DISCLAIMER: I own nothing related to Middle-Earth or The Silmarillion. I am only borrowing them.

SUMMARY: The last heroic stand of Fingon, High King of the Noldor, at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.

Last Hero Standing by Jessie Syring

Only now can I see it was a trap. Such things are not so obvious in the heat of battle.

I was allowed to break out and join my brother. What false hope that was! I did not know the depths of Morgoth's hatred. He must have emptied Angband's deepest pits in that moment, hoping to slay us both in one vicious attack.

I stand now alone but for my loyal guard. Turgon is gone, driven away by the armies of Angband. My heart is glad---perhaps he will escape this killing ground. With each passing moment, more orcs and wolves are joining those closing in on my warriors and me. Turgon will make a fine king and I wish him well.

I feel the fear sweep through my guard and turn. Gothmog, greatest of the Balrogs, has arrived at the battle. His great axe cuts through all in his path.

"Utúlie'n aurë!" I shout. "Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë!"1

They take heart in my words, these noble Elves. I can see it in their eyes as they rally to my words. Perhaps our cause is lost but we shall give them a fight like they have never known!

My standard-bearer falls to a black orc blade. I slay the foul creature and lift the banner, letting the wind take it and reveal the blue and silver colors. A cheer goes up from my remaining guards.

"Autua i lómë!2" I rally.

But my guards fall around me. Soon only I remain, surrounded by dead bodies and bloodthirsty orcs. I stand ready for them, sword in one hand and the pole of my banner in the other. The evil creatures hold back, though, and I know why. I can feel the heat at my back. I plant the butt of the pole firmly in the ground so it will stand freely and turn.

The orcs are parting, fleeing in fear before Gothmog. The huge demon strides toward me, its beastly features twisting in an evil leer.

So this shall be the end.

Breathing deeply, I raise my sword in salute and take a ready position. To my surprise, the creature returns the salute.

I duck low as the first swing of its black axe cuts in at head level. For all its size, the Balrog moves with incredible speed. If I am to die fighting, I must be even quicker and stay within its reach.

Soon my shield-arm hangs limply, bleeding and broken from an attack I could not evade entirely. I have scored several minor hits but they have not slowed the demon. Still, Gothmog is more wary with his attacks now. Still I wonder how long he will wait until he simply orders the orcs to attack. They would swarm over me in numbers I could not defeat.

No. I know the answer to that. There is glory in killing the High King. Gothmog wants the kill himself.

The axe sweeps toward me in a lazy arc. I easily dodge. Why does he waste his strength on this obvious attack?

I learn the answer in my error. A thong of flames wraps around me. A second Balrog has joined the battle and caught me in its whip. I scream as the flames burn me even through my armor. Gothmog raises his axe.

Ereinion3, forgive me.

THE END

1 "The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!"

2 "Passing is the night!"

3 Ereinion is better known as Gil-galad, the son of Fingon.