Darkness enveloped Raderon, as he lay on harsh, rough terrain with his eyes closed. Originally dull and lifeless, senses and memories came flooding back to him. The air smelled of smog and industry. Slowly, his eyelids parted in order to display a pair of deep, green eyes. Eyes which, many years ago, clung fondly onto love, hope, and goodness. His vision was poor, and slowly came into a strong focus to show thin smoke and grey cloud, moving lifelessly in the silent night sky.
He had not been to this world for many years, and only the Valar themselves knew why he was back. For the time being, that question would remain exactly that. He never wanted to be here, yet it appeared that he never had a choice in the matter.
Raderon was now much older than his first incarnation. The once bright and hopeful eyes of a youth had disintegrated into a much darker and reckless persona. No longer was he a fool for strong principles and beliefs. The Human side of his ideology, given to him through his father, Reder, were quickly overcoming his Elfish and Mother’s side, which had been in a strong retreat ever since the land of Elves and Men had branded him and his once mighty empire as outcasts.
He stood up, in order to survey the world that was now his home. He was on the precipice of a great mountainside. A red glow surrounded the horizon. Raderon knew this place. Somewhere within the great well of lost knowledge from his different lives sparked sentences from a language that he no longer understood. Yet, one word sprung to mind. This one word is all that he acknowledged – the word of “Mordor”.
Once home to both vicious rivals and strong allies, Mordor was neither friend nor foe to Raderon. He realised that he was atop the lowest point of Ered Lithui – The Ash Mountains, and if he was to begin his unexpected and abrupt journey, he had no choice but to enter the Black Land. Raderon no longer desired love or warmth. Instead, the once regal man, whom was neither Human nor Elf, sought only one subject – power. Control and leadership was all that he’d known from a young age, with his sapling armies of The Trollshaws all kneeling before him, due to Reder’s shocking death as a result of betrayal. Not that he wanted it, but acceptance from his Elven and Human kin was now impossible. The power Raderon needed more than air and life itself was only available in one place.
As he looked down to his waist, his greying hair swept down across his nose and chiselled chin. Clasping his sword with his right arm on the hilt, he strode as fast as his now rejuvenated body could manage him into Mordor, and onwards to the Dark Tower. He had an important meeting with an old friend, and new ally.
