Dagor Dagorath: The End (Chapter 1)
Author: lotrmithrandir

Summary: A long time ago, the Valar Mandos predicted The Battle of Battles, or in Elvish Dagor Dagorath. Morgoth has returned and is going to destroy the whole of Arda... starting with Valinor. Now, Gandalf the White must unite Vala, Maia, Elf, Man and Dwarf to fight the greatest evil the World has ever seen.

Notes: This is especially for non-Silmarillion or LOTR readers. You should probably read the character list on my profile before you read this story. It gives you a sense of the World and of the vast wealth of characters in JRR Tolkien's Middle-Earth Legendarium. I'll try to bring them all back.

Disclaimer: The characters of The Lord of the Rings and of The Silmarillion are not my property and they belong to JRR Tolkien's imense imagination.

Preview of Chapter: The first battle of the Dagor Dagorath ensues and the Elves suffer some terrible losses. Which is just to say that I am not afraid of killing off characters. Even important ones, for the sake of a good story.

Good read (and review)!

Chapter One

Preparations

'The End?' Manwë repeated.

'Yes.'

'And how will it, in fact, end?' he asked, turning to Mandos.

'My vision does not reach that far.'

The Valier, the Lady Valar, grew frightened. In fact, all Valar did. Varda, the Queen of the Stars and wife of Manwë stood up and stared down at Olórin (for she and the other Valar were much taller than him).

'How much time do we have?'

'A few hours, maybe less,' Gandalf answered. 'But that's not the biggest problem. Middle-Earth is. No elf has walked that earth since Arwen, daughter of Elrond died. We have no idea how much it has changed.'

'I have…' Manwë whispered.

'I know, my lord. But the rest of us have not. And Mor…'

Everyone stopped breathing at that. Gandalf corrected.

'And he will most certainly attack them first. Swiftly. And quietly.'

'Then what do you suggest?' Ulmo inquired.

'I recommend that we send a small army. No more than 20 thousand elves, led by Finrod Felagund.'

Manwë reflected for a moment. Everyone else remained quiet.

'Why Finrod? Why not a Maia?'

'Because, sir, I still believe that our best chance of survival lies here in Valinor.'

'And yet, you recommend that we send 20 thousand Quendi to Middle-Earth where they will most certainly be killed.'

'Sir… Finrod does not fear death. Neither do any of the other Quendi.'

'But we have better use for them here!'

'Yes. But by sending such a force to Middle-Earth we buy ourselves more time.'

'And sacrifice the only remaining direct descendent of the House of Finarfin except for Galadriel.'

'Yes.'

Manwë gasped at the simplicity of Gandalf's answers.

'How come this is so crystal clear to you?'

'It's not. But I count the minutes to our demise and I make the decisions that have to be made. Remember, my lord… "All you have to decide… is what to do… with the time that is given to you…".'

And it was settled.

Gandalf erupted from the Golden Palace of Valmar and was quickly joined by Galadriel, sister of Finrod and daughter of Finarfin.

'How does it look?'

'Not good… especially for you.'

'Why especially for me?'

'Because I have a favor to ask of your brother.'

'Finrod?'

'Yes. Where is he?

'He left Tirion with my father a few minutes after I did. They should be arriving any minute now.'

'Good.' Gandalf remarked.

'Mithrandir, what is going on?' Galadriel asked, stopping in her tracks.

Gandalf turned around and put his right hand on Galadriel's shoulder. It was very hot, Galadriel felt. This was due to the Elven ring he was wearing on his finger. Narya, the ring of fire. For Gandalf was the bearer of the Flame of Anor (the Flame of the Sun).

'Galadriel… trust me,' Olórin begged.

She of course was also a ring-bearer. She carried Nenya. The Ring of Adamant and the Ring of Water. The bearer of the most powerful of the three, however. The bearer of Vilya, the Blue Ring, the Ring of Sapphire and of Air was Elrond.

At this moment, they heard a voice call.

'Mithrandir!'

It was Legolas. Running with a worried and frightened face.

'I know. I felt it too.'

'What are we going to do?'

'Talk to Tuor. Get him to call Glorfindel and Ecthelion and prepare the defenses. And see if you can find Ingwë. He needs to talk to his people.'

'We'll do,' Legolas said and ran away so fast that he was gone before Galadriel had a chance to mutter.

