Lord Of The Ring Celeborn Novels & Stories

Deep beneath the New York fortress, in a chamber layered with sigils and protective spells, Elias, Cassian, Seraphina, Malthea, and Bain gathered around the crystal table. Aragorn, still swaddled in Cassie’s arms, cooed softly as the energy in the room shifted. “The vision he gave us…” Elias whispered. “I can still see it — a door of ivory, standing between two great voids.” Cassian, standing next to him, added in his calm, eerie voice, “The Hollow King fears it. That’s why he fights harder now.”

The ground kept trembling and I looked up, searching for the reason behind this strange earthquake. The last portal flashed in the distance, Selmor accompanied by an elder man with a grey beard appeared, he was strapped down to him by a leash. The man must be the druid by the name of Grendal. Before the portal zapped closed, two giant creatures nudged their way through the magical gateway.

It was a translucent figure that appeared to be of mixed heritage, clearly someone from a different era. He had black hair but eyes of a different color. This was the evil spirit from before, dead for so many years that the stench of decay hit everyone immediately. His face looked burned, with eyelids rolled upward. Judging from his clothes, his status was high during his lifetime. After all, back in those days, only the rich or powerful could afford a wristwatch. His name was Sauron Cathon. "You're the one who possessed my daughter!" Kelsier's eyes blazed with fury. "Where is she?"

“Because the Elders are not my concern.” Selene stepped back. “They should be.” “I don’t fight old battles,” Aylexelen said over his shoulder. “I fight the ones still to come.” Selene looked at Theoden. “What am I supposed to do?” She asked through mindlink. “I don’t know. I don’t trust him. But maybe you should try to understand…that.” He replies through the mindlink, gesturing to the obelisk. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” Theoden turned to face Aylexelen who was watching the woods, like he was waiting for something.

my father questioned. “Because we need to save my mother first. Our enemy is a bigger deal than we could’ve ever imagined,” she replied. King Aragon turned to King Brennus, shooting him a look. “Carlton is Eligor.” “As in the dark wizard from Advalur?” my grandfather asked. “The very one,” King Brennus confirmed. “How is that possible?” my father asked.

Trey asks. "Huh?" his comment flies way over my head. "It's a character from The Lord of the Rings. He carries an axe," Finn deadpans like its knowledge everyone should know. "The one with all those walking trees, right?" I ask. Trey's face turns to shock at my question, but I can't tell if it's because I know the movies or maybe I called them the wrong objects. Are they not trees? They're tall and have leaves. Everything screams tree. Well, except the fact they walk and talk, but everything else is pure tree.

Rylan and I crouched low behind a fallen trunk, barely breathing as wolves moved through the trees, their boots crushing leaves and snapping branches. One warrior passed so close I could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then, after several tense moments, they began returning to the Den. “There’s nothing,” one of them reported. Another hesitated. “I thought I saw someone,” he said slowly. “Looked like… Kaelen.” Silence followed. Then Thorin laughed. A low, dismissive sound. “Kaelen is dead,” he said. “He died the moment i threw him off the Execution Cliff.”

(Caelum Ashborne) The ember-flame stretched, sharpening into a rough outline of a man’s face—no clear features, just the impression of strong bone and old scars. Eyes like coals. A crown of shadowed horns made of smoke and memory. Heat radiated off the projection with such intensity that the nearby shadows hissed and shrank back, leaving Caelum momentarily exposed. Arkael Ashborne. Leader of the Emberborn. The man who had taught Caelum to walk on hot stone before he could walk on grass.

One of the Thrones rose. He stepped down from his seat with a slow, deliberate grace. He was taller than the others, his robe threaded with starlight and frost. When he moved, the torches in the hall dimmed, as if the light itself bent away from his authority. His face was not wholly human; it carried an ageless cruelty, a sculpted statue of justice. When he spoke, his voice was a winter that spread through bone and stone. “Selene Emberlain,” he said, each syllable measured and absolute. “What madness brings you to the Hall of the Thrones?”

"I'll be heading off to the East lands to visit some friends in the morning, I hope you don't mind if I hang around with you until then." An angelic smile curled up on her split lip as her heavy eyes began to close. "I'd like that." Waiting on the young noble woman the entire day and night, Haldir tried to snuff out the bight on his conscience before he finally dozed off in the uncomfortable chair he sat in. Walking through the dense dark forest in his dream, Haldir came upon a mountain with a castle built into the side of it. Massive gargoyles glowered down at him as he came to the wooden doors and walked inside.