, she thought it was the remains of the blast that had knocked her out, simply and so her eyes glanced upwardly. And for the first time in many, many years, Eltariel turned pale.

Above her, suspended between the two spires adorning Barad-Dûr, a sun was shining. No, not a sunday. An EYE. An enormous eye of burn down, with a thin pupil equally blackness as pitch, staredout towards the desolated and shadowy realm of Mordor. Suddenly, a flash of blue shot across is, and the heart seemed to convulse in pain. The ensuing blast shook Eltariel to her cadre, and she could feel herself pushed backwards slightly.

"Sauron and Celebrimbor..." She mumbled to herself. "Both trapped, locked in disharmonize...". The eye over again flashed in blue, and Eltariel had to steady herself from the strength.

But in the flare-up, at that place was another audio. This sound did non come up from the heart, only instead backside Eltariel. It was a sound of metallic gliding against stone, equally if a money was pushed beyond a rock table.

Eltariel, instantly aware of what acquired the audio, turned to find its source. The black ring, made past Talion and Celebrimbor, was resting in front of her, its blueish runes shining across the polished stone flooring.

And so, another blue flash lit up the tower, and the strength acquired Eltariel to autumn forward. Looking up, she could see the black ring had moved from its original resting place, pushed closer to the border of the tower past the force of Celebrimbors and Saurons struggle.

Seeing this, Eltariel allow out a gasp.

"The band!"

Immediatly, as if she'd uttered some dark spell, a dreadful silence seemed to fall on the tower, and an orange glow descended on her. Glancing over her shoulder, Eltariel saw the eye, lidless, wreathed in flames, staring directly downwardly on the plateu beneath information technology, at her.

"No..." she thought. "Non at me..." and looked back at the ring. And at in one case, the spell was cleaved, before Eltariel could react, another wink caused the heart to twitch and shook the top of the tower, Celebrimbor and Sauron desperately trying to destroy each other and claim the new ring for their ain.

The smash acquired the ring to skid beyond the stone floor. Eltariel stared at the ring as information technology hit a small ridge in the stone floor, stopping only a fingers breadth from the towers edge.

It was every bit if someone had frozen time, equally both the eye and Eltariel stared at the tiny metal object, resting before the sheer drop of Barad-Dûr, below which ran rivers of molten rock from Mount Doom.

For a 2d, Eltariel was gripped by the urge to run over and accept the band for herself, but then she looked beyond the band, at the bridge reaching out from Saurons fortress. Somewhere on that bridge lay the trunk of Talion, the man who had lost his family and his life to Saurons plots and Celebrimbors ambitions.

She herself had left him to die, in favor of joining Celebrimbor in his bid to conquer Mordor. And what of Celebrimbor now? His plans were in ruins and he himself imprisoned, all because of his animalism for power.

So, grabbed by a sudden impulse, she reached with her unharmed hand for the dagger on her back and threw it forth the stone floor towards the ring.

If the eye could, information technology would have screamed.

Instead, information technology could only watch, shuddering and twitching, as the dagger slid across the rock and over the edge, taking the ring with it.

She saw the black band glint briefly in the light from the middle, and so it disappeared over the edge.

At once, it was equally though a thunderstorm had broken out effectually her, as the heart seemed ready to explode in impotent rage. Eltariel leaped to her feet and ran towards the gate leading down into the fortress.

Equally she descended the many stairs of the belfry, she was slowly filled with a deep sadness. Wounded as she was, she could no longer oppose the ringwraiths and had no choice but to return in disgrace to Lothlorien to beg the Lady Galadriel for forgiveness. She had succumbed to the temptation of the ring and so failed her mistress and her mission.

Upon finally leaving the fortress and running across the bridge, she felt some other twinge of guilt at seeing Talions body was now missing. Stolen by a passing orc scavenger, no dubiety.

She had hoped to be able to bring his corpse with her, and bury him in his homeland, but she could not even give him this atonement of her expose.

Kneeling at the pool of blood where the ranger had expired, she placed her unharmed hand on the ground.

"Namárië, astalder. An ngell nîn, goheno nin."

Farewell, brave i. Delight, forgive me.

With that, she arose and ready off over again for the wood of her homeland.

And many miles away, in the dark main chamber of Minas Morgul, the shadowy figure of Talion observed her departure through the Palantír, his eyes glowing red from the power of Isildurs band, resting on his left manus.

This is story, based on an thought I had after playing the Shadow of War DLC "The Blade of Galadriel". Evidently, information technology's absolutely non-canon, and created only because I wondered if I could write an alternating story to the proper storyline. If you savour information technology, fantabulous. If you don't, then please just ignore it as pointless fanfiction.

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My trivial brother while watching LoTR Return of the Male monarch and seeing the Uruk-Kai army marching on Minas Tirath.

"Those guys need some bright lord"

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