Through My Eyes
I am Lothannon, son of Solaryis, archer in the elvin armies. The days go on slowly as we march southward, toward Mordor. The armies of Men have joined us, therefore creating the Last Alliance. Where this will lead us, I do not know. Now, as I sit here, waiting for and eternity, I will wonder on the events of the past.
Years ago - I seem to have forgotten the year, but that is not important now - when Middle-Earth was still prosperous and beautiful, the Dark Lord Sauron created a ring. A ring so powerful that it could control all of the toher magical rings, even those of the Elven Lords, which he did not create. With this new power, Sauron became invincible, and he gathered all evil to him in the deep dark of Mordor. The flames of Mount Doom blasted brimstone and dust into the sky, turning it red with evil. Sauron's forces swept over Middle-Earth, taking all for his own. Now, in a last stand against him, a Last Alliance of Men and Elves march to Mordor.
We can all see the dark black that is Mordor. Clouds cover the sun and fire scorches the sky. The air is thick with poison and we continue this march. It has been said that we will reach the borders of Mordor by sundown in two days, and I do not welcome this thought. Many of us would like to be at home, safe and happy, but that is not where we are needed. It is not where our duties lie. So, with Gil-Galad to lead us, and Elendil to walk at his side, we will march forward and fight to the death. If need be, we all know that we would all give our lives to keep the free-peoples just that, free.
****
The air is poison. It is dark, riddled with ash and chemichals horrid to the scent and to the taste. It lingers in the back of my throat like a bad omen. We have passed over the Emyn Muil, and the slopes of Mount Doom are reachable. The battle will take place very soon, and all I can do is hope that we are truly ready for the battle ahead.
The clear ringing of silver trumpets call for the march. The Horns of Gondor have been something to get used to, but we are ready. I take up my bow at this moment and ready myself for battle, joining my fellow Elves as we march to Mount Doom. It is there that we shall see either the end, or the begining.
****
Orcs cover the slopes before us in huge numbers - An endless sea of evil, foul creatures. They hiss and scream peircingly, a challenge that will not go unheeded. I bring my bow up and notch an arrow as the voice of Lord Elrond calls to make ready. We wait, silence seemingly suffocating us. Then he yells, and our arrows are loosed. The Orcs have charged, and the men in the front lines wait patiently for them to come. I loose another arrow as the Orcs, Elves and men clash. The battle has begun.
I lost sight of many shortly after that first wave of the enemy, and now I fight with sword, bow forgotten, against Orcs that seem to appear out of thin air. I do not remember how long I have fought for, but I know it is a long time. The light is begining to fade, and many of my comerades lay dead, or near it. Gil-Galad and Elrond are lost to my vision, as are Elendil and Isildur, but I do not worry over this, for they are better fighters that I will ever be.
Suddenly the fighting stops, and I back up a few steps as Sauron steps forward, towering over all and glaring down at us with hate. The Ring glows like fire on his finger, and he brings his arm up. Men, Elves and Orcs alike are crushed and fly through the air at the impact of his mace. Dozens of the Alliance and of the enemy have been felled now, and I can see Elendil. The King of Gondor is scared, yet brave, frightened yet strong. He rushes forward, and Sauron's mace comes down on that great Man. Elendil is thrown through the air and lands, unmoving on the ground some yards away. I know he is dead, none could survive that. It is now that the fighting conitnues, and my attention is pulled away from the scene as Isildur runs to his father's side. All hope is lost, we have failed, but yet we fight on. I do not understand the meaning of what has happened, or what will happen, but I am going to fight on, konwing that I fought for the right cause.
I am unarmed now, moments later, and stabbed through by and Orcish blade.
But I do not fall as I look up. Isildur has cut the ring from Sauron's
finger, or rather, his finger from his hand. Sauron is destroyed, and all
are knocked from their feet by the blast. I do not know what happened after
that, for I landed on an upturned spear, and the fire that now runs
through me is fire.
I bleed here, and the call is sounded, Gil-Galad has fallen, and Sauron
has been destoryed. So we have succeded after all, I smile, as if watching
myself do so. The battle feild is covered in the black blood of the enemy,
and the red blood of Humans and Elves alike. The sky is scorched still,
and thousands lay dead around me, and I will soon join them. I can see
Elrond rush up to Isildur ans speak as my vision blurs. The blackness
that should claim me has become and evil red, and black spots dance before
my eyes. If this is dying, oh how I wish it to be over. I will never see
the undying lands - I will be one of the Elves to really, truly die. I
wonder what the Afterlife is truly like, and will I find peace there? I
do not know these answers, for I do not wish to ponder on them. My vision
has gone, and my breath leaves my lungs, and then, I feel no more.
~Finis~