Title: The Unforgiven

Fandom: Lord Of The Rings, Hobbit

Type: Regular

Based on: Movies, Books

Rated: Fiction

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Friendship

Chapters: 77

Status: Complete

Language: English

Cover Image: Render by sellscarol (Editing by artalicous)

Trailer: You can find a short version of the Fanfic in YouTube. I have provided the link in my Profile. Enjoy!

Author's Note:

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, places, names, etc (only Ethir). It all belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson.

Read around chapter 6 to 10 before giving up. This FF is considered to have hit its starting point at around Chapter 6. ^_^

As you noted, I decided to write a LOTR Fan-fictions. (Yuppi!) I yearned for many years to write one. (Added more chapters to the FF/ edited 2019)

The main couple (as you all guessed) is an OC (Ethir) & Legolas. If the pair makes it through, I'll continue their adventure after the ring is destroyed. Later on the story advances in Mirkwood with Thranduil as a main character. Characters like Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, Arwen, Saruman, Elrond, Galadriel, Elvenking, will play an import part during the whole story. The rest of the Elves, Kings, humans, orcs, etc will be added when essential. I am a big fun of 'Aragorn & Arwen'. And they will be big part of the story. As well as Faramir and Èowyn.

Feel free to comment as much as you want. I like reviews! It really helps me to edit and make the story better. Be honest, tell me what you like or don't like about the story. And if you like it, Follow/Fev it!

Okay! Let's Start! Thank you for being tolerant!

Summary:

The future of middle earth rests in the fate of the One Ring, which has been lost for centuries. Powerful forces are unrelenting in their search for it. A fellowship of hobbits, elves, dwarfs, and men is formed to destroy the ring by casting it into the fires of Mount Doom, where it was forged. The travelers withstand lost, battles, war, until they reach their final task.

What they hadn't reckoned was the 10th walker (an outcast), who is an inheritor of the Dark Lord (Sauron), Ethir. A mortal, who grew up surrounded by fire and ash and poison and death. She saw malicious creatures filled with greed and fear. She was surrounded by darkness and evil forces. Her dark aura, and misty soul draws and dwells anything close to the light. Causing soreness to those who are pure and fair.

Lethal conspiracies are unveiled, old scores are ready to be settled, and the line between hero and villain is sharp enough to draw blood. Forgotten secrets will be uncovered. Bitter enemies will be forgiven. What will happen to them after the ring is destroyed. Let's unfold their Future.

~ Chapter One: A shadow of the past ~

After the battle of the five armies was over, Saruman the White, ensured Gandalf the Grey, 'to leave Sauron to him.' Gandalf, trusted his words. Since he was the wisest, among the wizards. Though his lust for power led him to side with Sauron (even yearning to take his place.) Secretly, (at first) he started to plot against the faith of middle earth, and aided Sauron to find the Ring. Seeking the one and only ring, he found more truths about Sauron, than anyone had. But, what really had caught his attention was the rumors that Sauron may had an offspring.

Sauron ... Sauron was originally a Maia... how could he leave behind any descendants? He was a Maia spirit, and not as mighty as the Valar. Mairon was one of the most if not the most powerful Maia ... Despite his defeat, Sauron was not vanquished permanently... he would need a connection with this world. More than 'The ring of power' someone in flesh and blood.

Saruman's thoughts were right. After a lot of search, he had proof that the Servant of Morgoth (Sauron), left behind a child, a son. He was a son of his blood and darkness. His son got married and had a son too. His wife died giving birth to the child. Years after the son of his was slayed, living behind a son. Generation, after Generation, a son would be born, the mother would die (after giving birth) and the father would be murdered (or slayed). And for two and a half thousand years the roots of Sauron remain on middle earth, hidden and forgotten. The time had now come again. For the forgotten Evil to rise.

Lord of Isengard, lay hands on the child. The Palantir foretold, where the child was located. Only, after thousands of years, it wasn't a boy. It was a girl. Like legend had it, her mother perished after giving birth to her. Her father months later died. He went himself and brought the child to Isengard. The discovery was a major secret that he planned to keep for himself (Until needed.) He was really surprised when he noticed that it was a girl. Her name was Ethir. A name her mother choose, before she perished. A child with pale and soft skin like hers, and dark colors. She looked like she was pure, royal or elfish. That's why, she choose a name with Elvish roots.

"Ethir. The last bloodline remaining on middle-Earth. You may be more valuable that you think little one." Saruman told her. Little Ethir, gave him a giggle.

Ethir was raised in Isengard. Saruman never hid the child. He never either revealed to anyone, who she really was. He gave her access to most parts of Isengard. He made sure Ethir was taught history, legends and myths of middle earth. She was taught, western, Elvish (including Quenya and Sindarin) and some Dwarfish (Khuzdul). And when she was five, her training in fist to fist, fencing / swordplay and archery started. She was raised for one purpose only. To be the right hand of Saruman.

Ethir, or the fearless shadow, was known with many names. She wasn't a Dúnedain. But she was not a simply human either. Her longevity did not decrease as much as that of men. She had more stamina, power and will, than other humans. It was noticeable, since young age.

