Aramel
| Name: | Aramel Calawen (not real name, of course) |
| Age: | 12 |
| Gender: | Female |
| About me: | I am absolutely crazy about books and am trying my hand at writing. Mostly Lord of the Rings fanfics, and a little bit of LOTR poetry. I mostly write in English, though my native language is Chinese, and I'm rummaging around to try learn either Quenya or Sindarin. |
| Email: | aramel_calawen@yahoo.com |
| Sample of writing: | A few wet, muddy days later, the small company was tracking in a very wild, dark forest. The trees towered far overhead, their huge tops wrapping all below in a greenish twilight. The forest was eerily quiet; not a bird sang. Looking around, Aramel noticed spider webs spun around the massive trunks of the trees, draped like gossamer fine silk. There was a faint tenseness in the air, and an undescribable feeling of being watched. Somewhere from ahead there murmured the waters of a river. Other rivers had bright cheery voices, or slow majestical songs to the Elvish mind. Not so this one. It muttered darkly, railing against the darkness, and the light more, railing against the warmth and cold, the sky and earth, and bespeaking a wish to choke all life that crossed its path. Aramel was beginning to feel that this place was eerily familiar. She looked up, hoping not to see the thing that would confirm her fears, and groaned. There jutted against the sky a pinnacle of rock, and on it was a cold stone tower. It was the tower of Dol Guldor. She was in Mirkwood. Looking at the wolf tracks, she saw that there was blood. Apparently, either the wolves, the orc, or something else had been wounded. Or someone else. The chilling thought crept into her mind. Looking once more at the track of prints, she saw that they led directly to the Tower. The Orc had headed there. Elanor was prbably there, too. They would have to face the ancient halls of the Necromancer. And whatever dwelt there now. |
