Consolidation A Test of True Faith: [Consolidation for Nirnaeth Arnoediad]

[TheThird]

The Island of Elysium had awoken, and all would soon rush to its conquest. The dream had foretold a blade that could slay even the gods themselves, a weapon of such terrible power that every kingdom, warlord, and faith upon Terra Firma would seek to claim it. Armies would march, banners would rise, and blood would be spilt in pursuit of a weapon none truly understood. Yet the Gods of Old had not been blind to these omens, and would not sit idly by to watch their demise.

Long ago, when the elves of Malamac still walked beneath the light of Elentir and their faith had not yet been fractured by corruption, the gods had bestowed upon them sacred relics born of divine craft and celestial purpose. Gifts meant not for conquest, but for protection. For faith and sacrifice. Now, as the world stirred toward another age of war, those relics stirred as well, searching for Champions to wield them in the name of their Gods.

Ulundil of House Guruthos was one such soul. Born to an ancient lineage whose name carried both reverence and shadow, Ulundil had been raised within a household where faith was not merely tradition but duty. His family traced its devotion back to the earliest days of Malamac. Though the world around him had changed, though corruption had crept through land and blood alike. The old prayers had never faded from the halls of House Guruthos.

This path will be treacherous and will lead him through sorrow and grief, but he is led by the will of the gods, and thus, if his faith is preserved, so will he be carried in their strength through the trials and battles to come.

This is the story of how Ulundil claimed the Shield of tears unnumbered.

 

[Ulundil of House Guruthos]

Ulundil awoke abruptly from his sleep. He had dreamt the most strange thing under the stars. Ulundil's mother had often told him the importance of dreams. It is where the reality of our world clashes with the desire of our mind, where past and future blend into an amalgamation of characters and scenes shown to you most strangely and indirectly. His mother always found a way to make even the most minuscule things seem fascinating and beautiful; it is a shame the elf could not share this dream with her, like he used to so many years ago.

This dream felt too real; its words lingered in Ulundil's mind, and the pictures swam through his thoughts as he walked down a long road in the eastern erovian wilderness. What did it mean, and why could he not shake its memory off?

All day, the Knight walked on and on, no clear path for him to follow, only the thoughts and this dream keeping him true company. Ulundil could no longer walk in silence; he had to speak, he had to voice his thoughts, and so he spoke. "I do not remember reading about an Island of Elysium in my time in the grand library of Orsi. It sure would be interesting if this dream turned out to be based in truth" He did not look or direct these words at anyone, but he knew someone was listening; there always was. "Maybe we could go visit the shores again. I have heard the finest wines are made in that region," He chuckles at the thought, as a smile grows on his face.

Finally, a destination in sight.

 

[Ulundil of House Guruthos]

Ulundil's travels carried him into the vast forests of eastern Erovia. It was on the third day that the knight saw something deeper within the woods, something far off the worn forest path. A golden light, no more than a faint shimmer in the distance, flickered between the leaves. Erovia was a land filled with old mysteries and quiet wonders. Fate had shown the elf this light, and Ulundil knew better than to ignore such things. Fate afterall is guided by the hands of the gods. Without hesitation, the devout elf stepped from the path and deeper into the woods, following only the small glimmer of light through the towering pines.

He had walked until the sun had long vanished and the stars dotted the pitch-black sky with their cold, distant glow. At last, he had arrived; before him carved into the side of a forest-covered hill was a grotto of ancient elven design. The stone had been shaped into tall pillars wrapped in winding stone vines of carved marble, their surface blooming with eternal flowers frozen in time. It was as if a single moment of life had been etched into the hillside and preserved there for centuries. At the centre of the structure stood a great open entrance, no gate sealed it, no stone blocked the way; it stood open as though waiting. Above the threshold, engraved into pale stone, were the words "Mana meril auta"

Ulundil read the old inscription before whispering its meaning aloud, "What will you choose to lose?"

The question lingered heavily in the night air. For a moment, he turned, glancing back over his shoulder into the silent pine forest behind him. The woods stood still and empty beneath the starlight, offering no answers. For now, he chose to press on, into the elven groto and into the dark and silent depths that lay before him. The Gods had led him this fahr he thought, it would be a shame to turn back now and never learn what waited beyond the veil of his sight.