The Last Alliance: From the Eyes of Elrond and Isildur
by Lucie Roberts(pen name: felegund)
This fic is one I actually wrote several years ago, but I found it again and revamped it. Enjoy!
Dedicated to Isildur, who is somewhat vilified bythe world ofTolkien fans.
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The wounded were spread out across the battle field, and in that hour many Men, Elves, and Dwarves had fallen. Able bodied soldiers were busy trying to get their wounded friends to a place where the could be healed.
"He's hurt badly my lord." A young soldier told Elrond, half dragging the body of a young, dark Numenorean boy.
"There are many to heal, he must wait his turn." Elrond replied, busy trying to clog the blood from an open artery of Gil-Galad's warrior's.
"But, will he-"
"I said wait!"
The young man looked down at his wounded friend.
Elrond sighed. "Here, hold this." He told the young man, referring to a gauze clogging the open artery.
The soldier put his friend on the ground and did as he was told.
Elrond took a look at the Numenorean. "Did you see what happened to him?"
"Uh, no, um-"
"Its just a concussion. He will be alright." Elrond told him after lifting up his patients eyelids.
"Oh, thank the Valar!" The young soldier said. "I thought that-"
"Give it here." Elrond said, turning back to the elf soldier, continuing the operation. He then must tend to the other injured.
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Isildur was helping to carry wounded to the medic's.
"There are so many." An old officer said in awe at all the bodies.
"Get those who may yet live and bring them to the healers." Isildur commanded the man.
"Yes sir."
There are a lot of them. So many men, elves, and even dwarves! They all die together.
Isildur found an elf whose torso was punctured by several arrows. Isildur put his face to the elf's chest. He was still breathing and some stretchers were called over. One man he found was gasping and lurching for air; apparently his lungs had been effected by some sort of orkish poison. Isildur put him to rest with a stab of his sword. It would be better than the suffering that he would go through with the healers, and to no avail. Many cases were like this. After so many years of this siege one could always tell which cases were hopeless. Some of the soldiers could be saved though. They were brought to Elrond and the other doctors.
"Sir, what about this boy." A man said holding a young soldier who could not be more than sixteen years old.
"He's gone."
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Later that night, the armies were greeted by a new shipment of ale and other goods that were hard to come by. This happened occasionally, though the last time was over a month ago.
"To the fallen." Elendil said, raising his goblet.
The few officers in the room followed suit, along with the high king Gil Galad and the shipwright Cirdan.
"One more rest before tomorrow's offensive. May we use it well." Gil Galad said.
Everyone drank.
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Elrond and Gil Galad were alone in the king's tent.
"How many were lost today." Gil Galad asked him.
"Seventy two and one hundred... Sixty of which were elves. Cirdan's people suffered greatly"
"Is it true a hundred men were killed in The ork's onslaught?"
"I believe so." Elrond replied.
Gil Galad sighed. "The race of the elves has always found it an extraordinary thing, how the Edain, with lives so short, will fight and die among the immortal." Gil Galad sat down in his chair and looked up at Elrond. "To think that even after the days of Morgoth there would still be wars like this."
Elrond looked into the kings eyes. "Tomorrow something is happening. The wind changes."
Gil Galad nodded his head.
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"Elrond, do you ever wonder why you are living today? During this time? Fighting this fight?" Isildur asked Elrond, sitting under the cloudy night sky.
"I'm an elf. I'm supposed to live in every time."
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
Elrond didn't answer. It was silent in the camp, the troops having a hard-earned rest. Elrond was still thinking about the worry in the king's eyes.
" Don't you ever wonder: 'why can't I be living in a time of peace, in a place of beauty.'" Isildur said, starring off into the empty land. How much death had occurred there just that day.
"Yes." Elrond answered.
"I guess, heroes...and legends aren't made in times of peace." Isildur smiled.
That's a rare sight lately. Isildur smiling, Elrond thought.
