Fingon and the Royal guard were finding things tough as well. He was now attacked by one of the Balrogs that bellowed in front of him, towering above the Elven-lord. In the meantime, Turgon, Hurin and Huor were cut of and pushed back amongst the freezing mud to the Hithilum mountains, Hurin and Huor were wielding black swords against the tide of foes and barking orders to their companies.
With a thrust from some Orcs, Northad was unwillingly pushed onto the fighting group around the Elven high-king. As he was there, Northad felt duty bound to aid his Lord even though the kingship was a vague one. But Fingon was duelling with a Balrog and though performed as capably and heroically as anyone could, Fingon was thoroughly occupied.
Another Balrog towered over Northad and snarled. Northad was beaten to the ground painfully and looked up, expecting death as he could do nothing against such a mighty creature. But fortunately for Northad, the Balrog roared and snapped its teeth at some arrows that flew against it and marched over Northad to join in the battle against Fingon. But it was an unnerving sight watching the Balrog blow red fire high above his head. Northad did wonder then how Terglis was faring.
Terglis was fighting hard in the Eastern battle. He could just make out Fingon's banner in the gloom in the distance. It might have been selfish of him, but now he was concerned with mere survival than victory. He heard a great shout and looked to the ranks of the enemy. Glaurung the mighty Dragon was making his way through the Orc-ranks. He lifted up his scaly head and roared. The Orcs cried in support and the Trolls beat their stone clubs on the ground as Glaurung approached.
The Elves drew closer together and crouched down. Glaurungs scally claws smashed the air, crushing Elves, Men and more than one or two Orcs of his own side. Glaurung was now coming uncomfortably close to Terglis as he cut of the legs of an Orc. Despite this been midsummer up in the north, driving heavy, freezing rain fell at an angle onto his face and the cold wind blew and it was muddy underfoot.
But his allies were still many and strong. Thousands of Elves and mortal allies. Glaurungs fire and claws were halted by the axes of the Naugrim and while he charged at them, scattering some Dwarves, he was repelled more than once. The Dwarves waved their axes to the air, and Terglis saw Glauring retreating from the field and black blood flowed from a wound in his body.
However the Dwarves had given up too. Their lord appeared to have been killed and this was enough for the rest of them. Terglis watched as the strong force of Dwarves slowly retreated and none stopped them. Terglis turned and asked someone, 'So those Dwarves are just leaving are they?'
'Do you want to stop them?' replied Amrod, a son of Feanor to him.
Just then there was a new shout. The Easterlings were now charging upon the Elves. It took time for these events to become clear to Terglis, but clear it became as the Easterlings were slaying Elves whenever they could find and indeed some of their arrows landed at his feet. The sons of Feanor were now fighting on two fronts, the Orcs at the front and the Easterlings in their rear.
The Elves and the Sons of Feanor took this betrayal as a personal rebuff as indeed it was. Forgetting almost the other forces of the Lord of Angband they charged into the Easterlings cuting through them like a fire. Terglis was nearby to see the confrontation between Maedhros, Maglor and the leaders of the Easterlings. With a stroke of his sword, Maglor slew Ulfthang and disarmed Ultfasht, his brother. Maglor stood over Ulfthast, sword in hand. Ulfthast knew he was facing death and pleaded for his life. But Maglor was more than a little frustrated by the turn of events and was in no merciful mood.
Maglor answered, 'Only he that sits on the throne of Angband may betray the sons of Feanor and yet live. You are not he, therefore die!' and decapitated the unfortunate Easterling. This was slightly acting out of character for Maglor, but he was in a desperate mood. But then new forces of Easterlings marched out of the eastern hills under the new leader Olthod who proved to be more cruel than his predecessors had been and the sons of Feanr were forced to retreat.
In the west, Northad was thinking that through the dark mist and clouds of Crows dominating the supposedly summer sky, but it seemed more like a deeping dusk, he could just make out Terglis to the East. But just then a Troll kicked him in his chest, breaking a rib and Northad fell down in the mud. In his pain he could see the final moments of the High-King Fingon.
Isolated Fingon was in a one to one duel with a Balrog, his guard eliminated or occupied. The tall Balrog whipped a whip of fire at the Elven Lord. In reply with some effort, Fingon cut the whip in two with his sharp sword. But the Balrog still snarled and hit Fingon with his paw. Fingon was rocked back but still cried out and cut the Balrog again with his sword, despite blood flowing from Fingon's skull. A bright light shone in his eyes as he fought the Demon from the dungeons of the North.
But a more deadly look came from the Balrog's face. Fingon was alone but he was possibly the only being in Beleriand that could fight the creature. But Fingon was undone by another Balrog coming up to him from behind, tying Fingons body with his whip. Together the two Balrogs were too much for Fingon and he screamed in pain as they tore him to pieces and his blood flowed onto the ground, amongst the other prone corpses of the fallen.
