A/N: AU set a very very long time in the future of Middle-Earth in Valinor. Galadhir is talking to someone in this and I made it vague on purpose because this ties into some other story elements I have not yet been able to put onto the page. Italics are flashback sections. I wanted to know from any readers if the divisions were clear enough only with the Italics or should I also bold like the non-flashback parts. I know in the past, this has been an issue, so I just want some more opinions. Also this fic was greatly inspired by LadyLindariel's story "Ecthelion and Glorfindel's Last Stand"... So make sure you check out her fic too!
"You have no idea how it feels to have that light extinguished from you in such a manner." The darkly clad ellon turned his head, instead drawing his pained gaze to the amber fluid in his sparkling glass. His thick finger absently traced a figure eight on the pitted table top in the smoky tavern.
The scruffy, dark ellon kept his eyes averted but continued slowly, "They called me the Lord of Fountains." He tutted as his memory rushed back to that time so long ago. The smell of a burning city overcame his senses. A shadow of his former self came back to Galadhir, the feeling of being a noble. The pride of his standing and the privilege of his office returned to his mind. His gravelly, low voice spoke in a steady narration as he explained what was plainly moving before his mind's eye.
"The city was burning."
A heavy veil of other-worldly smoke was quickly rushing down the jagged peaks like a poisonous river. It hid thundering armies. A dull orange blaze burned at the heart of the smog. Ecthelion of Gondolin stood on the precipice of his private quarter. The white walls around him vaguely reflected the distant fires. His grim face did not crack at the sight, even if a thousand questions were flitting through his mind at the moment. How did the Enemy find them? How would they stand against this flood? The city was built strong, but at its heart, the realm had depended on its concealment. The sound of his captain's voice interrupted the endless loop of questions.
"My lord, the king has sent for your detachment now. We must protect the outer wall."
Ecthelion squared his shoulders and mentally steeled himself. "Go, if you have rallied the troops already, begin the defence."
"I was sent to the outer wall at first, but we quickly realised the machines would eat through our troops." Anger festered with the recollections. His fists balled, and a dark look rolled over the ellon's face. "Those bloody dragons were far too strong for our ranged weapons. They quickly broke through the heavy defences. Half of my men were killed in only the first few minutes. Like water on rock, they scattered us."
The raucous display under him was the most belittling scene he believed he would ever witness. The writhing, screeching, metallic, black crowd pulsing towards the walls was altogether sickening and infuriating. He forced the fear from his face, his men were terrified enough. "Brace yourselves!" He yelled. "Archers, fire!"
The responding whoosh of the arrows being sent was almost satisfying, until he realised how diminutive the attack was on the offending army. The first ten rows of fallen orcs were immediately devoured by others.
"It was in that moment, I realised that we were in big trouble." Galadhir finally looked up, his bright blue eyes were subdued.
Meeting his eyes was like looking into death itself. They were hollow, behind them replayed a nation being thrown into oblivion. But the point of contact only lasted a moment before it was over. Galadhir broke it with a swig from his glass and sighed before continuing carefully. "The orcs were relentless, climbing over the walls like animals. They called and cursed in their disgusting language. The larger orcs carried machines on their backs that spit poison. It made elves bleed and burn, turning their skin black and their tongues blue. Some of them carried fire-spitters cast into horrific faces that glowed red."
Ecthelion finally drew his sword. "Brace yourselves!" He took a deep breath before bellowing, "For Gondolin!"
He had no time to say anything else. A hideous face among thousands raised its crimson head over the wall. It was accompanied by scores as the creatures came in a sudden wave, crawling over the smooth wall impossibly. The chink of crossbows joined the din, the screams of both orc and elf enunciated the carnage. The copper smell of blood accented the smell of battle.
Ecthelion threw himself into the writhing masses with a furious grimace. His silver sword and shield a single flame among the smoking ashes. A heavy crash and large roar caught his attention amid the chaotic movement of battle around him.
