Chapter 1: Starlight and Grey Memories
The chill of the breeze brushing against my skin wasn't from air conditioning. It didn't come from the synthetic currents of the climate control system in the giant glass dome I was used to. It was wind... real wind. It carried the scent of soil, leaves, and the dampness of a lake right to my nose.
I opened my eyes again. My last memory still replayed like a frozen hologram—the sound of twisting steel, blaring red alarms, and the massive impact of concrete beams crushing down on 'Kavin,' a 35-year-old engineer overseeing a mega-project. He should have been dead, his body crushed beneath the rubble in New York City.
But here...
I lifted my hand. It wasn't the rough hand that gripped drafting pens, but one that was pale, slender, and exquisite, like carved marble. My skin glowed faintly in the darkness. I touched my ear... and found it tipped with a long, slender point.
"Theron..."
A voice called out beside me. The language wasn't English, nor any tongue from the old world, yet strangely, I understood every word. I also knew, instinctively, that this was my name now.
I turned to look. The speaker was a young Elf with raven-black hair and eyes that sparkled like stars reflected on water. It was 'Finwë,' a fellow kinsman who had awakened alongside me on the shores of Lake Cuiviénen.
"You're gazing at the sky again," Finwë said with a smile, shifting closer. "The stars are brighter than usual tonight. Don't you think so, my friend?"
I looked up. This wasn't a sky stained by smog or toxic haze. It was a velvet black expanse adorned with millions of glittering stars. These weren't satellites or space stations; I recognized them from the classic fantasy novels I once loved. This was the handiwork of 'Varda,' the Lady of the Stars.
And now I knew where I was. Middle-earth. The Primeval Age. An era before the Sun and Moon were born, where only starlight guided the world.
Now, as a man who once believed in science, mathematics, and logic... and as 'Theron'... I stood at the most critical turning point in Elven history.
"The Great Journey is about to begin, isn't it?" I asked softly, trying to keep this unnaturally melodious voice steady, suppressing any tremor of unease.
Finwë nodded, his face filled with excitement and hope. "Yes. Oromë will arrive shortly. He will guide us to Valinor, the Land of the Gods, a land of eternal light... Are you not excited, my friend? We will no longer have to fear the shadows or the beasts sent by 'Melkor'."
I looked at Finwë, the future High King of the Noldor, the father who would sire 'Fëanor'—the son whose brilliance would bring ruin to the world. I knew his fate. I knew the outcome of this journey.
Going to Valinor meant paradise... but it was also a 'gilded cage.'
For ordinary Elves, it was survival. But for me, coming from a world where technology touched the edge of space, I knew that 'comfort' was the enemy of 'evolution.'
In Valinor, Elves would learn magic and art from the gods, but they would stagnate. They would remain children in their parents' embrace forever. And when the time came to face the real world in later ages, they would shatter.
"Eternal light..." I repeated, the corner of my mouth lifting in an unreadable smile. "Sometimes, light that is too bright can blind us just as effectively as total darkness, Finwë."
Finwë frowned.
"You always speak in riddles, Theron. Since we woke up, you look at stones, trees, and the currents of the water with eyes that are... contemplative. As if you are looking through them to their very core."
I chuckled low in my throat. I didn't just see stones; I saw 'minerals.' I didn't see trees as mere shelter; I saw 'construction materials' and 'biological mechanisms.' I didn't see the water just as water. My eyes didn't admire the beauty, but the turbines turning with kinetic energy... blueprints for a 'mini-dam' and a 'power plant.' Engineering, physics, and chemistry from the future were still packed into this Elven brain with its immense processing capacity, now fused with innate magical instinct.
If I went to Valinor, this knowledge would be useless, for the gods would magic everything into existence.
But if I stayed here... in Middle-earth...
I could build a true 'civilization.'
Not with magic alone, but with science fused with magic.
The thundering sound of hooves shook the forest. A brilliant golden light erupted on the horizon, cutting through the silver starlight. The atmosphere shifted entirely. An immense pressure bore down, causing many Elves to collapse in awe.
Oromë... the Hunter of the Valar, had arrived.
The colossal figure atop the steed 'Nahar' looked like a moving mountain. The radiance radiating from him wasn't just light; it was divine authority that shook the very souls of lesser beings.
