MORDOR BIOGRAPHY - Gollarn Half-Orc and the Fall of Darkness

This is a storming biographical piece written by Seralqua. It could just as well live in Fanfics.

Part One.
Gather round, sit close to the fire. Keep a hand on your sword - even the trees have ears. The tale you’re about to hear has never before been told outside the harsh fastness of Barad-dûr. No witness other than the blood-stained stones have ever heard these words, the story of Cirdar Half-Orc and the Fall of Darkness.

Now it happened, many years ago, in the lands of Harad, that the Easterling Goldarin was courted by Garrash, an Orc Captain from the Bodyguard of Sauron. These two brought forth the child Gollarn, a sturdy boy who loved the wide open plains of Harad, and grew up skilled in all manner of boatmanship. He it was who, first of the Easterlings, took boat down to the shores of Anduin the Great. He gained renown as a captain, and voyaged forth to the shores and lakes of Middle Earth.

Now, due to the shame of Goldarin before her family, one condition was placed on Gollarn, allowing him only to travel the lands of the peaceful races under cover of darkness, in the winter months when great winds of hail sliced the countryside. Furthermore, the half-Easterling, half-orc shunned the light, of sun or moon, as they revealed to him his shortcomings. They showed Gollarn his true face - the mix of bloods, that placed him as an outcast from both his parents' clans.

So the boy grew into a young man, skulking behind a covered-helm, hiding his deformities behind a mask of exploration. He became one with the wilds, embracing Mirkwood and the wastes of Fangorn like a lover. And time passed.

After many years, there came a year when Gollarn strayed for longer from the lands of his birth than ever before. His faltering steps, as the first buds of spring began to bloom, led him in strange paths. His boat left behind, in the pack ice of the North, his crew deserted or dead, Gollarn found himself on a sudden in the midst of Lothlorien. Unawares, he had entered the realm of light, unmarked by Elf or beast. As the wind rose, piercing his very skin, he collapsed amidst the Golden trees, despairing of his life...

Part Two.
But one had noted his passing. From the edge of the path, the Elf maid Katerin saw Gollarn as he lay in the snow. She approached, breathing a warmth of hope back into the Easterling's limbs. As in a mirror, the maid perceived the life of the young voyager, saw his humble beginnings, and his long struggle with being an outcast. She saw his rise to eminence as a voyager, shallowly hiding his deep hurt and rejection. His deep-seated fear of becoming trapped in the grasp of his Father’s Lord, in the service of Melkor the Dark.

Gollarn arose, his eyes pained by the light of Katerin. Her voice sounded to him like a bell, a soft striking, calling him home. The softness of her eyes caressed him, healing his broken body. Her long, waist-length hair wrapped around him, warding off the bitter cold.

Over the months, Gollarn remained, laying under the greenwood roof of the Elves, walking peacefully along their long, cool colonnades of majestic trees. And, as time passed as in a dream, the Easterling fell into the Elf-maid’s heart. As the days ran one into the other, and the sun of spring began to tease the running streams, he saw Katerin as the soul within his dried husk of a body.

Then came a glorious day, a cool eventide by the winding Anduin, when Gollarn and Katerin walked side by side. And Gollarn spoke. For the first time since his youth, he sang. His heart lifted, proclaiming his unworthy love for the fair maid. His joy blossomed into fullness, as her voice, like liquid pearls in the sunset, returned his love. At last, Gollarn the Half-Orc was accepted. His hands lifted to heaven as his soul was released. No longer was he despised because of his breed. He was loved!

But the poison of his Father’s line ran deep, and Melkor’s servants already had their barbed hooks within his skin. Gollarn’s peace was not to last. From the steeled depths of Minas Morgul, the Nazgûl set their trap. The bait - one beautiful Elf maid called Katerin.

Part Three.
Now at this time, a fell season ravaged much of Middle Earth. And in the heart of Lothlorien, foul creatures stirred, seeking out the Elf Katerin. There came a night, pitch-black with an evil wind, when Gollarn walked abroad. His body whole, and mind salved by the Elves, he planned a return to the lands of Mordor, to see the place of his birth one last time before his old life was forgotten. Before the year was out, at the hands of Elrond, the Easterling and his Elf would be made one, in a union of life. But as he walked, a heavy spirit fell upon his lover, as she lay asleep under the mallorn. Her heart stirred, shaking off the trappings of her Firstborn ways, remembering - grasping backwards, seeking for an event in her early childhood. As the Nazgûl watched in glee, the maid descended into memories, blocked from her at an early age.

And she remembered. She found again, her visit to the Dark lands, her dedication, at an early age, to the service of Morgoth, Melkor, the Fallen Valar. And as she slept on, the voices of her masters called, instructing her, to bring about the downfall of her lover.

That night, Katerin left. She fled from the Blessed lands, passing beyond the knowledge of all, even the Wise. And behind, she left a message - a break in the bond between her and Gollarn. A refusal of his love, cruel words that bit deep on the Easterling’s return. Bitter words, that drove him into grief.

In mourning despair, Gollarn left the inhabited lands, and wandered far away from all life. His heart heavy, the Half-Orc, reminded of his deformities, his mixed race, made a vow. With a cry of hatred, Gollarn changed his name, calling himself Cirdar, a mocking parody of good, of light, and joy. And Gollarn, now named Cirdar, resumed his mask. He swore, to follow the lords of Mordor, the masters of his Father. To get a heavy vengeance on the Elves, whom he thought false. Gollarn-Cirdar realised not the hand of Morgoth behind his lover’s deeds, but fell - fell, into the grasp of the laughing Nazgûl. A new servant had been added to the ranks of Mordor.

Here endeth the sorrowful tale of Gollarn Half-Orc, and the Fall of Darkness.