Elves of Darkness
By Christopher, Benjamin and Daniel Momose
February 2002
in the western lands there is a monument to three of the great warriors of Middle Earth. It is not a statue or a great work of art, but rather, a pile of blackened stones scattered in the deep woods. The stones themselves are not impressive, moss covered and ancient beyond compare, they are a monument to three warriors: Calen Dae Ancu, Dirk Angluin and Belleas Morgwath. Together they formed the mightiest of those that traveled in Middle Earth. They were the Black Hunters.
Long ago, long before the Ring of Power was hurled into Mount Doom, long before Suaron was defeated, there were the Black Hunters. They were the elite of rangers, without equal in the western lands. Calen was the eldest of the three, wise in the ways of old, unequaled in woodland skill. Belleas, most valiant, brought to the group the masterful skill given to him by three thousand years of training; he was most skilled in long-range combat. Dirk, the youngest at only 843, was the proudest and most pugnacious. He would set his eyes on a goal and either succeed, or die trying.
They all wore black galvorn armor, protecting them from any blade or dart, but it was inefficient against pure crushing power. They also had singollo, gray clothes that rendered them all but invisible in any terrain where they roamed.,/p>
Late one morning in mid-summer, as the sun rose towards the middle of the sky, the three were walking along the Darthenil, the largest river in the western lands, its blue waters glittering in the morning sun. Dirk, rearranging his heavy double-handed battle sword, grumbled about the scant rations of dry bread and cheese.
"How come we are forced to eat so little? An elf can't live on this!"
"Patience, my young friend, we will soon find a hart or fowl," answered Calen.
"Tracks, maybe three hours old," said Belleas, stowing away his food, and indicating the crushed grass along the riverbank.
"About two and a half hours. There were six, all over three hundred pounds, moving slowly, one without footwear," answered Calen as he scanned the tracks.
"All right, lets hunt some orc," called Dirk as he raced across the lush field.
"Dirk! Patience! Remember what happened last time!" implored Belleas. Shrugging as Dirk continued to run, Belleas called over his shoulder to Calen, "lets hurry, we want to get in on the fight."
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