Thousands of Elves gathered by Lake Cuiviénen bowed their heads. Some wept with joy; others trembled with fear. Finwë stepped forward, his eyes burning with determination, ready to lead.
"Son of Eru Ilúvatar!" Oromë's voice boomed, not through the air, but vibrating directly within our minds. "The time for decision has come! The West calls to you. The light of the Holy Trees awaits. Leave the darkness of Middle-earth behind and follow me!"
A roar of acceptance answered him. 'Ingwë' and 'Finwë' began organizing the people. Most of the Elves—the Eldar—were preparing to leave. I stood still. My hand, which had once held blueprints, now gripped a hardwood bow tightly. I took a step back, separating myself from the stream of people flowing toward Oromë.
"Theron!" Finwë turned back when he saw I wasn't moving. "Hurry! We must be at the front. I want you with me. You have the sharpest mind I know. We will build great things together there!"
I shook my head slowly, walking against the tide of the crowd to stand before Finwë and... Oromë, who was looking down at me.
"I cannot go with you, Finwë," I replied calmly.
Silence descended. Oromë raised an eyebrow. The gaze of the Vala was sharp enough to slice through a soul. "Do you refuse the invitation of the Valar, little Elf? Do you not know that the shadow of Melkor creeps ever closer? To stay here is death."
I took a deep breath, gathering the wisdom of a 21st-century human mixed with Elven pride. "I respect your goodwill, Lord Oromë... but I do not see this place as death. I see it as home."
"A home filled with beasts and darkness?" Oromë asked sternly.
"Darkness is not to be feared if we know how to create our own light," I retorted, staring into the god's burning eyes. "You would take us to a gilded cage to protect us. But safety given freely makes us weak... I choose to face the hardship so that I, and my people, can stand strong on our own legs."
Finwë looked at me in disbelief. "Theron, you've gone mad... No one refuses the Valar."
"I do not reject who they are, I only reject their path." I turned to Finwë, placing a hand on my dear friend's shoulder.
"Go, Finwë. Your path is glory amidst holy light. But my path... I will stay here. I will be the foundation, the shield, and the watchman. When the day comes that you return—and I know one day you must—you will find that this Middle-earth is not the wild, desolate place you left behind."
Oromë stared at me for a long time, as if trying to decipher the strange logic in my mind. He had likely never encountered an Elf with such complex and 'alien' thoughts.
"You have strange eyes..." Oromë murmured. "It is as if you see a time that has not yet come. You choose to be an 'Avari'—the Unwilling—then?"
"I prefer to call myself a Builder," I replied.
Oromë laughed softly, a sound like distant thunder. "Interesting... If you choose to face the storm alone, then prepare yourself. For the storm will surely come to find you, Theron."
He turned his horse, leading the procession of light-seeking Elves away. Dust swirled in the air. Finwë glanced back at me one last time—a look of reproach mixed with respect—before vanishing into the gloom.
I stood among the few remaining Elves—the Avari.
They looked frightened, hesitant, and confused at being left behind.
I turned to them. These Elves hadn't chosen to stay out of bravery like me; they feared the journey, or simply loved the woods, but they lacked a leader.
I walked up a rocky incline. Hundreds of Elven eyes fixed on me.
In their eyes, I saw fear.
But in my eyes... I saw 'labor' and 'human resources.'
"Listen to me!" I shouted, my voice projecting power without effort. "They left us because they think we are weak! They think we will die in the shadows!"
I raised my bow, then used an obsidian knife to slice my fingertip. Bright red blood dripped onto the earth.
"But this is our land! We were not born to flee and hide under anyone's wing. We were born to conquer! Tonight... we are not merely the Elves who were left behind. We are the beginning of an empire that will make even the gods turn to look!"
"We will not live in caves. We will not hide in holes... I will teach you to build walls that scrape the sky. I will teach you to forge steel stronger than dragon's claws. And I will teach you to turn this forest into a fortress!"
The look in their eyes began to change. Fear turned to curiosity, and curiosity turned to hope.
My engineering brain kicked into high gear. The blueprint for 'Neo-Cuiviénen' was being drawn in my mind.
Irrigation systems from the lake... mining operations for iron and mithril... applying Elven magic to generate clean energy... and a fortress ready to welcome the first 'Orc' that dared to trespass.
"My name is Theron... and I will be your King."