Copyright: Middle-Earth and all related topics are owned by the family of JRR Tolkien and whoever they allow to share the rights with. This an original story borrowing on these topics for a non-profitable purpose so...yeah, don't sue me.

"Ten...ten thousand years since the ships of your haven landed in the middle-lands."

Weary of a sudden chill, several denizens stood and watched as an enigma passed them by. A tall figure covered in a cloak made from the essence of night. Needless to say, he stood out amidst the bright setting he walked through. Of course he would, the very road he walked upon was made from a precious white silver, the grass encroaching upon this road was of a golden hue while far off, a great city could be seen that glowed with the shine of silver white. But the traveler did not care, nor should he. If any of the onlookers knew of what had become of their port...they would know why.

"And while you left those shores, content in your 'victory', the night has grown stronger..."

Five moderately armed soldiers placed themselves in the traveler's path. One spoke for the traveler to reveal himself and who he came here, but the traveler had neither time nor care to piece an answer. Unseeable to the naked eye, the traveler struck down two of the soldiers with a swiftly drawn blade before grabbing the third to crush his skull and then swiped through the necks of the last two. The Traveler sheathed his stainless blade and continued as the five guards slowly died amidst their cruel wounds.

"You were destined to protect this world and yet, it has fallen so easily within our grasp..."

Though he neither saw nor heard this, he knew and sensed that the many watchtowers watching the road from the harbor to Tirion would remain silent. His agents were silent and well-trained, they would not hesitate to slay the lax sentinels. Though they would not be dead for long, they were absent from intervening in the Intruder's intentions.

In one of these towers, a young elven woman silently observed the landscape of the Great realm of the West. She hated this place as soon as she had sighted its coasts and though it was but a profession, every kill she achieved here brought great joy to her heart. Seeing that her master was closing in on the destined city, the woman fastened on her helm and brought up her guantlet to fire an arrow from it. The arrow itself would move so fast that none but the chosen ones posted ahead of her would be able to see it and understand its meaning.

"While you...rested in your cradle of paradise...believing your people were safe..."

Approaching the gates of the chosen city, the Traveler did not cease when a few silent figures appeared alongside their leader. Nor did he care when several archers saw him on the walls and aimed. A song of heated metal and anguished death danced in the Intruder's ears as the archers were dealt with by one of this agents. Now free to enter, the traveler and his companions entered the open gateway of the Great City upon this hill and were immediately confronted by some of it's inhabitants: Elves of Valinor, already silently wondering who would dare to enter in such a way.

"Ignorant of the sun's waning luster...of your fading power..."

The Traveler did not feel inclined to reach for his blade but merely waited. Several more Tirion warriors drew their swords and joined the circle while faroff could be seen several archers with arrows already strung for attack. The traveler silently picked out any notables amongst the slowly growing circle and looked to his left-hand man.

At the left-hand of his master, the masked elf stared defiantly into the eyes of his "noble" brethren. They who had turned their backs upon middle-earth, upon the land they were born to live within and nurse with their gifts. But instead, they waged war upon war and took much from the land in their selfish desire and then fled to this deathless land, forgetting of the land that lay behind them. Though they were armed, the elf noted on who only a few within this circle had ever seen true combat. Unlike the elves of his homeland, where even the younglings have had their taste of the world. Within his mind, seconds dwindled down to the appointed time, the warrior knew that these arrogant deserters would soon feel that bitterness, He would assure that unto his last breath.

"For the power of the Night...nay! your pride...has blinded you..."

Amongst the circle stood Elrond Peredhil, who could not shake off a feeling of ill-foreboding as he and his fellow guardsmen approached upon the intruders. He knew not how he passed beyond the girdle, but his actions: forcing his way into Tirion by such actions of disgusting sorcery would not go unpunished. As Elrond drifted to stare upon the percieved chief of these intruders, he could not help but ask why no word of this company had come out from Avalone or Aqualonde, or any of the many watchtowers within the Calicirya.

It was in this moment that Elrond heard an increasingly loud sound that he had never heard. Like many others, they looked behind the intruders to see screaming monsters of enflamed steel fly through the Calicirya and before any could react, the elves were shaken off of their feet as the creatures struck the ground of the Blessed Realm. Most struck upon the fields, many struck the very hill itself while the rest struck within the very city itself. Standing up, Elrond saw that two of the objects had somehow skid up the hill and stopped on either side of the Intruder's leader. Plates of steel slid off of the object as Elrond looked inside and realized the horrible truth of these actions...

"Assuming no force would dare to challenge you...but now..."

Swords and lances were drawn as two figures armored in black armor wielding a great blade appeared from the opening in the creature's hides. One warrior hopped down while the other merely stood up as his numerous comrades readied themselves, with at least a fifth of their number carrying blades of heated doom. Thousands upon thousands of battle cries rang forth through land as the Intruder's cloak disintegrated. Beneath the cloak was armor as dark as the cloak, save only that it's wearer had no helm, but a deathly pale yet noble countenance crowned with twilit black hair and piercing eyes of silver blue. His plans unfolding, the intruder smiled and uncloaked his great might.