'Mithrandir…'

Gandalf saw where she was looking. Finarfin and Finrod had just arrived.

Melkor, the fallen Valar, also known as Morgoth, the Dark Lord, still remained behind the Door of Night with his fellow minions Sauron and Gothmog (therefore, he wasn't at all comfortable with his company).

For thousands of years he had attempted to break through that door. And his moment had finally come. He had found a way. And he would finally return to Arda and get his revenge from those who had taken away his freedom.

'Starting with…' Morgoth whispered maliciously.

He stared down at Arda. But he wasn't looking at Arda itself. He was observing a tiny little light in its sky. The Silmaril that the Valar had set as a Star upon Arda. And with it… lay his destroyer. The person who had been responsible for his downfall.

Eärendil.

'Are you sure you can handle this?' Gandalf asked.

'Yes.' Finrod, answered.

'I'm not forcing to do this.'

'I know… but it has to be done.'

Gandalf extended his hand in gratitude.

'Just know that… you won't be forgotten.'

'Thank you, Mithrandir,' Finrod said, shaking the wizard's hand.

'What you're doing… means a lot…' Gandalf stated, with a tear in his eye.

And as the Maia walked away from Galadriel and Finarfin's goodbyes and sat down on the side of a road... he felt sad. He hadn't felt this way since the end of the Third Age when the Mouth of Sauron had ridden out of the Black Gate of Mordor and had boasted that the Ring-bearer, Frodo Baggins, was dead.

His heart was empty.

He had always held a special place for the House of Finarfin. Finrod and Galadriel were arguably the greatest Noldorin elves after the three Sons of Finwë. Of all the other elves of their kind, only Elrond had ever come close to their wisdom and power. Curiously, Elrond was the Son-in-law of Galadriel herself.

The House of Fingolfin had been the one to carry on the leadership of the Noldor. But the House of Finarfin had been the one to carry on the wisdom and craftsmanship of Fëanor.

The few remaining elves of the House of Finwë watched as Finrod marched in front of his troops. And so, for the second time, Finrod Felagund, the heir to the High-Kingship of the Noldor, the Elf who had sacrificed himself for Beren and Lúthien, rode to battle and to death one last time.

And the words that Fingon, son of Fingolfin had screamed before the Nírnaeth Arnoediad echoed one final time through the plains of Aman spoken by Finrod and Gandalf in unison.

"Utúli'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië, utúli'n aurë!"

The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar, the day has come!

The Silmaril that lay in the skies of Arda twinkled. It twinkled again. And again. And again.

And that's when Eärendil heard the voice of his lover. Elwing.

'Eärendil. You are summoned. A great evil is upon us and your presence is required.'

This was a pivotal moment in the history of Arda and Eärendil needed to be present. He needed to see. He needed to fight.

And for the first time since the War of Wrath, Eärendil, the mariner and the savior of Middle-Earth, abandoned the gem and returned to Aman and to Valinor.

"And to Elwing," he kept thinking.

Finrod was nowhere to be seen. The Vala Ulmo had used his powers to give speed to Finrod's fleet and get them back to Middle-Earth as quickly as possible. Once there, he would be out of range even for the Valar. Only the grace of Ilúvatar could help them now.

But Gandalf had one final preparation to do. He was now in a green field. No other living being in sight for miles and miles all around.

"This is the place."

And Olórin thrust his staff three times upon the earth and howled:

'Istari! Come to me and fulfill your Oath!'

And the green fields disappeared in flashes of blue, black and brown.

Out of nowhere, four figures appeared in the mist. Radagast, the Brown. Pallando and Alatar, the Blue Wizards. And…

'Saruman!' Gandalf, gasped, drawing his sword Glamdring.

Saruman looked up, unsheathing his sword. And the battle began.

The two wizards fired blasts of light out of their staffs. The two blasts hit each other and exploded. Gandalf ran forward and swung his sword but Saruman blocked it.

Sounds of metal-on-metal filled the air. Sometimes those of staff-on-metal would stand out and sometimes staff-on-staff sounds would also appear.

Saruman seemed to be winning for he blocked every move the other made and also seemed to get closer and closer to Gandalf's robes every time he attacked with his sword.

And that's when Gandalf sprang himself backwards and sent a lightning bolt through the tip of his staff which hit Saruman's wrist and made him drop his sword.

Saruman only had time to swing his staff before Gandalf blasted him away with his own power. The former White Wizard went spiraling through the air and then landed, quite unexpectedly, on his feet.

He bowed immediately and kneeled before Gandalf.

'You passed the test.' Saruman, the white, stated. 'May I join your force?'

Olórin looked into Saruman's eyes and tried to make out his intentions. Quite unexpectedly, he felt compassion. Pity, even. He was looking at a Maiar spirit that had fallen from grace.

But he had once been a wise Maia. Gandalf had always said, regarding his transformation from grey to white, that he had become what Saruman should have been.

'Very well… I'll allow it.'

And so the five Istari were together for the first time in thousands of years.

Once Gandalf returned to Valmar, he couldn't help but notice a big cluster of Noldor, Vanyar and Teleri Elves near the shores of the Great Sea.

Eärendil had returned. He was now hugging his father Tuor, the only man ever to be counted among the Elven Folk, his mother Idril, and his sons Elrond and Elros.

But then Eärendil caught sight of Gandalf himself and immediately cried "Mithrandir!" and ran toward him, being followed by Elrond. They shook hands.

'I'm glad to see you here, Eärendil,' Gandalf saluted. 'We can use all the help we can get.'

'I only wish we had the strength of the Elder Days. I remember the great host of the War of Wrath…'

'So do I, Eärendil... but I never lose hope...'

'Are you implying that we are capable of mustering an Army as powerful as the Host of Valinor?' Elrond inquired.

'I won't say yes… but I won't say no.'

'Gandalf…' Elrond started.

'I'm sorry, Elrond… I just don't have an answer.'

They stood there in silence, thinking and planning. And then it happened.

A huge lightning followed by a massive thunder cleared the sky. And suddenly, the whole world was filled with darkness of the kind never seen before by any dead or living being.

And the sky cracked open. Melkor had broken the Door of Night.

Morgoth had returned.

Gandalf rode his fast steed Shadowfax across the plains of Valinor followed closely by Tuor, Eärendil and Finarfin.

'The Dark Lord is upon us!' Gandalf cried to every elf he saw. 'No one will be safe from his terror. Treason is not an option. He shall never forgive you for his defeat… and you don't need his forgiveness! Pick up your weapons! Mount your horses! Fight!'

The Second Host of Valinor had been mustered.

As the Leader of the Istari, the High-King of the Noldor, the Son of Huor and the savior of Beleriand approached the Gates of Valinor, the armies of Elves felt hope. They could see that there was a small chance of survival. And an even smaller chance of victory. But a chance nonetheless.

But the first casualty of the Dagor Dagorath would not be of the Elven kin.

"The board is set… the pieces are moving…"

At the gate, they were met by the herald of Manwë and leader of the Maiar, Eönwë. Although he was the official leader of the Maiar, Eönwë had always known that he was not nearly as wise nor as nearly as powerful as the Maia standing before him. Olórin was the de facto chief of the Maia. And Eönwë was okay with it.

'What news?' Gandalf asked.

'Nothing much. We have no armies coming our way.'

'We're at the West end of Valinor, what about the South? Couldn't Melkor attack from the southern end of Aman?'

'He most probably will go with a two pronged approach,' Eönwë agreed.

'Ingwë is commanding a force of 250 thousand Elves in the South, Gandalf,' Finarfin informed. 'He is with Olwë, Elros and the Blue Wizards as well.'

'He's gonna need more men than that to defend the South. Just here we have 500 thousand.'

'Me and Tuor will go help them with another Great Army,' Eärendil suggested.

'Go,' Gandalf agreed, then turning to Eönwë. 'Then I guess we're left with…'

But before he could finish his sentence, a deafening sound swept the earth. The sound of the horn of Morgoth.

And the Dark Lord himself appeared in the skies.

Huger than last time, uglier and stronger. His Silmaril-less crown as black as night. His face filled with hatred and wrath.

His mouth opened and he spoke with his dark and gruesome tongue.

'Elves of Arda, Maia of Aman, Valar of Valinor… you have known for millennia that your fate was traced in the destiny of the World. Your life's path written in stone. And it is now about to be fulfilled.'

'Fight me and die, or join me and live. A simple riddle with a simple answer. Those who wish not die: step forward now.'

And the Earth was filled by immutable silence. But then there was movement.

'Do not listen to him. His tongue is filled with riddles and treacheries!' Gandalf urged. 'Do not hear a word of him. Do not let him destroy you with lies and deceit! Do not…!'

And then Morgoth howled:

'Be silent Mithrandir! Tharkun! Olórin!' his voice was filled with unspeakable terror and rage. 'I have tolerated your insolence for far too long and it is time you pay for it.'

Every elf for miles held their breath. The Valar in their thrones closed their eyes, seeking for guidance.

'For last time… Gandalf Greyhame…!'

And then the dead earth trembled as the fallen Vala Melkor spoke a curse of unimaginable proportions and then launched an immense blast of power toward the White Wizard.

And Gandalf stared at it, knowing that death was imminent

The Noldorin elves around him shivered, all awaiting their fate except for Finarfin, the High-King.

But the first casualty of the Dagor Dagorath would not be of the Elven kin.

Mandos, the Judge of the Dead and the Master of Doom, did the one thing no living Man, Elf, Dwarf or Maia had ever conceived.

He sacrificed himself for Arda.

The Vala placed himself and his huge figure in front of the blast and absorbed it, exploding in a blast of white and dark mist.

A Vala had just been consumed into the nothingness. One of the most powerful Ainur was dead.

And all Morgoth did was laugh.

Tears streamed down Varda's face, Manwë's face had never been gloomier. Vairë would never smile again.

Gandalf's feeling of powerlessness was greater than ever.

A Vala had just been consumed into the nothingness… and all Morgoth could do was laugh.

But the worst was yet to come.

Mandos had been the judge of death. His halls had re-embodied thousands of elves and brought them back to life. And those elves could not survive without him.

All around him, Gandalf started seeing dead elves. Long dead elves. Guilin of Nargothrond was no more. And his sons Gelmir and Gwindor were dead.

But the greatest loss of all…

'Tinúviel!' someone shrieked.

Beren and Lúthien, once reincarnated by Mandos… were dying.

This loss was one of the greatest of the Dagor Dagorath… but no songs were written of it. For there was no one to write it.

Of the re-embodied elves, only three remained. Glorfindel and Ecthelion, Lords of Gondolin, and Finrod, who was now in Middle-Earth. The reason for this was a question that no one had a chance to puzzle over.

'No… I think I will watch you suffer a little while longer…' Morgoth spoke to Gandalf and disappeared.

And once again, the horn sounded.

Thousands of Orcs were approaching the Western and Southern walls of Valinor and there was nothing Gandalf could do to stop the charge of infuriated Noldorin and Teleri elves. In the South led by Olwë, uncle of Lúthien, and to the West by Celeborn, husband of Galadriel and cousin once-removed of Lúthien as well.

'Death!' the elves cried.

Eönwë, Finarfin and Gandalf watched as the armies of Morgoth were struck down by this sudden sortie.

'They should not have done that,' Eönwë remarked.

'No one could have prevented this. Only Ilúvatar himself could have done something about it,' Gandalf stated

'So there's no stopping this?' Finarfin asked.

Gandalf walked to his horse and while climbing on to it he said:

'No. There's no stopping it. Finarfin, son of Finwë… we are now at War.'

And so the Great Host of the Noldor rode out into the field and met the armies of Melkor.

The fight was long and filled with losses on both sides.

Melkor watched as his Orcs were slain by the elves and decided that both sides were of equal force.

The shriek made by the Nazgûl's steeds was horrible. Only the Maiar in the battle, Elrond and Galadriel (due to their status as ring-bearers) resisted it. Not even Finarfin, Glorfindel and Ecthelion were able to mask their fear.

The dragons plunged downward and grabbed several elves each. That, added to the terror the Nazgûl caused on the elves, made the losses extremely uneven.

And so Eönwë and Gandalf camu up with a plan. They would fight the airborne Nazgûl as Saruman and Radagast fought the Orcs on the ground.

But that was before the trolls appeared. Saruman and Radagast were forced to lead the force against the trolls. But things just kept getting worse.

Four Nazgûl were landing.

From the mist emerged three hooded figures. Each wielding a sword. Their rings of power visible. No more hiding.

But Ringwraiths are not common enemies. Common elves cannot fight them. They don't have the will or the strength to do so.