The light had never been much and there was an army of crows fling in the air and a black storm filled the sky and the only light was the odd flash of bright white lightening as the rain poured down. But one thing was clear to Terglis was that he was hopelessly outnumbered by both the Easterlings and the Orcs. Elves were flying to the mountains away as fast as they were able. Terglis ran sore, cut and blooded legs, minus several toes due to his injuries sustained in the Battle up sharp rocks and stones following the sons of Feanor.
But swifter than he ran a strong, hairy, horned Balrog. It's fire exploded amongst the Elves giving death to many of the few remaining survivors. The Balrog came facing Maedhros. Was another Lord of the Elves going to be slain? But the Balrog seemed more interested in humiliating the Elder son of Feanor than actually killing him. The Balrog bit of Maedhros's helmet, cut the Elf deeply across his chest, then bit of part of one of his feet. A halt foot to go with his broken arm. It then threw Maedhros down a hill making him limp away from the field and the other sons of Feanor were scattered.
Terglis had no time to wonder over this. His remaining allies were few and were been slain or fleeling or surrendering. This gave Terglis a little idea. He was not unskilled and the thought occurred that if he surrendered and perhaps made some kind of offer to work under the Orcs his skills might be recognized. It might not have been in the best interests of Man and Elvs but Terglis was sick now of all war and conflict and was wishing he'd never heard of Angband, Hithilum or anywhere else in the far North.
As a plan for survival it was probably better than fighting to death anyway. Nearly worked as wel. Terglis was herded with the rest of the prisoners into a pen and stripped of weapons. For a time nothing happened, but after a while, the Captain of Angband's forces clearly decided he had no wish for prisoners and a Balrog gave and order and the evil Orcs gleefully slew all of the prisoners cruelly, Terglis having his back broken by a stony club.
In the Western battle matters were grim. Fingon and most of his people were slain. The bodies of the Elder, Men and Orcs lay on the mud and dust of the battlefield. The Dwarves and the sons of Feanor had fled. Facing the entire hosts of the creatures of Angband were only the Elves of Gondolin and the Men of Hithilum stood firm. But as they retreated, slowly back to the Hithilium mountains, arrows after arrows from the enemy rained down upon them.
Northad was also concerned with his own problems. He was lying on a shield as though dead, but in fact he was badly wounded, though in much pain. A hastily made bandage covered his forehead but only partially stopped the bleeding. One of his ribs were broken, and his right arm which he held limply at his chest and he also bled from many cuts, large and small.
But now he was carried up, and it seemed the folk of Gondolin were retreating. yet the Men lead by Hurin were covering their retreat in what seemed to be a last ditch stand. A stand in which Northad really couldn't see any surviving. But Earnur was still alive. Northad was hearing him talking to Turgon the Gondolin ruler. Turgon said, 'Earnur you are a decent young man. You don't have to die as well. Come with us, back to our City, hidden in the mountains. There you will be treated well!'
Earnur looked like he wasn't sure what to do. Northad thought, 'Don't be a blasted hero, Earnur, come back with us! You are lucky to have been given this chance, Turgon obviously likes you! Don't throw it away! You'll be alive at least, Dellin loves you!'
Earnur replied as the rain splashed across his face crying, 'I don't want to die. But how can I desert my own people' What will that say of me? I am only young, but if they die, then I will die with them. Maybe I can see some hope. At the last something might happen to save us!' Earnur didn't look very convinced that something would happen to save them. No other forces were on their way and the armies of the Dark Lord had proved strong.
'What could happen here, now apart from death? Oh you blasted fool!' thought Northad.
But Turgon replied, 'If thas is you will, then so be it!' and gave a salute.
Northad wept as he saw his friend march away to face certain death. It came as no surprise for him to learn that none of those men survived. 'What a complete disaster!' Northad thought as he was carried into retreat with the rest of the badly wounded in what was a pitiable procession. Most of our Armies destroyed, Fingon killed, much of the Elder killed and all of the Men. All of the party I was with here only days ago are dead, save Mulling, but thats she didn't take part. I cannot walk and I don't know if I'll surive,' he was in great fear.
As it happened he did make a partial recovery from most of his wounds, but from some he never did. His right arm never felt right for the rest of his life. He smiled as Rhogusil wiped the wound a little from his head. She had not been in the battle at all, having little interest in such matters. Northad was thinking that perhaps she has been the wisest of all of them. A strong, yellow-haired commander of Turgons folk passed. Northad painfully turned and asked him, Glorfindel, 'To were are we heading?'
'To Gondolin,' Glorfindel replied.