"Finally...Retribution...has come..."

The intruders swarmed forth without hesitation, hatred burned from their eyes as they clashed with the Blessed Defenders. Surprise, momentum, anticipation, and several other factors of warfare were well within their favor. Those outside the city had a simple task: Breech the already burdened defenses and enter the city. As for those already within, their task was simplier: destroy all that brings light and all who defend it. The Dark Warrior did not hurry to his army's aid, already the two companies that had landed behind him were already pressing through the ruined gateway while his captains and lieutenants had already dispersed into the city to accomplish their objectives.

Bringing another arrow forth, Legolas of the Greenleaf House aimed and fired to fell another foe while the battle raged on the streets beneath him. He and his company had been given little warning as the enemy came forth to slay all they saw and bring ruin to anything they could touch. Eversince, his bow has sung throughout the conflict. The once-prince of Northern Ithilien marked that he had felled 67 by his bow and 43 by his knives, yet they were but pebbles against a mighty wave.

Elrond pushed against the shield of an enemy foe and sliced across shields top to slash open the head of his foe. While shaken by the revelation that the assailants were descendants of the Avari, elves who had forsaken the western journey, Elrond did not hesitate to cut off the arm of a careless attacker and brought Hadhadfang down through the foe's neck. Seeing that his company was being overwhelmed by the strangly armed attackers, Elrond called for them to head through the gateway and hopefully close the gates to the invaders still outside. As he retreated, the crowded nature of the battle prevented Elrond from dodging a sudden kick that forced him to the ground. He swerved left to dodge a heavy chop and Hadhadfang sung as it clove through the attacker's body.

Tuor leapt behind a post as several other elves were felled by arrows of fire that an enemy captain fired from their gauntlets. Staying low, Tuor brought out a small hunting axe and with a quick glance, he threw the axe into the captain's arm. It hit the shoulder and stunned them enough for Tuor to run over and strike with the sword of Nevrast which he found long ago. As soon as this was done, he ducked beneath another bolt of fire and leapt down from the post into the chaotic fray that spread through the city. Seeing a child about to be slain like her mother, Tuor blocked the murderer's blade with his own to find that his hands grew hot amidst the clash. Calling upon the strength of his forefathers of old, Tuor steadily overpowered the warrior and dealt such a blow that the murderer's body was thrown through a burning shrine.

"Your blades were blunted"

A Ball of lightning came into being and flew through the air before it died, taking with it many warriors of Tirion as the electric sparks caused the very armor they wore to betray them. Its castor was little bothered by the increasing chaos around him, he continued on his path, striking down any who dared to stop him. He looked with impression as a tower collapsed into several buildings, an obvious result of the battle. Two yellow haired elves spotted the Warrior and ran with spears ready. With a swipe of the hand, the warrior used an unseen force to pick up and throw one of the warriors into a nearby building.

The Dark Captain swiped out his sword to slash the other guard's arm off at the shoulder, he readied his blade to finish the warrior, but spun back to avoid the strike of a stronger fighter. Feeling the power from this warrior of noble cloth, the captain leapt and landed on a bridge above him. The Elf Lord followed suit and wasted no time in striking down the two assailants that the Captain sent forth and jumped over the blade that the Captain had thrown. Smirking the Captain motioned with this fingers and the blade turned red before disappeering in a bloom of fire. The Elf Lord as thrown to the pavement, surprised by this tactic but the Captain did not care, he moved in end the Lord as he had many other things to do.

"Your strength was...crippled..."

Ingwe rose from the pavement and jumped over the Dark Warrior's strike and impacted his blade upon the warrior's pauldron. He leapt back when he saw that the pauldron was well-made, though cloven, it protected it's master. Still the High-King had to defend his people, he unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the Warrior as the battle around them intensified. Light shined from Tinugel, blade of the High-King as Ingwe sensed the flow of the duel fall into his favor. Seeing an opening, Ingwe slamed the pummel of his blade into the Warrior's and spun around a blind strike to make his final blow. Steel piercing flesh filled the air as the duel reached it's end.

"Your hearts...were decieved..."

The light of a fallen Tinugel left it's blade as Ingwe's light faded, a great blade of darkness now embedded through his chest. Cold despair filled the High-King as he looked into the eyes of his murderer as Finwe had looked into the eyes of Melkor long ago. The Murderer was neither sad nor glad of the deed, but cruelly indifferent, as though this was but a feint for him to achieve.

"And now your beloved Tirion...shall fall!"

Ingwe hardly felt the dark blade leave his chest, for his heart died as he fell to his knees. Unable to move, the High King of the Elves could only watch as fire consumed Mindon Eldalieva and the light of its lamp faded as it fell into the ravaged streets below. Cries of anguish and bitter sadness deafened his ears as the eldest of kings breathed his last and abandoned his body. The Dark Judge did not bother to wipe the blood from his blade, for there was much to be done. He smiled as he knelt down and wenched King's ring from his cold finger and standing up, he held the bloodied band for a moment before placing it on his own finger. He nodded and crossed the bridge as it collapsed beneath his would-be pursuers...