And so Gandalf threw himself on the first wraith that, though frightened by the White Wizard, launched into a fierce attack.

Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, fought the second Nazgûl with resolve, but they knew they wouldn't be able to hold him off for long.

Their father, Elrond, along with the Lords of Gondolin Glorfindel and Ecthelion, were tasked with holding off the third Nazgûl.

And Galadriel. She was on the fourth wraith. She felt no fear for her life. She alone was fighting the Nazgûl with nothing more than a long, thin and sharp Elven blade.

It was a fierce battle. Worthy of a long chanson. Those who had the fortune of witnessing it would remember it for the rest of their lives. As small as that might be.

The Nazgûl gave no quarrel. Galadriel did not back down.

Only once before had a women ever challenged one of the nine. Éowyn. During the Battle of Pellenor Fields she had protected her father, the King of Rohan from the Witch-King and had managed to kill him.

But this was an entirely different fight. The Nazgûl were acting on the orders of Morgoth now. Not Sauron.

And as the swords hit each other, the fighters grew weaker. But the fatigue was more noticeable on Galadriel for she had lived in peace for thousands of years whilst the Nazgûl had been imprisoned for that same time.

The powers of good and evil were at full play there. Gandalf, the sons of Elrond, Elrond himself and the two Lords of Gondolin were risking their lives and fighting the Ringwraiths.

And while this happened, Eönwë maintained his fighting stance against the airborne Nazgûl. And Saruman and Radagast fought the enormous trolls that threatened to kill the elves.

However, there were still thousands of Orcs to fight. And they showed no sign of backing down.

But then the Nazgûl fighting Galadriel kicked her stomach and she was thrust 30 feet across the fields.

The Noldor dared not attack the Nazgûl and the few who would dare were now under full attack by the trolls.

And so Finarfin, father of Galadriel, mounted his horse and blew the horn of the Noldor. He blew so hard that Ingwë on the Southern end of Valinor heard it.

And Finarfin called for a charge in the ancient language of Quenya.

'Etelelya, Eldar!'

"Go forth Eldar!"

And so the Noldorin elves on horses charged against the Orcs and cleared the field for the duels with the Nazgûl.

The battle with the Orcs would go on far away. Many of those Noldorin elves were never seen again.

But the Nazgûl Galadriel had been fighting was almost on her. She was getting up. And either no one was paying attention or everyone was just too busy to notice that the Lady of the Galadhrim and bearer of Nenya was about to be slaughtered.

The Nazgûl had his invisible eyes on her. Galadriel, now almost up, stared at him fiercely.

"Today is the day you die," The wraith thought.

And that's when Elrohir noticed her. He saw the hooded figure prepare to kill Galadriel and he froze.

And then… many things happened so quickly there was no time to register any one of them.

The Nazgûl Elrohir had been fighting pushed Elladan off and stabbed his sword through Elrohir's chest.

Elrond turned around and saw his son trespassed by a sword.

Galadriel screamed in pain and sorrow…

…and cut off her attacker's hooded head.

The shriek of the Witch-King was so great that elves were falling to the ground.

'Elrohir…!' Elrond yelled, unaware of the shriek.

Glorfindel and Ecthelion were forced to cover their ears and the Nazgûl took his chance. He raised his sword, ready to kill Elrond.

Galadriel, unaffected by the shriek, tried to cry out "Elrond", but her scream was inaudible.

The Nazgûl swung his sword forward and was blocked by a flash of light that seemed to press against his sword. But it wasn't a flash of light. It was Ingwë's golden hair. He had come from the south and he hit the Nazgûl's hand so hard that his sword went flying away.

Ingwë slashed the Nazgûl's chest horizontally, making him fall and then pierced his heart from behind.

The Witch-King had already suffered two losses. He couldn't risk a third. And so he squealed once again and flew away. And all the remaining Ringwraiths disappeared in clouds of dark mist and smoke.

The first battle was won. But not without a price.

Elrohir was dead and Finarfin was nowhere to be seen.

And after war there is always sorrow, crying and mourning.

It was now time to take care of the living and bury the dead.

Next Chapter: Galadriel worries about the fate of her brother and her father. The Valar meet and plan their defense against Morgoth. And Gandalf must now gather his forces and prepare everyone for battle.