The days stretched ahead like rivers winding toward an unknown destination, hinting at impending change.
I slept.
I dreamed.
And in my waking hours, I listened to the world's breaths, each inhalation pregnant with possibility.
The basin I had discovered was transforming into something more a quiet refuge on the brink of revealing new truths. Over time, my presence shaped its very essence: the cliffs darkened, absorbing the heat that escaped from me; streams of molten rock solidified into twisted monuments of obsidian and basalt; lush forests erupted along the basin's edges, drawing strength from the minerals of the newly disturbed earth.
Life flourished around me, unaware of the significance of its growth in my shadow.
Yet, even in this concealed sanctuary, a sense of anticipation crackled in the air.
The whispers returned, thicker and more insistent, woven together with silk and steel.
But this time, they felt tangible, charged with energies that promised inevitable encounters.
One evening, as the young stars began to dot the sky and the twin moons of Arda hung low and silver, a shape emerged across the basin floor.
At first, I thought it was merely a trick of the heat dancing above the stone an illusion born of exhaustion. But as the figure drew nearer, a feeling of unease began to settle in my core.
It wasn't a beast.
It was a spirit woven into flesh a Maia.
Tall and regal, he moved with a fluid grace, his form draped in robes that shimmered like oil on water. His hair was as black as night, and his eyes glinted like the sharpest shards of glass. In his hand, he bore a staff twisted with veins of iron and obsidian, humming with a promise of power yet to be unleashed.
He halted a considerable distance from where I lay, though to him, I was but a distant mound.
And then he spoke not aloud, but directly to my mind, his voice sliding between my thoughts like silk.
"Great one," he said, his tone warm and inviting. "I bring greetings from one who understands your plight."
I remained silent, still as an ancient titan, smoke curling lazily from my open jaws.
The Maia continued, his presence alive with unspoken possibilities.
"You are alone," he said. "A king without subjects. A force without purpose. They will fear you, those who claim to love this world. When it suits them, they will cast you out, binding you in chains of song and sorrow."
I shifted slightly, a minor movement that reverberated like thunder across the land.
"But there is another path," the Maia said quickly, an urgency threading through his words. "A master who does not fear your strength. A lord who will give you purpose… and glory beyond your dreams."
His words flowed like honey, luscious yet laced with dangerous promise.
And though he didn't utter the name, I instinctively knew.
Melkor.
The fallen Vala, whose ambition was poised to rend the world apart, sought to claim my allegiance.
The allure was undeniable.
To be needed. To find my place. To be more than a relic of chance, drifting in a world seemingly devoid of my essence.
But I was not blind to the implication.
I could sense the decay at the heart of the offer. I glimpsed the flickering visions the Maia conjured a world scorched and shattered, where rivers flowed with crimson and forests blazed beneath iron skies. A vision of a reality where I would not be revered, but used. Hurled into conflicts like a living artillery until my bones splintered and my fires were extinguished.
"No, I would not be shackled" I rought
With a deliberate motion, I rose to my full height.
The Maia flinched, retreating slightly as the ground trembled under my weight, great slabs of stone cracking and shifting around me.
I spoke not a word; my refusal echoed clearly through the rumble of my ascent and the molten fire that welled within me.
The Maia's annoyance became tangible, his form blurring at the edges like the smoke of a fading flame.
"You choose unwise," he spat, his voice as sharp as shattered obsidian. "You choose solitude. You choose to be forgotten."
And then, in a swirl of blackened mist, he vanished, speeding northward to relay news of my defiance to his dark master.
I stood alone once more, the ground beneath me scorched and cracked a harbinger of what was to come.
But I sensed the world shifting around me.
The tremors of my defiance would echo through the realms, heralding the approach of events yet unseen.
The days that followed held an uneasy tension.
The skies appeared dimmer, though no clouds obscured them. Whispers of distant flames and ash danced on the wind. Creatures of the forest grew restless, fleeing southward as if some great and terrible storm was gathering.
And in the far reaches of the world, the Valar prepared, poised to respond to the brewing conflict.
In the Courts of Valinor
High atop Taniquetil, the tallest peak in the world, Manwë sat upon his throne, wrapped in the radiance of the airs.
Below him, the other Valar had gathered, drawn by swift messengers who crossed the oceans in the blink of an eye.
The atmosphere was thick with foreboding.
"Melkor moves," Manwë stated, his voice resonating with the gravity of mountains.
Aulë frowned, his hands interlaced in contemplation.
"He seeks the Mountain-Beast," he said gravely. "He desires to claim what we allowed to flourish freely."
Oromë paced restlessly, the hooves of his great steed Nahar striking sparks against the ground. The air shimmered with tension, and all present sensed that the winds of change were on the horizon
"We should strike first," he growled, his voice laced with urgency. "Banish the creature before Melkor can weave his plans against us."
Yet Yavanna raised her voice, resolute and steadfast.
"He has committed no offense," she proclaimed. "He has harmed nothing. Yes, he has shaped the land with his very breath but he has shaped it toward beauty, not destruction."
Ulmo's voice rolled like the deep ocean waves, contemplative yet powerful.
"The Mountain-Beast possesses will. It chose defiance. It chose not to bend to Melkor's whims."
Manwë sat in contemplative silence for a moment, his eyes half-closed, attuned not to mere words but to the deeper Music that hummed throughout the fabric of the world.
At last, he spoke with a measured tone.
"We will hold our position," he decided. "Not yet."
A murmur rose among the gathered Valar an echo of relief mingled with unease.
"We will observe," Manwë continued. "And we shall trust that the will of the One who created all will reveal itself in due course."
Yet not all were satisfied.
Even among those who supported him, the seeds of uncertainty had been sown.
~~Back in The Wilds~~
I felt it all the tension, the shifting of powers.
The world thrummed with anticipation.
I was no longer hidden.
Melkor would return, whether cloaked in dreams or darkness, weaving subtle traps. The Valar would be on guard, perhaps ready to intervene if I gave them reason, and the land itself new, untamed, vibrant awaited the unfolding of my destiny.
I gazed toward the distant horizon, where mountains rose like the very bones of gods.
There was so much yet to see.
So much to reshape.
And my journey… was just beginning.