Legacy of the Storm
The years had flown by since the tragic events that had altered the course of Taranis' life. Now, at 45 years since the events of The Hobbit, Taranis stood on the edge of a mountain pass, looking out over the vast, snow-capped peaks of Forodwaith. His mind wandered back to the day he and Liriel had settled here, in the cold, desolate lands that had become their home. The snow-covered terrain mirrored the starkness of their existence, isolated and untouched by the problems of Middle-Earth's kingdoms. Here, they had raised their son, Maedhros Feanorian Storm, named in honor of Liriel's uncle Maedhros the Tall.
But now, the winds of fate had swept through their lives again, and once more, Taranis found himself at the mercy of the shadows of Middle-Earth. Word of Liriel's beauty, and the presence of a mortal like Taranis, had reached the wrong ears—those of a bandit warlord who coveted what he could not have.
The warlord, a brutal and unforgiving man, had sent his men to take Liriel, believing that by killing Taranis, he could claim her for himself. Bandits swarmed into their home in the dead of night. But Liriel was no weakling, and even in her grief, she fought back fiercely. Her strength was not only in her beauty but in her blood, the fierce legacy of the House of Fëanor running through her veins. She had managed to escape with Maedhros, but in the struggle, she had been mortally wounded.
When Taranis had returned to find his home shattered, his wife barely clinging to life, his heart had broken into a thousand pieces. Yet, even in her final moments, Liriel had told him to go and protect their son. She had held on long enough to whisper words of love, and then she was gone, her breath leaving her body like the last trace of a fading storm.
Enraged, Taranis had hunted down every single bandit who had participated in the attack. His fury was like lightning, unstoppable and blinding. When the bandit war chieftain fell before him, Taranis was gravely injured, a deep gash across his side, blood staining the snow beneath him. But the bandit leader was dead, and so were the five hundred men under his command. The vengeance was complete, but the cost was too great.
Fatally wounded, Taranis knew his time was running out. In his final moments, he turned to Maedhros, his son, who had watched in fear from the shadows of their home, too young to understand the full weight of what had transpired. But now, Taranis would give him the legacy he had forged with his own two hands.
"Maedhros," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his breath shallow, "You must carry on for your mother... for me. Take my sword—Anguirel—and my armor. Be strong. Protect the innocent. And never let the darkness take you."
With trembling hands, Maedhros accepted the sword, the Mithril chainmail, and the Dwarven armor. His small face, still young, was filled with determination, but the tears welled in his eyes as he realized the enormity of the loss he was about to bear. His father was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Taranis smiled weakly, pressing a hand to Maedhros' cheek. "I love you, son. And I will always be with you."
The sun was setting as Taranis' soul left his body, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the light faded into night. He had lived for a purpose, and though it had been a short life, he had left behind a legacy of strength and honor.
Maglor, Taranis' father-in-law and the son of Fëanor, had been living in quiet grief ever since the loss of his daughter, Liriel. When Taranis and Liriel had run away together all those years ago, Maglor had been filled with a mix of anger and sorrow, unable to accept their decision. But, as time passed, he had softened. The love Liriel and Taranis shared had been undeniable, and in their son, Maedhros, Maglor had seen the reflection of his daughter's beauty, strength, and spirit.
Maglor had raised Maedhros as his own, teaching him the ways of combat, the stories of his ancestors, and the values that had been instilled in him by the House of Fëanor. Maedhros, despite his youth, had shown a keen understanding of both the blade and the heart, growing into a young warrior who sought to live up to his father's legacy.
But now, the news of Taranis' death reached Maglor's ears, and the old elf, whose heart had been hardened by centuries of pain, could not contain his sorrow. He had never fully accepted Taranis as a son, but with his death, Maglor had come to realize the depth of his love for his daughter and her mortal husband.
Maedhros, now grown, had never known a world without his parents. He had lived a quiet life in the remote lands of Forodwaith, under the shadow of his father's sword, and had always been told the stories of his parents' love, of their journey and sacrifice. But now, Maedhros was on his own, the last living reminder of the storm that had been Taranis and Liriel.
Upon hearing of Taranis' death, Maglor's grief overwhelmed him. He had loved his daughter, Liriel, as fiercely as he loved the very soul of Middle-Earth itself. Now, he had to lay her to rest, in the land where she had been buried beside her husband.
Maglor traveled to the place where Liriel had been laid to rest, finding the tomb where his daughter slept forevermore. His heart clenched, and tears fell unbidden as he knelt beside her grave. He whispered words of regret, of love, and of sorrow—regret for not having been able to accept Taranis fully, love for the daughter he had lost, and sorrow for a legacy that could never be undone.
And as Maglor wept for the loss of his daughter, he made his way to the mountain where Taranis had died. The old elf felt the weight of the storm, the loss, and the fury of Taranis' final stand.
There, on the mountain where Taranis had breathed his last, Maglor found the body of his son-in-law, the mortal man who had given his life to protect his family. Maglor, for the first time in years, felt a sense of peace. Taranis had died as he had lived, with honor, with valor, and with a fierce love for those he held dear. Maglor buried Taranis beside his daughter, a fitting resting place for the warrior who had stood by her side until the very end.
Maedhros stood over their graves, his heart heavy with grief, but also filled with determination. The son of Taranis and Liriel would not let the darkness of the world take him. He would carry the weight of their legacy, and he would honor his parents in ways they could never imagine.
"I swear, Father. I will become the warrior you were, and I will protect the innocent, as you did. I will punish the evil that haunts this world, just as you fought against it."
And with that vow, Maedhros Feanorian Storm set out into the world, the legacy of his parents—the storm and the flame—coursing through his veins.
This is the end of this book.
The new one will be released soon and tells the story of Maedhros Feanorinan Strom, the son of Storm, the king of lightning and storm. takes place during Lord of the rings