A naked, humongous monster was pulling his heavy form over the lip of the blood-spattered wall. Some bulky iron cylinder was strapped to his back.
A sick feeling came over Ecthelion. An instinct warned him, death was near…
Ecthelion only had a breath to examine the newcomer when a smaller orc came at him with an ear-piercing gurgle and flailing scimitars for arms. He twisted out of the way of the savage creature and swept down quickly, connecting his blade with the orc's skull in a shower of sparks.
He was going to turn his attention to the weapon-bearing orc when a chorus of elves' shrieks made him whirl in the other direction. Another naked, grinning, orc was carrying one of the weapons… A sick fume issued from the iron weapon. He was caught between two of them when the previous orc ignited his own death machine.
Galadhir rubbed his eyes. For the first time during their times together, his voice cracked, and the elf looked on the edge of breaking. His hoarse narration faltered for a second, but then he pushed through the slew of emotion. "That was one of Morgoth's most heinous acts. He stopped at nothing to conquer. There were no rules in our battles. Though, that was the first time, I myself had heard of such horrific inventions… I was lucky to get out of that."
He suppressed a shudder. "But I did."
"Fall back!" His raw voice did not sound like his own, His throat burned so painfully, grinding out the words. Tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision further in the smoky battlefield. "Fall back!"
He forced his leaden boots to comply with his will. After seeing elves melt before him, his resolve was quickly fading, and he needed to be out of this situation before his mind cracked and his men died… "To the second level!"
Finally, the men were moving as fast as he wanted them to…
"We fled to the second level of the city. It was no less than thirty seconds after we had secured the gate when a harsh noise sounded over our heads. It reminded me of grating metal against rock."
The world shook in a clash of stone and fire. A heavy cloud of smoke plumed over the second level's tall gate. Its curling edge fell in strips to the floor before spreading. The air was instantly more difficult to breathe in.
Ecthelion rose from the crouch he had instinctively retracted into. He lowered his sword to his side and took stock of the situation, looking around at what remained of his men. The gate was still intact, but another detachment of ellyn who were on the wall were now launching themselves over the side into the courtyard, landing hard, some permanently. They were calling and Ecthelion struggled to listen to the yells over the clamour of war and the ringing in his aching ears.
He didn't have to listen for much longer when another clash sounded from behind the wall and flames devoured those who had not left the wall prior. Six gleaming black claws scrabbled over the edge and Ecthelion knew some terrible beast was near. It hefted its armoured body over the crumbling white stone of his beloved home.
That feeling of minuteness returned to the Lord of Fountains.
As it pushed itself over the barricade, he got a good look at it. It was huge, the largest animal he had ever set his eyes on. It's golden serpent eyes glowed with an ancient fury, akin to that which shone in his memory of the Valar. It had smallish wings outstretched awkwardly as it slithered over the cracking architecture. When it opened its mouth, Ecthelion saw rows of ivory teeth and stringy saliva.
He didn't inspect the creature any longer. Boldness flowered into his chest. His bright aqua gaze lit with passionate light. The worm rearing over his city reignited his patriotism. The feeling must have been contagious as he felt a band of his men arrange behind himself. He smiled, fey, before charging. "Tôl acharn!"
He locked his shield in front of him as he ran. The others behind him rushed forward with him to their deaths.
The beast noticed the movement. Its quick actions were like lightening in their pace. It coiled its body near to itself and its back arched as it took in a deep breath. It let out a fiery rain.
Ecthelion grit his teeth against the hot air, bringing his shield to take the attack head on. He was aware of many behind him who did not have shields withering, being blown away in a breath…
The creature swept its long head to take in the others around the courtyard. Perhaps it did not understand that its foes had withstood its flames.
Ecthelion cared not. He let out a war cry as he swiftly dropped his shield and took one last long stride before vaulting up on his strong legs and twisting mid-air to bring his sword down upon the creature's forehead, between the beast's wretched eyes. He met them as the silver blade split the armour at that sensitive place.
