A New Darkness - CHAPTER ONE

He was old. Older than many men who were still alive from the third age. But he wasn't simply a man, he was a magician. A practioneer of the black arts that were sprouting as new religions all through Middle Earth. But for all his age he ran, and he was running fast, or fast as his frail body might allow him. He looked behind him, as the wind blowing from the east blew his black beard across his thin face that almost seemed skull like and grotesque in it's appearance, and there in the distance was a cloud of dust formed from the Kings scouts on horseback that were hunting him. It was a few hours before dawn, so maybe with his black robe he would not be seen so easily. He was scared, and expected no mercy. He knew that if they caught up to him they would not kill him immediately, but would take him before the king, who with all his power would pry all his crimes from his soul. Then to death he would be put.
He saw the broken gate before him, and cursing himself for not realizing the direction in which he was travelling, had travelled into the forbidden lands of Mordor where even now, nothing grew or lived in this wasted land. The choice was a tough one. The mercy of a quick death with the king, or an unknown fate, maybe worse than death awaiting for him in this desolate place. He looked back and noticed the scouts slowing their pursuit, cautious at entering the desolate land of Mordor also. They would think twice about entering, just the same as he was. The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon and the gate stood out like jagged teeth of some ancient beast against the horizon, the sunlight gleaming red like a line of blood along some ancient wound. The light reminded Gorgon as to why the kings scouts were after him.
He heard her voice in his head, the cries of pain as he punctured her body draining it of blood. Blood that he needed for his spells and magic. For of all the things that Gorgon desired, immortality was his goal, and to reach his perverse end he needed blood, blood of children, and Minas Tirith, with its blooming population was perfect for his means. Unfortunately, he had not counted on one of his victims being the kings niece, nor had hi counted on the little brat to escape his dungeoun on the outskirts of Minas Tirith and make it to the king. But she had. As soon as he walked down the stone stairs into his dungeon and saw her gone, he grabbed his journal and ran to his horse and galloped out of town. That had been three days ago. On the second day his horse drinking water by a small stream was bitten by a poisonous water snake on the lip and had died within minutes. And now with the kings men but a quarter day away from him, he realized he was entering Mordor. Cursed he seemed in all his actions.
The wind blew harder from the east, it seemed to him, at least cooling him from the dreaded heat and ash that seemed to make up this land. He kept running towards the gate making up his mind as he went that he would rather die of heat or if worse came, take his life than to see the Kings gaze fall upon him. He looked back again and noticed that the wind behind him was blowing harder, making it hard for him to see the men that followed him, and reckoned that they would hardly see him also. The clouds began to darken as if a thunderstorm approached, dimming the morning light, as he entered Mordor through cracks that mazed through the toppled black gate.
He climbed and crawled through the gates as rain poured down from the skies, but this was no ordinary rain, it's color was as black as mire muck, its texture was like that of oil, and it coated all that it touched with stench and rot. Any thorny plant that had grown, seemed to take in this vile water and start to grow and multiply before his eyes. In fear that these thorns were after him, Gorgon ran faster, his aged legs burning from all the running, and tripped, fell inot a fissure that took him down into the depths of hell.
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