A/N This is a re-write of my story Ecthelion and Glorfindel's Last Stand. I was unhappy with my first copy, and so I rewrote it. I hope you enjoy this one. Thank-you horseyyay for having confidence in me when I didn't. Also thank-you to helenamarkos for the new title.

As I did not want to rewrite what Tolkien had completely, I wrote it from my perspective so that may mean that the way some of the events took place in my story may not entirely line up with how it initially happened in the book.


It was the day before Tarnin Austa, and the sun had set behind the hills. The people of Gondolin were standing on the eastern wall waiting eagerly for dawn to arrive for it was custom to hold a silent vigil from midnight until dawn, and then the whole of Gondolin would break out in music to welcome the new season of Summer. But while the night was still upon them, the elves of the Hidden Valley saw in the horizon a light they had never seen before. It was just a glow off in the north, and the people wondered at what it could be. Slowly it grew, and the people began to doubt as it became redder, this was no ordinary light, and their fears were confirmed as several scouts who kept watch over the peaks came riding in exclaiming the enemies of Morgoth found them.

As soon as they heard the news, the streets of Gondolin erupted into chaos as it filled with the screams and cries of several women and children. Some of the women and children hid while others tried to find some means of escape for they knew if Morgoth had discovered them, then it would only be a matter of time before they broke through and either killed them or captured them to use for their pleasure.

While the ellith were busy leading their offspring away, the ellyn were busy scrambling to take up arms. Even as they were grabbing their weapons and the Captains of each House were busy yelling out commands they could feel the ground beginning to shake under them and hear the unmistakable sound of their enemies' war cry. Time was of the essence, and they were quickly running out of it.

When all the Houses were in their positions – some were at the front ready to fend off the enemies' while others were arrayed elsewhere – they heard the bashing of a battering ram against the stone walls as the others tried to breach the gates. Several of Turgon's archers lined the upper walls and began to fire torrents of arrows at the enemy below, but they just kept advancing. However, soon the North Gate had been broken through, and soon the streets were filled with the onslaught of orcs.

Several of the Houses of Gondolin tried in vain to hold off the enemy but it was no use, they were too few, and the enemy soon broke through their defenses. Everywhere women, children and even men were being cut down as if they were flies. For every orc or other fell beast killed it seemed as if though fifty Gondolindrim were killed. The elves tried to keep as many of Morgoth's army at bay so as to seek to give the unarmed citizens time to evacuate but soon it was impossible to do so, and they had to fall back themselves.

Meanwhile, at the western walls, the Lord of the Fountain – the mighty Ecthelion – and Tuor were trying desperately to keep their mind on the battle at hand. For it was here that Morgoth's dragons had broken through, but they had refused to back down. Ecthelion had no idea how long he and his troops had been fighting, trying in vain to keep the forces of Morgoth at bay. All around him chaos, mayhem, death and destruction were around. Elves were fleeing the once hidden city of Gondolin as the forces of Morgoth relentlessly attacked. Homes, trees, and buildings burned and all around him bodies of both elves, orcs and other fell creatures alike lay dead. If Ecthelion lived through this, he knew the scene around him would forever be etched in his memory.

Ecthelion knew he needed to get his troops out for this was a battle he could not hope to win, at least not here. "Fall back! We must retreat and regroup ourselves!" Ecthelion yelled as he threw down another orc. His House upon hearing their captain giving the order to retreat began to flee cutting down orcs, wolves and other fell creatures along the way. Ecthelion himself had already cut down two Balrogs – powerful fire demons who had once been fair Maiar but were seduced by Morgoth.

Almost home free, Ecthelion continued slashing his way through. Every so often he would find a lone elf hiding in terror and help them to escape, but in doing so, he could feel himself lose stamina. He didn't know how much longer he could continue at this grueling pace; he had to get to the Fountain of the King, for the water that ran in there could replenish the strength of anyone who drank from it.

But before he was able to reach the passageway which would lead him to it another Balrog reared its ugly head and began to assault him. Both elf and beast fought, steel upon steel, fury against fury. Every passing second Ecthelion was becoming weaker, but he refused to go down. How he managed to find the strength to continue he knew not, but continue he did. Eventually, he was able to defeat the mighty Balrog with a quick blow with his sword, but in doing so, he too had received a mighty wound to his left arm by its fiery whip.

Ecthelion bit back a cry as he felt the hot whip slice open his arm. Wrapping his arm, he rose to his feet and continued to fight, knowing deep down he would probably not live to see another day, but that no longer mattered anymore, the only thing which mattered was to make sure that as many elves escaped as possible, even if it cost him his life. On he kept fighting trying desperately to reach the Square of the King, but the creatures just kept coming, like an endless sea. Just as he got done defeating several orcs, a new wave began to assail him. Ecthelion knew he would not be able to hold out. The rest of his House were busy fighting their battle, and so they were unable to reach him. He was just about to admit defeat when he heard a war cry heading his way: it was Tuor!

With fire in his eyes that would scare even the mightiest of Morgoth's servants, Tuor began to single-handedly strike down adversaries sending most of them fleeing in a hasty retreat. When he got to Ecthelion, he found he was severely weakened and injured. "My friend, are you able to stand? We must retreat now, Gondolin is lost. The vast majority are dead; the rest are fleeing with Idril to the secret tunnel," Tuor said bending down and helping his friend up supporting him.

"Aye, I can stand, but I cannot fight anymore, I am too weak. Perhaps if I can get to the Fountain, and drink of its waters, I can regain most of my strength."

Tuor nodded and helped Ecthelion make his way to the Fountain while motioning for the rest of Ecthelion's men to follow, for there the remaining leaders were waiting.

When they arrived, they were greeted by the surviving leaders and Tuor, and Glorfindel helped their injured comrade to the Fountain's edge. Ecthelion proceeded to drink from the Fountain feeling the cold, refreshing water slide down his parched throat and flow through his veins. Strengthening him almost instantly, allowing him to fight once again.

After resting for a few minutes, Tuor, Glorfindel, and the remaining leaders were discussing what they should now do for most of them knew Gondolin was now lost forever, and by remaining here, they were just fighting a losing battle. Some of them, however, were not ready to admit defeat and thought it was worth staying to try and take back their kingdom. As they were busy arguing they were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and the thunderous flapping of dragons. They knew they had run out of time and had to make a decision. They now had only two choices: they either stayed and fought – which would lead them to their deaths – or they fled with the rest of the survivors and made their way towards Idril's secret tunnel and then make their way out of Gondolin.

As the encroaching enemies made their way closer, Ecthelion turned and gave the order for them to retreat. As they began to retreat, they noticed Ecthelion was not following. "Ecthelion, let us leave, it is folly to remain!" Tuor exclaimed when he saw his friend was not following.

Ecthelion waved his hands and told him to flee that it was pointless for all of them to die. Tuor was getting ready to protest but was caught off guard by the terrible roar and the thrashing of a whip. As Ecthelion turned around, he was met with the terrifying presence of the most feared Balrog of all: Gothmog.