"Yes, but who wants to be a hero." Elrond said.
Isildur laughed. "I agree."
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The sun rose red the next morning. The men awoke by themselves, with no trumpet call from the enemy. Some of the elf soldiers could hear the sound of the opposing army coming. Orodruin splurted lava red like blood.
'It's just the same,' Isildur thought, 'as any other morning of the past seven years, except..."
"My Lord," Isildur said to his father. " What is this stillness that hangs on the air? Is the enemy coming, or are they holding back longer?"
"No. They are marching. Gil Galad's army and some of our farther sighted soldiers can see movement across the plain. The orks are marching. With men, birds, beasts, and other evil creatures."
"Elves are the only race here to be united as one, under the starry banner of Gil Galad."
"Yes, it seems so."
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"Form your lines!" Gil Galad shouted, "Spearmen forward! Archers behind!"
The enemy was charging less than half a league away. 'It doesn't look like there are many more orks than those that survived yesterday's battle,' Elrond thought to himself.
"Today we take the strait road! Fight our way through to the very heart of the enemy itself! May our swords and spears and axes shine red as the sun!" Gil Galad's voice rang out over the army.
Elendil stood at the kings side. "May we all fight as one! Elves, men and dwarves! The brave people of many houses shall die today, but our sacrifice will live on in the lives of children to come! We will not forsake our families! Our friends! Or our Middle Earth!" Elendil shouted. Standing tall next to the elven king.
The two lords stood together and drew their weapons. Though the land of shadow was dark and full of smoke, a light shone on them in their splendid array. Aeglos, the great spear of Gil Galad, shone like a great shard of ice. Narsil looked to be a streak of lightening as it was drawn from the sheath of Elendil. Two such weapons have rarely been seen together in the great battles of the ages, and none so valiant after. The two kings stood together as tall and proud as the hero's of old.
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A strait path they made, through the enemy lines. They fought with the wrath of their fallen friends, fallen brothers, fallen fathers, and fallen sons.
Elrond fought alongside his brother's people. As he battled the enemy thought about the choices of his family. His mother and father who were beyond reach since he was young. The Feanorean's that fostered him, gone with others of the Eldar days. Most of all he thought of Elros, his brother, who had followed the mortal race of their father. He had seen Elros's features diminish as his became more fair. he had seen his brother die in a bed, of no wound or grief. He wondered why, and where his spirit had gone. He also wondered whether he, himself, made the right choice.
Isildur fought for his people: all the innocent Numenorean's who had died because of the devices of Sauron, and all the young women and children that could not escape Numenor's fall. He thought of his wife whom he missed, and of his sons who were also in the war. He thought of his brother, Anarion, who had fallen a year earlier. He remembered growing up with his brother, and past times in Numenor with him. Anarion, whose sons had lost a father. He would fight for him most of all. He missed his brother more than any one could understand. 'None of these elves understand death as a human does,' he thought. He'd fight for his brother. He'd avenge him in the end.
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The battle wore on, and there were sign's of victory for the alliance. The path they made was strong and swift and the enemy couldn't hold them back.
"This battle looks like a victory," Elrond said, fighting back to back with Isildur.
"Yes! This may be our day!"Isildur answered, sticking a ork in the head with his blade.
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The enemy retreated when the day was half over. Isildur and Elrond sat among the men, resting and eating their rations.
"Not many were lost today." Elrond said.
"No, not many." Isildur replied taking a bite out of his bread.
"Must've been last night's beer." Elrond smiled.
Isildur smiled too.
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Later that day the battle continued.
"I think the orks are fighting harder than before." Elrond shouted.
Gil Galad was fighting along side him, Isildur, and Elendil. "I think you're right." Gil Galad shouted back, narrowly missing an ork dart.
"I think the Dark Lord is planning something." Elendil said.
Blood was thick on the ground, and swords were black in the dim light of Mordor. The battle continued and became a ragging fire. Men's lives flickered in the dark air of war.