The horrific battle, known by some as the Battle of Sudden Darkness (Dagor Morgollach) and others as the Fourth Kinslaying, would be forever etched into the memory of the Blessed Realm. For twenty years the conflict lasted, but the power of the Valar overcame the trespassers and few ever returned to the mortal shores while those who had been slain were judged within the halls of Mandos, never to find rest until the Last War.

But with this victory came many woes for though none were lastingly hurt, much damage had been dealt upon the Land. Trees were burned or poisoned, rivers and streams, murked with the blood of the fallen, much was ruined that can never be fully restored. And the Valar were eluded as to why Eru would not intervene. But amongst the fallen were Ingwe and his family and in his sadness, he refused to leave the halls of Mandos and take up the Kingship of his people. From these hurts, something fumed within the hearts of the Aradar (high-elves), it stirred most strongly amongst the Noldor, but its signs were seen within many circles of the Vanyar, the Teleri, and those who dwelt in Avalone.

The wise have said many things concerning this stirring: to some, it was desire to avenge the griefs wrought upon Valinor where no evil should touch; perhaps it was anger at percieved deception, that a promise, though unspoken, had been broken; a rekindling of a forgotten love for the lands they left behind, lands that now dwelt under a shadow that the Aradar could no longer flee from; or that the seeds of Melkor the Morgoth had finally been nourished and from this fruit, a silent distaste for the lands they had been told were deathless.

Whatever the cause, a laboring began that had not been seen since before the War of Wrath. In this labor: many weapons, shields, and tools of war were made ready and in this labor did many of all elven kindreds have part along with several of the Maiar of Aule, Orome, Tulkas, and Varda for all forsaw a declaration from Manwe and some guessed that perhaps the King of Arda would declare war upon the Crown of Night. During this Labor, the Valar themselves with the greatest of the Maiar and wisest of the Aradar held a great council to decide their action. None denied that this attack was a declaration of war upon Aman, but as none could decide on their response.

For the Valar could not directly intervene in the affairs of Middle-Earth unless granted permission by the One, which had been withheld and even the Maiar could only do so much against such a power without falling as Sauron, Curumo, and too many others had. Therefore, it was decided that the elves themselves would be the only ones able to go forth and aid the free peoples of Middle-Earth once more. But as the Valar agreed upon their decree, Mandos stood amongst them and spoke.

What he uttered is unwritten here, but long did his peers ponder his words. Finally, the Valar gave their blessing to the desire of the Aradar for they had no power to withhold them there. Freely did the elves come to Valinor and freely they may depart and this has remained unchanged for all the ages of the world.

But...a great price was laid upon those determined to leave the Blessed Shores...their coming to the Mortal Shores would mean the breaking of the Straight Road. Never again would they and they of their kin who remained in Middle-Earth be able to flee from that world but they would now have to either live as one with it, or live forever in everlasting denial, unable to accept the bitterness of their gifts. Though some starved the fire of their heart, most others choose this path, some unaware of what this fully meant.

So it was, that Seven Fleets of twelve great ships set forth from the Blessed Realm, taking with them much that they would not leave behind in the Blessed Realm. After many years and facing the wrath of a sea that remembered them not, the Aradar of Valinor landed their ships and returned to Middle-Earth in the year 2791 of the Fourth Age. There, they humbled themselves and took Gilead Galadrion, son of Elenion Gilmacar and grandson of Ereinion Gil-Galad as their High-King. By their aid, what remained of middle-earth's people free from the Shadow of an endless night were strengthened and in time stood against the Dark Power.

But of that war and it's outcome...that is not recorded here...for Valinor is shut off and never can we return...

Song of the Swan

Authors Notes: Before you say it, yes this was heavily influenced by the Old Republic Trailer: Decieved. Still, all and all, I like how the concept of an assault on Valinor would work out. If anyone wanted to attack, it would have to an assault of sheer utmost surprise...which is pretty much impossible if you've read the books. But seeing as that this attack takes place during the Fourth Age and Tolkien left this as a clean slate...speculation became my best friend.

The guy leading the assualt is not an elf, but I'll leave his identity blank for the time-being, as for his army...lets just say Middle-Earth is under a new High-King and...he's not friendly.

As much as people love Tuor, Elrond, and Legolas, I really don't know if the latter two would be able to participate at all since technically their supposed to be in Avallone, but again...speculation is my best friend.

As for why anyone would even attempt such an attack is beyond me since, as I noted earlier, anyone who attacks Valinor is bound to lose assuming they set foot (see Ar-Pharazon for reference) because of the nature of the land. If someone is killed, they'll go to the Halls of Mandos, reincarnate and return to fight the next...wash, rinse, dry and repeat as much as necessary.

Any comments or Reviews would be appreciated since I myself can notice some things that I could improve...and a sequel...maybe...not a bad ideal at all.

Also, the title is open for change. I'm looking for something along the lines of sadness, regret, or grief, any input would help a lot.