In a valley of Beleriand lost to the count of time, sheltered by the Mountains of Mithrim, a village of Men lived quiet and minute lives. The Men who dwelled there were of the Drúdain, who were known among Men as the first of the houses to leave their brethren from the ground in which the Men awoke with the rising of the Sun. Shadowed by the great and terrible mountains, the Drúdian too were shadowed from their beginning, the first to abandon the place of awakening. The Men of the Drúedain lusted for the vast, untouched land of Middle- Earth and thus were Doomed forever to wander, filled with a great desire to walk unhindered and free. Yet, the first of Men to embark upon the great journey to the west have little place in the histories of Men, save few.
For Sador, son of the Drúedain, was known as bold, brave, and able among the meek peoples of his village at the base of the cold Mountains. Though Sador was yet in his youth, he stood loftier than the full grown Men of his people. The Drúdian are little recalled for their loveliness and beauty, yet Sador was regarded highly for a peculiar light in his eyes, reminiscent of the wiser and more knowledgeable creatures upon Arda. His Doom, he boasted, was high among Men and Elves alike. He imagined a fate of everlasting glory and summer, confirmed by all those who admired his stature and excellence. Though Sador had never been asked by Fate to test his skills as a warrior, the youth had grown proud and boasted much of his physical ability and cunning in battle.
And so Sador, son of the Drúedain, was one night troubled by his dreams. With the crossing of the Moon through a blackened sky, a dark premonition traveled slow and sickening across his mind. The youth saw in his Doom a great and devastating event in which he feared would be his demise. Thus Sador bore great fear upon seeing in his vision a deep pain upon his right and a dull, lifeless blade stained crimson with his own blood. He spied a shrouded figure among the many trees surrounding himself and awoke suddenly when the figure extended a hand to Sador’s face.
Aghast, Sador dwelt upon a great fear that he had become one of the accursed who had perceived the song of their Doom ere the notes had begun to be sung. For all knew it was a great tragedy to know one’s fate, for no Man, Elf, nor Dwarf may change the path of time or the plans of Ilúvatar. Yet the young Sador, who was not as wise as he would grow to be, determined that he could use his boldness to hide himself from the suffering he saw in his vision and swore to himself that he would never allow himself to be wounded in battle. To this end the youth sought to avoid the risk of warfare in its essence.
Yet, time stops for none of the Children of Ilúvatar. Fate marches onward and thus Sador, son of the Drúdain, soon found himself marching with the strongest sons of his village to answer the summons of Fingolfin, the High King of Noldor. The Wars of Beleriand had begun and the ranks of the Noldor sought out the unbroached pools of Men that had not yet lent their arms to the fight against Morgoth’s dark creatures. Despite the protests of the youth and a great deal of feigned illness, Sador found himself dwelling upon his inevitable demise as he crossed long, dark miles soured by the cruel winds of winter.
Yet even when the meekest among Men are called upon to defend the defenseless and guard their own, the meek rise and the weak stand gallanty. The journey heightened the spirits of many around Sador, as the youths bristled with the excitement of hidden danger. In the warm, early days of the journey Sador was among them in both nerves and lust to prove himself as brave and bold. As the Moon had passed over through the darkened sky, Sador’s vision had passed through his head, leaving but a trace of doubt clouding his mind’s eye. The many and furious battles among the land had spread throughout the people, infecting the most susceptible to grand displays of heroism and bravery. In this way, Sador was swept into the tide of battle, eager to show his peers the truth in his boasts. But on the cold, wet nights of unending rain and scarcity among supplies, Sador became doubtful and frightened. His bright eyes dimmed by panic, he darted from each crested hill to another hoping to never glimpse the blade that would strike him down.
And in this way he and his companions travelled many leagues to find their cause in battle weakened by the despairing sight of Hador Goldenhead and many among the greatest Noldor slain. The battle, which was remembered as the Battle of Sudden Flame, was a great and terrible loss among the Men and the Noldor; for many a great warrior lost their life to the grief and anguish of Morgoth's evil. While the others wept and mourned for the great cruelty of a battle bitterly fought until a pitiful conclusion, Sador silently celebrated his luck and once again promised himself never to become wounded in battle. For the misguided youth again submitted to his cowardice and pride. Whilst his Doom stirred and roiled about him, he bore the bier of Hador, giving little thought to the greatness and boldness of the man whom his labors honored. Alas, the youth’s celebrations were short lived as soon the marching ended and the band of youths, saddened by the loss of Hador, were called upon to be stationed at Eithel Sirion and join the ranks defending Barad Eithel from the ranks of Morgoth’s woes.
Upon arriving within the mountainside fortress, the ranks of Men and Elves astounded Sador and the others from his village. Never before had they beheld such a great many warriors preparing for battle, nor had they themselves ever truly trained as soldiers. As the anticipation of battle swelled among the ranks, a seed of fear began to sprout within Sador’s heart. His lust for battle and desire to prove himself in earnest vied for dominance with his growing panic and doubt. For one night, looking up at the stars whilst resting among the great many, Sador began to shake furiously as he recalled the vision of his demise. In the glimmer of the stars and the chill of the night, he saw the polished, cold edge of an axe; fated by his Doom to be his end. In his fear, Sador remembered his oath. Feeling deeply alone and fearful, Sador affirmed his promise, whispering “Hear now the path of my sorrowful Doom, I swear that I will run to the ends of the land away from the dark vision of my Fate. For I will never fall, nor be mortally wounded in the battle I have been so cruelly chased into.” He then drifted off into slumber with his words echoing in the confines of his mind.
