Alas, For Captains No Hope

Chapter 4

T.A. 2941 – The attack

Cottages near the path of the patrols heading to Dol Guldur were boarded up with wooden planks, no longer liveable. The woods were silent and dark. Animals had hidden themselves away from the sight, scared to death. Through the day and night warriors marched through the woods, not making a sound. Their faces were expressionless, their hearts petrified. With each step, their homes and beloved ones were getting smaller. It was the only option they had. They had to attack Dol Guldur. For the innocent. For the ones they dearly loved and who were terrified. They literally had no choice. And that all because of one person, if you could call him that. The Necromancer – Sauron.

Their destination was dark, cold and lifeless. Everywhere you looked it was black. Black of orcs, Uruk-haiand horses. In the dark were wargs, trolls and Easterlings placed. In the caves of Dol Guldur prisoners were being held and even more forces waited on the wood-elves. Whatever the outcome might be, it would be one bloody battle.

In the stronghold, ellyth and elflings were inside the cottages. Outside on the market square all left over warriors met up – both male and female. They were the ones unable to fight because of violent injuries, healing wounds or pregnancies. There was also one group of warriors who were too troubled by the shadow to operate normal. They would either die of grief before the attack ended or sail if they could manage a way to the Havens. To say it simple, the stronghold was filled with broken elves. All waiting with heavy weighing hearts for the outcome and prayed for the best.

'Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au.' (My heart shall weep until it sees thee again)

It was time. Mirkwood's forces stood lined up behind the last trees, in front of the border of the haunted fortress. Last prayers were said, the last weapons distributed. On the other side of the border stood an enormous army of the Shadow. Behind the wood-elves crawled the ever watching spiders, stings ready. They were trapped. All they could do was fight, and fight they would. The archers strung their bows, the swordelves held their swords firmly and the spearelves held their spears high above their heads. The unspoken signal was given. At once the three groups charged their attack – hoping for victory.

"Gurth gothrimlye!" (Death to our foes!) The troop commander yelled.

"Cuamin linduva yassen megrille!" (My bow shall sing with your sword!) The lieutenant of the archers screamed to the Easterlings and orcs.

"I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor!" (The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun!) The elves in charge of the swords cried before sprinting towards their enemies.

The elves in charge of the spears merely yelled in agreement to the battle cries.

Soon enough several bodies were already pilled up on the battlefield. Blood was spilled everywhere – on clothes, weapons, heads, bodies, buildings and on the ground. For every enemy the elves killed, five would take it's place. Wargs bit fiercely in the bodies of the elves, tearing them to the last piece apart. Horses kicked with force the elves from their path and led their riders to safety. Easterlings strung their bows and slashed through the bodies of the immortal. The trolls made the ground beneath them shudder and trampled their obstacles – whether they were friend or foe. Elf for elf went in their gigantic mouths, never to be seen again. Within moments, the first line of the wood-elves was gone.

Archers ran out of their arrows and changed their weapons. They joined the rest of the warriors on the ground, now accessible for the enemies on the ground without arrows or spears. Weapons lay spread around the battlefield. Some had been discarded by the enemy and others had been the property of fallen warriors. Chaos was seen in every corner of Dol Guldur, except for in the well secured dungeons and towers. The elves fought their way over to them – but had no success for a long time. Not one of them knew that neither friend or ally was alive.

After several distraught hours, Urak-hai made their presence known in the battle. Before anyone could stop their leader, he had reached Mirkwood's troop commander. His back was against the enemy – he was unguarded. Before he had registered any danger, a heavy dwarven steel blade the Urak-hai had stolen from the prisoners cut through him. He was instantly dead. His body hung on the end of the sword, like puppets in a puppet show. The troop commander of the Woodland Realm was no longer. The warriors were on their own.

Even without someone to lead them the elves of Mirkwood fought steady and determined on – something that made the enemy blind of anger. Furiously they cut through anyone in their paths towards the center of the wood-elves their forces. In the progress they had killed elf and orc alike. The elves reacted instantly and turned around to face the new foe. The last remainders of their knives were thrown and the last clean parts of their swords were covered underneath blood. Whether they would win or not, they would fight until the last elf died.

When most hope had vanished and victory was written on the orcs' foreheads, the secret weapon arrived on time. The truth had been all this time that the elves were only the first step of the plan – as distraction. The reaction of the occupants in Dol Goldur were almost priceless when they saw none other than the White Council themselves. It should have been priceless if not seven out of the ten forces were whipped away, not to return.

"Elen sila lumenn omentilmo." (A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting) Greeted the Lady of the light, Galadriel. Although the meeting was bitter, darker than ever before, the lady held her head high. The enemy would not win.

Behind the lady Galadriel the rest of the White Council was present. The Istari Gandalf and Saruman and the Lords Elrond and Círdan. All wore an equal expressionless mask. They would not give Sauron the pleasure of their defeated emotions.