As the creature exploded into its death throes Ecthelion closed his eyes and let go…
"I thought for sure in that moment… that I was going to die." Galadhir gave a sloppy grin uncharacteristic of himself. "Obviously, I did not." He finally drained his glass and scowled before waving the male server to refill his drink. "I landed hard and when I woke up, I was on the third level. There were other dragons sacking the other quadrants of the city, but none had come as far as the third level of the city. We were learning how to kill the bloody things and the first wave of poisonous berserkers was taken care of."
The young server returned and unobtrusively set the glass of liquor down. He left with only a curious glance at the two before returning to his meagre life.
"I was informed my close friend Rôg, Lord of the Hammer of Wrath, had been killed by a fire demon. That was the beginning of our final act. He had upheld our strongest defences." The look of shadow passed of Galadhir's face once again.
"They told me of the Balrogs. They told me that they had breached the gates. That we were waiting in reserve till Tuor returned or called upon us."
Galadhir's face etched in a frown. "I felt helpless. I could hear the pounding drums of war down there and I was being held in reserve." He pointedly struck a finger straight own onto the table. "If we had gathered our forces we could have had a chance even if that was escape to fight another day… Instead, we backed ourselves into a corner, sealed our own tombs.
I waited there for almost an hour, feeling fëa after fëa of my friends being extinguished." The ellon drew his hands through his hair as the pain of the memories returned to him. His rage was rising and only the cool metal of his sapphire ring soothed the insanity rising inside of him. "When the sound of metal clanging on metal grew suddenly loud, I knew it would be soon."
"Stand your ground," he ordered powerfully. All at once, the locked gazes of those under his command became a heavy presence. He felt the burning pride of his city return to him like before, and words spilled with engulfing ardour. "We stand here as one last beacon. No matter what comes through that gate, be it demon, dragon, or fire from the gates of hell itself! Let the names of Gondolin's heroes be sung in song forever! We fight!" He shot the heavy sky with a shaking fist. "Victory and death!"
The gate blew open in a pelting rain of debris and dust as if to respond to Ecthelion's cry. Blazing azure flames lit the eyes of the Lord of Fountains as he charged those open, flooding gates.
"We pushed through the foes of Morgoth like a spear. They fled before my soldiers and we routed them in that moment. Tuor joined our small force and the orcs regrouped. We fought them till we reached the Square of the King. I faced my first Balrog, but nothing fazed me after all that I had been through." His gaze become lost in the liquid filling his glass. "I was fey."
To be honest, he had never recovered. He still felt that deranged buzz in the back of his mind, being held back only by the trinket around his ring finger. He changed the subject. "In that Square I faced what I was not prepared for."
"Ecthelion, please do not throw your life away," the king's exhausted plea was only half-hearted.
"Your life is worth far more than mine, friend." His words carried the finality that was fuelling Ecthelion's rage. It was burning him from the inside out, threatening to burst out of him any second.
Tuor nodded and turned to his red-faced armour bearer as the young ellon came running up to the king. "Seven dragons are upon us!" The lad huffed in a breath.
Ecthelion set his jaw. "Now is your chance, Tuor," he ordered.
The king made a heavy decision and tilted his head one last time. "Farewell, Ecthelion."
"It is lie that I drank from the fountain. Age long myth has twisted the story. I had not the time. Tuor left and scarcely a moment before he left my sight, Gothmog came upon me."
Ecthelion turned swiftly on his heel as the deafening roar echoed over the empty, stony space. To his right, just behind the Fountain of the King was a huge Balrog stepping through a gap blown into the wall of the city. He was larger than any other he had encountered so far.
It stood as tall as three men. It possessed four curled ebony horns and a wide swathing tail of flame. A sword of hard obsidian sparkled in the firelight burning at the centre of its chest. A loose, molten whip was held tightly in its right hand.
Ecthelion set his stance, ready to defend the square as long as he possibly could. There was obviously something different about this beast. He didn't dare to speak.
Silence abruptly pierced the moment as the creature assessed him in a near sentient manner. Then the bestial fury returned to the pitiless eyes of the Balrog. Its large feet rushed forward in a lilting run towards Ecthelion.
With a quick roll to his right, Ecthelion dodged the charge and came up with his shield lifted high to fend off the beast's falling strike.
It was fast, blindingly so. Cold calculations went into the creature's movements as the two opponents were thrown into a riveting flurry of attacks and parries.
Ecthelion exhaled powerfully as he deftly missed the swiping blade. The raw strength behind every blow was quickly going to wear him down. Already his arm ached from the ferocity of the beast's primal blows. The obsidian sword itself was substantial…
He nimbly darted to the left to step over the flashing whip of fire. The beast let out another roar, thickening the air and forcing Ecthelion to turn his face away, using his shield to shy away from the fumes.
It was the opening that was his undoing.
The balrog took the advantage. He took a savage step forward crashing his branding foot down on the shining shield.
Ecthelion cried out as a sharp agony rode up his left arm into his shoulder. He ground his teeth together and pushed the Balrog's weight off his body.
The beast lost its balance and stumbled. The brief respite allowed Ecthelion to take a handful of ragged breaths. He threw his ruined shield to the cobblestone street and grimaced as his lifeless arm flopped to his side. The rage coursing through his veins was addictively soothing. It numbed most of the pain for now, but also threw him into a frenzy.
The lord of fountains, threw himself at the creature, suddenly taking on the offensive, no longer caring for the passage of time. For a few terrifying seconds, he was alone with the beast and nothing else weighed on his mind. His sword hit the beast's flesh, rending deep into the flame under the ravage hide of the creature.
It bellowed in its own form of agony as a fiery spurt erupted out of its upper arm. The pain must have given the beast its own high of fury for it threw its other arm, catching Ecthelion across the side and sending the elf flying
He landed hard near the fountain in heap. The hollow sound of his sword landed far away out of reach. The pain hiked again, and a pricking sensation of fear crept back into his mind.
The balrog approached slowly, relishing the return of fear into the eyes of his opponent.
Ecthelion grit his teeth together as the beast's searing fingers wrapped around his neck, filling the air with the smell of scorched hair. He stared into the soulless depths of its inky eyes. Its faced cracked into a malignant sneer. A wave of smoke wafted through its serrated canines. One guttural noise ground from between its glowing, pebbled lips, "Gurz."
The elf lord's eyes rolled back as the pressure mounted over his larynx. His grasp of reality slipped away… No.
With his last spark of energy, his fingers found their strength and he reached upwards, gripping one of the creature's scales. His fingernails dug under the tough hide and twisted harshly. The Balrog screeched as the spine came off. Its grip loosened enough for Ecthelion to suck in a breath. The demon keeled backwards for a millisecond before recovering.
The speck in time was long enough for Ecthelion to take his own steps back. As the creature straightened, readying to attack, Ecthelion launched himself forward.
His aching body collided heavy with the beast. The tall spike of his helm sank deeply into the beast's molten chest. His neck and head exploded into agony. The air around him superheated, collapsing his lungs startlingly, as the Balrog let out a piercing roar. With the last of his ebbing strength he wrapped his legs around the creature's waist, intending to bring the huge beast down.
He felt the massive weight press into him. Seconds flashed past him as his withering, choking, body burned both from the lack of oxygen and the sheer heat emanating from the dying beast. Darkness closed in.
The stark feeling of water entered his overwhelmed senses. He desperately struggled to open his airways, but thrashing, steaming foam only surrounded him, dragging him deeper, utterly drowning his shuddering body.
Panic hitched in Galadhir's breath. The words kept coming and he couldn't stop them. "The last thing I remember was feeling…. Feeling that cursed water everywhere and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I surrendered my spirit because nothing I had experienced before then could compare to the sheer terror of being suffocated by water…."