Suddenly, out of his tower came the dark lord of Mordor. Gorthaur the Cruel. Sauron, himself, issued forth from his tower for the first time in seven years to meet his attackers. All who stood in his way were brought down. Man and Elf.
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"Elrond!" Isildur shouted, "Elrond! The dark lord is meeting our lords!"
"Gil Galad!" Elrond shouted and made his way through the fighting to Isildur.
"And my father!" Isildur shouted. "He came forth not to long ago and they are meeting him!"
A great rush of soldiers from both sides were running past them, away from the dark menace in the midst of the war. Even the orks feared their master. Isildur and Elrond fought they're way through.
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"Look!" Elrond shouted. "There the Dark Lord is!"
Elrond and Isildur both stood as if frozen on the scene playing out before them. The lord of Werewolves stood like a mountain of darkness even in the dark land. He was like an anti-light. His array was black, and his eyes where as red as the mountain.
All soldiers had dispersed, except for two proud figures. Even as Fingolfin in days of old, Gil Galad stood. Like a star amid a storm cloud. Next to him tall king of men stood like a steadfast tower in a dark land.
Elrond would go fight with his king, the last high king of the Elves of Middle Earth. He would go fight for his king. He would fight.
Sauron wrestled his might against Gil Galad and Elendil, a battle that elves still sing of till this day. It is a song of the friendship of elves and men, and of evil.
Elrond watched Gil Galad fight with Aeglos his spear. Dodging Sauron's blows like a streak of lightning. He saw Gil Galad fall back to the ground, screaming in agony.
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Isildur saw his father the king fighting against the unearthly power of Melkor's servant. Elendil's high helm was smashed, his mighty sword Narsil fell. The glory of such a man would never be seen again in all the ages of the world..
"Father! My FATHER!" Isildur screamed as Elendil hit the ground.
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"My Lord! GIL GALAD!" Elrond yelled as he stooped over his friend's writhing body.
'He's burning,' Elrond thought to himself. 'The heat of Sauron's body is burning him alive!'
Elrond was working as fast as he could, and he could feel tears coming to his eyes. He took off Gil Galads hauberk and tried to take of his chain mail.
'It's burning my hands!' Elrond's mind shouted, but he held back a scream as he continued to take of the burning mithril. 'It's peeling off his skin!'
Elrond could now feel tears running down his face. Gil Galad had been a second father to him! Now he was dying too, leaving him just like the rest of them did!
Elrond tore off Gil Galad's mail along with his skin and then sank to the earth. The chainmail left scorch marks all over his body. He didn't know what to do. 'What have I done! I should have helped him! I'm a healer, why can't I help him now? '
"...Elrond?..." Gil Galad spoke quietly.
Elrond gasped, "Yes, Yes I am here my Lord!" Elrond's heart was beating very fast. Maybe all wasn't lost.
"...Elrond...I..I'm burning..."
"He's Gone My Lord. You...you'll be alright." Elrond lied to himself.
"..Elrond, I'm dying..." Gil Galad smiled weakly.
Elrond's face was now streaming with tears. "No Lord...No.." Elrond put is head to the ground and dug his burning hands into the dirt.
"...Elrond..." Gil Galad gasped.
"Y-Yes?"
"You...you must make sure...that his line doesn't die..." Gil Galad said with his last words, "...Your brothers line..."
"Yes, My Lord."
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"FATHER!" Isildur cried. He ran to his fathers body, forgetting everything. Even Sauron.
'Dead!' Isildur thought, 'Already dead.'
"Oh! Anarion! Father! Who must die next! My wife? My sons!"
"Why not you?" Said a deep, mocking voice from behind him.
Isildur turned around and heard the deep laugh of the lord of Mordor.
Isildur picked up the remains of his father's sword. The noble Narsil now reduced to shards and splinters on the ground.
