Description
A Tolkien fanfic. I DO NOT OWN Tolkien's world or his original characters. I only claim my OCs. Celethuil gazed out across the sea of trees and Ents in Fangorn, his moss green eyes squinting as he spotted his Captain of the Guard, Thilion, ensuring that their borders were safe. He and his people had managed to stay hidden for thousands of years. Not even the supposedly all-seeing eye of Sauron knew where or who they were. Celethuil's only allies were the elves he governed and the Ents that protected them. However, he acknowledged a stirring in the air. Something was changing. The King shifted his gaze toward the tower of Saruman. An uneasy knot settled in his stomach as he stared suspiciously at Isengard. He knew the White Wizard had a plan brewing, and he knew it would bring a time of terror to the world. For he could feel the draw of the ring, calling to him from afar. He could smell the stench of orcs in the misty air around him. War was coming. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. The King whistled lowly to his Captain, mimicking the trill of a swallow. Thilion raised his head and met his King's eyes. "Send your brother to Mirkwood. Take yourself to Lorien. It is time we make ourselves known to our kin".
Prologue