She was often trained with Orcs, Goblins and any dark creature that Saruman thought wise to have her trained. At age 15, she choose her first sword. Although she was quit good in archery, she liked blades more. It made it easier for her to get closer to the enemy and slay him. Her sword was one of a kind. It was crafted by the Elves of the Woodland Realm, designed to be wielded double-handed, but so beautifully weighted and balanced that each can be wielded with one hand. It was silver, and the outline was gold.

Actually, there were two blades that were made hundreds of centuries ago. One was owned by the King of the Woodland Realm, Thranduil. The second was crafted for his wife Raeves. After her death, it was lost and found by Ethir in an old weapons hall. The sword itself held many secrets. Ethir was amazed by it's texture, lightness, design and balance. She delved and found about it's history. That it was crafted in Woodland Realm. That the Elvenking had a similar one. And that it was a very important blade.

As Ethir grew older, the white wizard noted what it meant to be an offspring of the Dark Lord. It was not her mischievous, dark and cruel character that made her that way. The magic of Saruman's voice, that could seduce or overwhelm the will of most men, had no effect on her. He couldn't bring her under any spell or will her. She was a free spirit. That was something that time to time scared Saruman.

She could sense auras, emotions and energy of others. She never spoke about it. Though, she could sense the evil, the good, the pure of this world. And she knew the difference between good and bad, wrong and fair, evil and pure. Ethir, met many creatures in her life. She also fought most of them. She didn't trust anyone. She mostly cared about herself. She had no issue, even slaying orcs or Goblins, if they were in her way.

The only positive thing in her life was Gandalf. As said, Saruman never hid Ethir. Of course he never told the truth about her. But she had spoken with The grey wizard many times. Of all the people, she respected him. Maybe because she could feel his earnest.

Years past, and Ethir was now a grown woman. She was 29 and due her bloodline she looked younger. Her skin remain as pale, and soft like silk as when she was a child. Though, scars and cuts covered many places of her body. She was 5' tall, slender, petite, with a quite trained and noticeable body. Her eyes were deep black (Jet black), that would shine at times. Her hair was long, Soft curls and waves, the color was brown. Most of the time, she wore it in a ponytail. She had long bangs that covert the edges of her face. Her eyebrows were thin and long. She had a pixie nose and thin lips. She was not just a pretty face, she was more than that.

Ethir's personality was notable. Her dark piercing eyes, that betrayed all innocence. Her sinful acts and dark aura, could easily cause suffer to anyone pure (who was close by). She was unkind, indifferent, wicked. She seemed flawless. But she was fire, and Ice mixed in the worse combination. That was one side of hers. The other (if there is another) she will come cross, in the new quest she will be summoned. Forgotten secrets will be uncovered, Lethal conspiracies are unveiled, what she once thought, it never was.

Her attire was described as, "entirely appropriate for battle", by Saruman. Her main outfit included a leather black corset that she wore beneath. It was made of leather and silver, and had designed a silver outline. Beneath she was wearing, a dark black woolen shirt during winter. Above a jacket, like a long cloak, that was specially crafted for her. It was tight in the right spots, and had many layers so she could move with out any problem. It also outlined her body, showing her curves. Beneath, she wore tight fine pants, and leather riding boots.

Age 18 - Mirkwood

The path at her feet faded as it leaded into the darkness of the woods, yet she followed it for the sake of a greater duel. Somewhere in there was the answered she needed, and so her feet followed the narrow strip of naked earth among the giants of root and leaf. Finally she was stepping into the lands, where her most important possession was crafted. The blade that was rested against her back, was returning home. Two words were carved against the blade 'Mirkwood' and 'Raeves'. Ethir knew what 'Mirkwood' stood for. She never figured out about 'Raeves'. Maybe it was the name of the previous owner. She did not put much thought into it.

Even if there was a moon tonight its silvery rays would not penetrate the dense canopy above. She was in too far in to turn back, the twilight she had mistaken for night had passed rapidly. However, her mind was set to one goal only. Seek out the Elven King and have him fight her. She had heard so many tales about the Elf King of Mirkwood. And most of them described him as the King of stone and wood. A self-centered, cold heard and very strong Elf. That gave enough reasons for Ethir to start her journey and reach Mirkwood.

And Mirkwood she reached. It was midnight when she crossed the borders of Mirkwood, only to stumble against a statue of a woman. The moon light revealed the face of the woman and that she was an elf. The rest was covered and hidden in dirt and brunches. The mortal paused and study the statue in detail. And she was only few steps away, when she noticed an tall figure close by.

"Who lingers in the shadow? Reveal yourself?" Thranduil voiced loudly and clear. There was no fear in his voice, or remorse. It was rare to find the ElvenKing riding alone, with out his two trusted men riding far away from his halls. Yet, he had his own reasons he was found riding alone.

It was disorientating to be almost blinded but given by the brightness that was emitting from the figure. 'An Elf' she thought as she stepped closer astonished. Her face did not show any of her bewilderment. However, it took her few long times to response. It was her first time she was actually crossing paths with an Elf. And she had to agree their exactly as she imagined them 'Shinny Pointy eared tree-hugging magic bastards!'