Sauron laughed deeper still. "Fool! Thou hast challenged the strongest power in the world since the Mighty Melkor himself."
Isildur stared into the deep red eyes of Sauron, which few of Men or Elves could endure, and he saw hatred.
"Now go and join your foolish brother and your fallen father!" Sauron said.
There was hate inside Isildur too, strong enough to challenge the Lord of Mordor, to avenge his family.
Sauron walked forward, gripping his mighty weapon.
Isildur held Elendil's sword, and cut a finger from Sauron's hand.
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There was a moment of silence in the land and all fighting ceased.
There was a mighty scream the Dark Lord fell. The power of Sauron was gone for a time.
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Isildur and Elrond were at the camp. The armies were celebrating, for now they could return home after seven long years.
In the king's tent though, there was no cheer.
Cirdan the shipwright was there.
"You must destroy it now!" Cirdan told Isildur. "With that ring in the world's evil will endure."
"Sauron is destroyed." Isildur said, sitting in his fathers chair.
"None can foresee what evil that ring may bring." Cirdan said.
"Yes, it may be that no wrong will come of it. yet my heart tells me otherwise." Elrond said, looking Isildur in the eyes.
"Just consider the possibilities. The decision is yours." Cirdan spoke at last and left the tent.
Isildur sighed.
Elrond sat down and took a drink from his goblet. "What will you do?"
"I'm not sure." Isildur said.
"You should destroy it." Elrond heard himself say.
Isildur paused, then he looked at Elrond. "I can't."
Elrond saw the trouble in Isildur's eyes. "Why not? You're not planning on using it-"
"No!" Isildur said. "No, I can't. I can't use it. It burns me."
"Then why keep it?" Elrond asked him.
Isildur paused. "Because its precious to me."
Isildur turned his gaze away, but Elrond had seen enough. He knew he intended no evil.
"Isildur, you aren't making any sence. Why is it precious to you?"
"I dont know!" Isildur said. He got up and began pacing the room. "I don't know, that's just it." he paused. "Elrond, he killed my father and my brother! I can't just throw this away! Throw it into the fire to be lost forever. It would be...wrong."
Isildur paused again, then turned sharply towards Elrond. "This I will keep as a weregild for my father and my brother!"
Elrond just looked at him. Isildur knew that he must sound mad. How would he understand? How could he understand?
"I do." Said Elrond.
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The End?
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I know what your thinking:"Yay! Its over!", well sorry suckah! I would just like to say a few words.
Dont ask where the mind reading Elrond thing came from. Some elves can do it, why not Elrond?
The line: "This I keep a wereguild for my father and my brother" is pretty much strait out of Tolkien. According to Websters, Weregild means: The value set in Anglo-Saxon and Germanic law upon the life of a man in accordance with his rank and paid as compensation to the kindred or lord of a slain person.
What happen's after this you say? Well, they all live happily ever after! Stupid! No, seriously:
Isildur begins to keep the ring in a box on a chain.
While traveling to the North, Isildur, his sons, and a group of his men are waylaid by orks. After an arduous battle, Isildur's son Elendur(Said by Elrond to be much like Aragorn II) orders his father to leave the loosing battle.
Isildur did not want to leave his son and people to die, but he did so he could get the ring to the keepers of the three rings. He put on the ring with a scream of pain, and that was the last anyone ever saw him.
It is said that he ran much faster and farther that any other man of his age could have accomplished, but when he had to cross the river the ring fell off, and some orcs mistaked him for a monster and shot him.
His body was never found, but the heirloom's that he carried were later recovered from Saruman's chambers in Isengard, including the box and chain he carried the ring in. The Elendilmir(A chain with a diamond on it worn on the brow) was also found and given to Sam Gamgee by Elessar.
Personally, my only bad observations are that it starts out a little too much like All Quiet on the Western front...or MASH. One half expects Radar to pop up or whoever's on that show. My favorite part is Sauron.