The ranks of Morgoth had encroached silently under the guise of darkness and the battle seemed soon to begin. Yet, whilst camping upon the mountain path to the fortress, the band of warriors were advised to halt their attack, for Húrin wisely anticipated the plans of their foes. As the days of stagnation continued, Sador plotted how best to depart from the ranks silently, leaving not a trace of himself. Yet, his presence in the band of Men from his village was known, and his presence as one of a large army was known as well, for Húrin had taken on great leadership in unifying the great many Men and Noldor who were gathered in the lofty halls of Barad Eithel. In this way, the youth found great difficulty in slipping off. Yet Sador, ever clever and light of foot, would often thieve bread and supplies whilst the others slumbered. In these moments, Sador cursed himself for his dishonorable actions, yet remembered his oath and the terror of his vision and proceed with his plans to defect from his fate.
On the fateful midsummer day chosen for the attack, at last the time had come for the ranks of Fingon to charge. The battle cry swelled, as did the music of courage and boldness. As the charge moved onward, Sador considered the choice before him: to remain with his brethren and fight against evil or to flee, guarding himself from a bitter demise. For a scarce moment, the youth was swept into the wave of courage and valiance and it appeared that he may, at long last, overcome his fear. Yet, the power of Doom greater than any Man’s will, and as he looked out upon the wave of charging Men, the youth caught the sheen of the sun’s rays glinting off of Húrin’s battle ax. In ill-fate he recalled his vision and his heart leapt within his chest. The youth turned his back upon the forward charge and fled to the West. It is said that in the light and cacophony of the clashes, only one standing from afar could see the young Sador flying down the mountain and disappearing into the darkness of the shadowed mountainside. As Fate would have it, Sador believed himself to be running from his own fate. Yet in this instant he was also spiriting himself to his Doom.
In the time that passed following Sador’s betrayal, the youth spent many a night alone, searching for his village shaded by the Mountains of Mithrim. The summer was bitter and biting to Sador, though he was jubilant, mistakenly, for he believed he had hidden himself from fate itself. His joy in escaping the battle was yet unshaded by the dark knowledge of the battle. For the battle was then known amongst the Noldor as the Nirnaeth Arnoediad: the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. In this way the youth joined his village, perceiving a path out of the darkness of the woods and back into the daylight. Yet at his emergence as the sole villager to return from the war to the East, Sador was shunned from his family and people. For there was no refuge found for those who turn their backs upon their comrades in arms. Burdened by his guilt and shadowed by his exile, the youth departed from his home and took shelter in a band of silent, lonesome woodsmen who spoke as quietly as the wind in the trees and stood as solidly as the great oaks reaching towards the stars. The vastness of Sador’ shame was so, that even among a clan of outlaws, exiled, and unwanted Men, Sador had no peer in his betrayal. So shunned was Sador among the woodsmen that his presence was left unacknowledged and his calls were left unanswered.
In this band, Sador lost himself and became a man of little account. His proud stature curved and bent under the strain of isolation and his hands became calloused with many hours laboring under the many branches. The life of Sador had become grim, yet the youth persisted in his exile, for he believed that though he was known to have little honor among Men, he had escaped with his life and had his lust for battle satiated. Because the ill-fated Sador believed his vision was that of battle, he did not fear the axes of the tall woodsmen as he spent many day listening to the rhythm of blades against wood.
And it was on one chilled and misted day that in a small clearing lit dimly by filtered sunlight and sharp shadows across the forest floor, in which Sador’s axe slipped from his grasp and fell. His tragic Doom was then played in whole, not in battle as he had assumed, but by his own hand. The sight of his severed foot filled Sador with disgust and horror as he pleaded for mercy. His screams of pain and anguish were met only by silence from the Men labouring near as they turned to leave Sador to struggle alone, abandoned as he had abandoned his brothers in arms.
Alone, the youth implored an empty and silent forest for aid, yet there was none to be found. There he laid for many an hour, first crying in immense pain and later simply pondering, numbly, his ignorance. The sunlight faded with Sador’s pain and the youth realized that he had little hope of returning to his dwelling before nightfall. As Sador closed his eyes to surrender himself to the dark creatures lurking in the shadows of night, he heard the sharp crack of a fallen branch breaking underfoot. Peering through the fog, Sador saw a figure approaching him.
“Sador, do you not know that a man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it?” The figure whispered, stooping low to wipe the tears from the youth’s sickly face. For it was none other than Húrin,wandering the woods neighboring his home, that had found Sador’s crippled body. It was then known in Sador’s story, to the few who ever heard of it, that the owner of the axe that Sador had feared above all else became the sole Man who showed the forsaken youth kindness. In the time after, Sador lived and served Húrin and his house as a modest servant, quietly seeking the wisdom found in living a life of little account.