Thranduil stood tall, his silver robe was covering his slender figure, and on his head was a crown and his hand grasped his blade. He gazed at the female that above his shoulder, before he turned to watch her closer. Thranduil, acted cold and very calm. She could not acknowledge any weakness or flaw. "Is there a reason, you walk pass through my domain such late hour all alone human?" Thranduil suddenly paused and his eyes narrowed examining Ethir from head to toe.

Ethir allowed her eyes to rest against his crown. He was an Elf clearly from Mirkwood and he was wearing a crown. Her mind fast connected the dots and she was sure that spectacular creature in front of her was the Elven King. Haughty, Nimble, Wise, Environmentalist, and Graceful. Yet, so cold and annoying at the same time. But she was pleased with her luck and her face affirmed it. "No reason, Elf! I am only traveling through!" she back fired strongly.

He stepped closer with out any warning and pulled his sword pressing it against Ethir's neck. It was not actually the lack of her formality, that caused that outcome. But that the King had noticed the blade hanging on her back, that was now pulled and crushed against his. Metal met with Metal and the sound echoed through the Forest. "The sword Mortal, where did you find it?" he questioned her.

Ethir's eyes opened widely as the moon lid both blades and uncovered the similarities in design, craft and model. Her eyes watched in awe, as she slowly figured out that both blades were the same. The only difference was the unlike writings and the color of the design. "I did not steal it!" she hissed glaring opening at Thranduil.

"That was not my question Human!" he said sizing her dangerously "I will let you go, if you but return what is mine. You have my word!" Thranduil demanded with his blade still crossed with Ethir's.

Ethir was startled "Yours?" she repeated and noted in detail both swords. "Indeed both swords look alike. And, Mine was crafted in Mirkwood too. This swords (even if crafted in your lands) is mine! Why would I return something that already belongs to me?"

Thranduil tilted his head at her fearless act or was she stupid. There stood a human woman, a child only in his eyes, arguing with his words. "If you keep this attitude with me, your life will be at risk." the Elven-King threatened her openly.

"I do not plan to return it! The blade is mine!" Ethir spatted pinning her eyes against him "Yet, there is a way to claim it?" she suggested and withdraw her blade and stepped back. Thranduil was taken by surprise and waited for her to continue. "Fight me! If you win, my blade is yours. If you lose! Yours is mine!"

There was a nano second, where the Elf King felt astounded by her answer. A mortal female crossing his lands by nights and asking to fight with him. "You have a death wish?" he quizzed. Was she courageous or really foolish?

Ethir laughed "Are you scared?" She started cycling him with her gaze still pinned on him "It is a fair offer!" Ethir proudly glanced at him. Young still in age, she had tested her strengths against orc and goblins. There were more dangerous creatures on Middle Earth none the less. And tonight she would find out that her power was limited.

Silent overtook the area around them. Only the wind that was was touching against the Trees was noticeable. Thranduil's breath paused for several minutes. And then he stroke his blade against hers. Once again the blades met and a loud echoed escaped through the air. Ethir backed up the attack trying to withhold her ground. Easily said than done. She was fast enough to bloke the blow. Yet, the strength of the Elven King was something she had never crossed.

She dodged the second strike by stepping back and crushing against the ground. She forced the next attack and her blade collided and their duel began. True be told, it did not last long enough. Ethir was still young with not much experience and Thranduil had centuries of practice in open battles and wars. Suddenly, as Ethir lost her balance and tried to turn to inflict another hit. His blade shattered against her back and cut through her fabric and flesh.

Ethir's heart beat paused for a few seconds. She felt her flesh burn and then cut. She gasped and fell against the ground. That blow rattle her existence and it was her first serious wound. She felt the blood oozing against her skin. And the only thought that cross her mind was to repay him with the same wound or worse. Yet, she had just found out that her strength was nothing in compare with the Elven's King.

That night the spare ended. Thranduil never wished to inflict such a serious injury upon the human. He pulled back and lowered his blade letting her escape. Ethir retreated from Mirkwood with her remaining durability and her blade grasped against her fingers. She never won the duel as it was paused at least she managed to escape alive and with her sword. She rode for hours until she managed to find the nearest orc camp. There to stop the bleeding she burned her own flesh. Then came flashes of anger, jeers, shouting. She promised herself to train and practice and maybe one day she would take her revenge.

11 years later and a scar to remind her of her careless act. In this world there are creatures of higher powers and strengths she cannot easy will and win. For that she fought, dueled and spared as savagely as she could. Day by day, night by night. Honestly, she could never be equally at power with the Elf King. Yet, she was far from the foolish girl she was 11 years ago.

'I amar prestar sen (The world has changed)

han mathon ne nen, (I feel it in the water)

han mathon ne chae, (I feel it in the earth)

a han noston ned wilith. (I smell it in the air)'

Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal wisest, fairest of all beings. Seven were given to the Dwarf Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And Nine...nine rings were gifted to the race of Men who, above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived... ...for another ring was made...

In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring to control all others ...and into this Ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,

Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

(One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.)

The story of the one Ring starts here

((Next Chapter: 2))