The battlefield fell silent the moment the company arrived. Orcs, Urak-hai and Easterlings froze in their place, weapons still in their hands. The elves slowly looked around the scene and teared up at the sight. Around them, their comrades lay deadly still defeated on the cold, hard ground. Their eyes were open and showed a sea of emptiness, the light they once beheld blown out. Their fea had been transported to the Halls of Mandos. With hurt feelings, the warriors all paid their respects to the fallen.

After the long lasting silence, the enemy's forces started to panic. At once they all started to split up towards different directions. The wood-elves picked up their weapons for the last time and took off after the Shadow's creations. Together with the new forces from Lothlórien and Imladris they defeated the last of Sauron's troops.

Ten days later the forces of the Woodland Realm returned after their mission from Southern Mirkwood. The forces of the other Elven realms had taken the task of dispatching Dol Guldur of the last remainders of Sauron over. In their eyes, the wood-elves had done more than enough.

The warriors were awaited by worried, hopeful elves behind the gates of the stronghold. With them stood the Elvenking himself, who already had been informed of the situation.

Slowly the forces came into sight. Immediately cries were heard. Everyone had seen the amount of warriors present. King Thranduil silenced them all with one hand gesture. The crowd did as was told and returned to their places, following the movements of the troop carefully. Within moments the soldiers bowed in front of their sire, except for the lieutenant in charge.

"Aran nin Thranduil, we bring sad tidings." He announced. "We have fought with all the weapons and the power we possessed until the last servant of the enemy was disposed of. In our attack, Urak-hai killed the troop commander and several of our lieutenants. We also lost a big amount of warriors." The lieutenant paused and looked with a pained heart behind him, before continuing. "I will bring my condolences to each family of the fallen. Their bodies will be returned as soon as possible by our allies from Imladris and Lothlórien. May they all rest in peace." Thranduil nodded in approval.

The lieutenant sighed before finally telling the outcome of the attack. "Although we might won this battle, I must inform you about the end. Sauron has fled." Several elves instantly started to push through the crowd, towards the lieutenant. Murmurs were being heard and the crying became louder.

Had it all been for nothing? So many had fallen and the enemy had disappeared. Had it been worth the trouble, the heartbreaks? It was never worth it. Battles were never worth the death of elves, men, dwarves and hobbits alike. But sometimes, you simply hadn't a choice. The elves who had passed away made Middle-Earth safer for the ones who were still there.

The night was a blur for all the citizen of the Woodland Realm. Elves walking into each other, into buildings and fell over the biggest and smallest objects. They were numb in their body, their minds were empty. Faces were unrecognizable, words unheard. All they knew was that they might won the battle, but paid the ultimate price. They paid with the lives of their beloved ones. It was a tough night for all, not only for the ones who had waited for news. Several of the warriors who had left with the troop commander had learned of the fate of the normal patrols, of the ones who couldn't bear the grief anymore.

The spiders they had seen before the battle had retreated to one of the patrols scouting the area. Those in the patrol had not returned – their carcasses were found in the spiders' hole or in their webs.

The elves who had been troubled by the Shadow had either faded or passed away on their way to the Havens, when they had been ambushed by orcs and Easterlings.

One thing was sure: Mirkwood had suffered a big loss.

A few days later funeral procession arrived with a big amount of the bodies. They were already released by the authorities after being cleaned of blood, possible weapons on their body and the cause of death was found. The rest would be send once the same procedure was finished.

As on the day of the warriors' return, the king and the citizen waited in the courtyard. This time, it was well organized without any problems. They all waited in silence for the funeral procession to arrive. The king then walked over to the leader of the company and finished the politic greetings. After that was done, the temporary coffins were laid besides each other in a neat line. The warriors present at the attack were called forwards to identify the bodies of the fallen. If they could not identify them, a second group of citizen would walk past. There would come a new group each time the identifying was not successful until it was.

When the coffins were opened, several elves already saw the bodies of their beloved ones. Even then the progress was performed. Luckily for everyone present, the bodies were identified after one round. This was a big relief for all.

The upcoming days the Woodland Realm prepared herself for the burning of the bodies. They collected burning wood, prepared the bodies for the ritual and made the usual measures needed for a traditional warrior's funeral. Then finally the time came to say their farewells – something bitter but relieving for them at the same time.

"Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva" (Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet)

The time of Sauron in Dol Guldor was over.

Translations

Ellyth: Female elves

Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au: My heart shall weep until it sees thee again

Gurth gothrimlye!: Death to our foes!

Cuamin linduva yassen megrille!: My bow shall sing with your sword!

I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'anor!: The bones of our foes will gleam under the sun!

Elen sila lumenn omentilmo: A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting

Fea: The spirits or souls of creatures as Elves and Mean.

Aran nin: My king

Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva: Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet