In the midnight hour under the full light of Ithil, the elves waited at the periphery of Dol Guldur's hewn stone walls, weapons at the ready. A mile from Dol Guldur, Celeborn ordered the horses stopped and the servants to remain with them. He led the warriors without sound into the darkness.
Back in the presence of evil, Thráin was almost shaking in fear at the thought he may become once more imprisoned, but blithely added his short frame in effort to thwart darkness and evil. No mail from the realm of elves fit, so he wore a dark tunic the elves made for him. The sword was clutched in his right hand at ready. He saw from his position only a few feet from Lord Celeborn, the elf turn to look behind him and likewise peered into the dark to see what caught the great elf's attention. Two white clad figures approached. Thráin's eye widened at the Lady Galadriel's attire. No longer was she wearing simple tunic and leggings, but changed into a flowing incandescent gown that radiated its own life. Saruman was adorned in his white apparel as usual; staff of power waiting use.
Celeborn studied Middle Earth's two most powerful beings now standing before him. He would not wish to be an enemy of either. He touched his wife's hand and felt her unleashed power complements of Celebrimbor and lifted her slender fingers where Nenya was now visible. As long as she lived, her power would protect his warriors from detection until they attacked. He spoke into her mind. 'This is your greatest test, hervess. Use the aid of Elrond's ring, Vilya, wisely. Nenya alone is no match for Sauron's power. The Nazgûl await; let Elrond and Saruman fight them. Perform your one task and bring Mithrandir back to us. You are not alone while I draw breath.' Celeborn broke mental connection and released her hand. She stroked his cheek without reply, allowing the sizzle of Nenya's power to leave an invisible reminder down his cheek he was the lesser half of she who ruled the elves of Middle Earth.
Elrond escorted Arwen to her daeradar and with a parting kiss to her temple followed Galadriel and Saruman through a broken down archway, vanishing into mist rising from the dank forest floor as it caught updrafts and gave a ghostly appearance to the towering fortress walls.
Everyone waited. They would engage only when Mithrandir was rescued. Celeborn wanted to remain connected to her fëa, but both needed absolute concentration.
Sudden screams from the Nazgûl caused Thráin to flinch. The superbly trained elven warriors didn't twitch a muscle as a battle raged on the apex of stone; sounds of swords clashing resounding clearly down to them.
Celeborn didn't believe in the all supreme existence of Eru Ilúvatar, or he wouldn't have abandoned some of his first born to this doom. Helpless as a newborn elfling to protect those he loved, he prayed. 'Ilúvatar, Elrond and Galadriel believe in you. Don't let the Mandos' Halls enlarge with their souls this night. Elbereth, my lady has seen you, so you live. Protect the one you love.' Prayers ended, his thoughts turned to Elrond. Without Vilya, Elrond's fighting skills were less than his or Glorfindel's. Suddenly she was in his mind. 'I have him, send Radagast.'
Celeborn turned to the only wizard not fighting. "She has him, but her power is waning, go quickly." He yelled an order to the warriors to take Dol Guldur and joined his people, bow ready. He saw a burly orc lift a head over a broken wall and his arrow slammed it back out of sight as he rushed in that direction, with Thráin dogging his steps. He asked the dwarf to stay close to him in the preceding night's planning session.
Radagast didn't have to order his rabbits what to do and barely had time to jump onto his sled before they were racing up the broken steps and over rocky crags. Fearlessly they plunged into the midst of the Nazgûl. He witnessed Saruman wave his staff and three of the spirits shattered into shards of spirit, buying a few seconds for him to load Gandalf. He wanted to leave and get the battered wizard to safety, but Gandalf wouldn't let go of the Lady's hand, so he waited.
"Come with me, my Lady," Gandalf implored weakly.
She smiled fondly at him and pulled her hand free. Instead, she focused on Radagast, "Take him to Arwen and wait for me. I am not done here."
Before Gandalf could protest, Radagast's white rabbits were moving and his hands gripped tightly to the side rails.
Arwen promised to stay back and let the trained warriors do their job. To her left, sword in hand was Erestor.
The twins led a charge, easily piercing orcs with sword and arrow. Haldir and his brothers dogged the twin's footsteps and eagerly lapped up what the twins missed.
Radagast flew over a fallen tree and scattered orcs trying to climb the outside of the tower to reach those opposing Sauron and the Nazgûl. "Oh dear," Radagast cried as he zoomed by.
An orc nearly as toll as Azog and Bolg was left in charge of the diminished numbers of orcs catering to Sauron's wishes and was leading a band of twenty away from the fighting to escape certain death. He looked down from windows high above the lower levels at advancing elves. Leading the way, he slipped out a side entrance and kept close to the stone foundation walls as they worked down to ground level. Almost clear and into Mirkwood, they saw two elves separated from the rest, using the wall for protection. "The she-elf is mine," the leader rasped in black speech as they jumped off the wall down onto Erestor and Arwen.
The attack from above caught Erestor by surprise and without warning he was fighting for his and his charge's life, sword slicing through one and into the orc who landed next to him. He let out three piercing whistles, the universal elven signal of imminent demise and tried to get between Arwen and the increasing number of attackers, but it was futile and he hoped Glorfindel's lessons to her were remembered.
Arwen's first good look at orcs was when a massive, loathsome creature swung a scimitar with the flat side at her head, thinking the she-elf wouldn't put up much of a fight and he could easily knock her unconscious. She wasn't where he swung, but he was fast enough to side-step the plunging motion of her sword. When she had her arm extended, he grabbed her wrist, and heard her cry both in pain and angers as bones snapped.
"You are mine," he gutturally spoke in Westron. No sooner than the words were uttered, he looked at his stomach and the protruding handle of a dagger. "I die, you die." He let her broken arm go and raised his scimitar again, blade turned to take her head off when his went flying, spraying Arwen with black, sticky orc blood that made her want to vomit. Before she could move, Glorfindel had her against his chest, not letting his new appendage slow his killing. He was glowing brightly from within; face shinning with the light of the trees from his childhood home of Aman. Orcs, not sure what to make of this live-fire, tried to keep their distance, but more than one had to make a choice, the shinning one or the many elves who answered the cry for help.
Glorfindel heard the whistles, feet moving before the first one ended. He flew around the curved expanse of the protection wall at Erestor's whistle. He knew where he left the two and hadn't planned on ranging far. He saw his beloved Arwen held fast by an orc almost the size of Azog and Bolg. Ignoring lesser orcs, he pushed through them faster than they could follow with weapons. As the bruit raised his scimitar for a killing blow, he swiped from behind, stepped around the falling beast and scooped Elrond's daughter to his side with his free arm. He determined to have more than words with the elf lord over this, and would take his anger out on Celeborn as well he decided and beheaded two more orcs within range of his long blade.
Elladan and Elrohir were instructed by their father to stay close to Arwen. In the heat of search and destroy, they forgot as their pursuits took them inside hollowed out structures rooting for anything fell. They worked as one, thoughts connected through their special bond that formed in the womb. Often they could see through the other's eyes, but only in battle. When it first happened on their second encounter with orcs, they tried unsuccessfully to repeat the experience, but never could. Their father told them he could do so with his brother under great duress, but it was severed when Elros chose a mortal life.
Word spread like a spark in dry tinder of Arwen's circumstances, reminding the twins of their pledge. They too backtracked in time to dispose the final two orcs and check their sister, eyes drilling her broken arm as if they could repair the damage before Adar returned. Elrohir was several steps ahead of his brother and Elladan, through his brother's eyes, saw his sister, arm hanging unnaturally and plastered against Glorfindel, who was sparring a terrified orc that couldn't escape. Elrohir's path took him to Glorfindel, while Elladan, now looking through his own eyes found his own victim.
As the last orc fell under Elladan's blade, Radagast, with Gandalf pushed into the coterie of elven bodies surrounding Arwen.
"There are orcs, orcs climbing to help the Nazgûl," Radagast cried before his furry friends completely skidded to a halt. When nobody moved, he shouted louder, "Is nobody going to assist?"
Gandalf raised a weary head and looked his friends over, gaze settling on Arwen holding her right arm to her breast. "Radagast, find Lord Celeborn. He will go. These won't leave an injured family member, nor should they." He rose and almost fell out of the basket. Erestor reached to help him stand on wobbly legs.
Radagast looked within himself and gave his rabbits a mental picture of where the Lord was and they bounded off.
Celeborn found a group of goblins climbing walls to rafters. With a swipe of his hand, the creatures fell backwards to the stone floor. He waded into the midst, two swords swinging in rhythm. He heard fighting behind him and spared one glance over his shoulder. The sons of Halung were making heads roll and Thráin was impressive for a dwarf. Soon a pile of bodies were left in place to rot as they moved outside.
"My Lord," Rúmil addressed Celeborn. "We fear Lady Arwen has been attacked as distress whistles came from her location. We came to tell you and also that the twins have returned to her."
"Good," Celeborn snarled and then shot back with a long jump. "They should never have left her side." He finished speaking as Radagast's out of control hoppers all but tangled in their lines as they skidded to a sudden stop.
"Celeborn," Radagast's high voice called over screams of dying orcs and goblins. "A band of orcs is attempting to join the Nazgûl. They are going up the west side of the tower."
Celeborn's long silver hair floated behind him as he turned and raced off, the three brothers on his heels.
Thráin thought about going, then had another thought and jumped onto the sled. Standing he looked back to Radagast, "Take me up to the skywalk joining the two towers. There's something I need ta look for."
Radagast gave instructions mentally to his hares and within a minute they were perched on the narrow stone walkway.
Thráin pointed to a door on the far side guarded by two stone gargoyles, tongues stretched from gaping fanged jaws. "Watch my back," he yelled as in a single bound, he jumped off the sled and was through the door.
Radagast gripped his staff tightly and looked around for orcs or even Nazgûl. Inside, he heard flint striking and a single candle was lit. All he could see was shadows on the wall as Thráin shuffled through objects that clanged as they were tossed aside. "What are you looking for?" Radagast shouted.
"My weapons. Ahhh, here they are." There was silence as Thráin buckled his battle armor on once again. It was loose on his too thin frame, but felt wonderful all the same. He flipped open a small chest he knew to hold ancient riches. Inside were coin from the first age and gems mined from the richest veins of Nogrod and an assortment of elvish jewels. He slammed it closed and carried it from the armory and placed it in the sled. "Be right back," Thráin uttered as he disappeared inside once again. This time he returned with an armload of weapons, which he let go of in a haphazard manner and they spread out across the bottom of the sled.
Radagast looked at the dwarf, now dressed properly for war with his armor and helmet in place. Also, he was wearing an assortment of weapons crafted from the mines of Erebor and two battle axes graced his back from their pockets that was part of the body armor.
"I'm going after Celeborn. Take all this ta safety. If I come back, I'll explain."
"King Thráin, are you sure?" Radagast looked uncertain he should follow Thráin's instruction.
Thráin raised his axe and waved it as he ran off. Radagast needed Gandalf's advice on his next task and headed back to where he left his fellow wizard.
Battle for king of the hill was over and Sauron vanquished to Mordor once again. Saruman had a strange light in his eyes and after telling Galadriel to leave Sauron to him, he no longer felt compelled to assist the elves. He rushed away to his horse and Isengard. He needed his palantir to commune with the evil lord.
Watching him disappear and leave him alone with Galadriel, Elrond looked around for re-embodied Nazgûl. Like their master, they too were gone. He knew they couldn't fly without aid over that long of distance and figured they might attack again. He placed his hand on Galadriel's head, still resting on his leg. "It's not safe here. The Nazgûl will return and are momentarily without leadership. It won't take the Witch-king long to regroup them." He sheathed Hadhafang and picked her up. Unlike when she carried Mithrandir, who was stiff from being in one position too long, she was limp and her head fell against his shoulder. Fear gripped him that she expended way too much energy and would fade, go to the halls of waiting or sail and leave him alone to carry the burden of the rings. Mithrandir's ring was the weakest and he wasn't elven so only had limited use of Narya. Elrond hurried down the twisted steps, hoping he didn't have to fight, as he too was exhausted.
Celeborn ran lightly up the incline catching the slower orcs with ease. The orc last in line didn't suspect anything. His head thudding to the stone caused the next orc to look back. All it saw was a wave of silver hair and glint of a blue glow emanating over a white bladed sword. Its weapon dropping to stone alerted the rest and they turned to battle the four elves. The narrow path made the fight, Celeborn versus one orc after another. Haldir was itching to get into the fray and made a decision to leave the path and turned his brothers back to find a way around and attack from the other side. Celeborn looked to have things well in hand.
As Celeborn backed them up, the single file path gave way to a small plateau and he was fighting all at once as they surrounded him. With gusto, he enjoyed each kill. He chopped an arm off one swinging a barbed mace. It howled in pain and backed off, looking for another weapon.
Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil jumped up and over a retaining wall and joined the fight; quickly disposing the few Celeborn hadn't yet killed.
The orc with the missing arm found a thin star shaped throwing knife on a fallen companion. He pulled it from the belt and raised his last arm for a dart to the back of the head of the elf that spoiled him. As his arm went forward, the only projectile was a stream of blood from his second missing hand. He looked around and almost missed the short figure except for gleaming armor. He dwarf was already swinging again and without anything to block the blow, the orc took a battle axe blade to his forehead. Thráin looked for another target and saw the elves standing amidst dead orcs. He joined Celeborn and his three shadows.
Before any could speak, Elrond appeared from the mist, the white of Galadriel's skirt fanning in an arch to the tops of his boots. She was completely limp and Celeborn's heart lurched in fear and pain at the sight. He danced over three dead orcs and placed his hand on Galadriel's brow letting her fëa know he was here. She opened her eyes and smiled into his concerned blue orbs. "He's gone," she whispered. She passed out again when she knew she was safe with her husband, her strength.
He sheathed his sword, Faenrúth, and relieved Elrond of his burden. He saw gratitude in his son-in-law's eyes. "You are weary, iôn-nín. How went it?" He walked with Elrond's hand on his shoulder as he was half a step behind and ready to take Galadriel back should Celeborn be needed in a fight. Haldir, Rúmil and Thráin led the way and Orophin followed with rear guard duty.
"The Nazgûl fought hard, but Galadriel didn't engage them. She saved herself for Sauron and it was she alone that drove him back to Mordor. I was fighting and trying to impart strength to her, but Saruman and I were fighting constantly and I dared not break concentration. Mithrandir wasn't able to help at all. Have you seen him?"
Celeborn shook his head.
Elrond continued, "We bought time. A hundred years; maybe less. Sauron is stronger and more focused since the War of The Alliance. I wonder if he senses the ring has woken."
"Galadriel does and so do I. The earth feels like when Sauron ruled it or a close facsimile. The ring has surfaced and we must be on the lookout for it," Celeborn wisely stated. He popped out a side entrance to the old city walls and started walking the perimeter to Awren's last location. He pondered whether he should warn Elrond and decided not to.
Elrond due to his state of weariness didn't feel his child's pain until he was in front of her. His grey eyes widened at Arwen's bandaged arm. His gaze quickly shifted to her four guardians. Not one would meet his gaze and all pretended to look at Galadriel. "I think I will strangle her while she can't fight back." Elrond hit Celeborn's shoulder in disgust and marched to Arwen. His healer's insight told him, Elrohir set her bones and imparted healing."
Celeborn laid his wife on the turf and looked around for an update from one of his captains. Not seeing anyone nearby, he sent Haldir and Orophin for a report. Rúmil, he sent for the riding horses, supplies and healers. He saw Mithrandir resting with his back against the stone wall and joined him, as did Thráin.
Gandalf opened his eyes when a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked into the one eye of Thráin and couldn't hold back a smile, albeit, a weak one. He rasped from a throat denied water for too long, "You look a lot better than when we last met at this fell place."
Thráin gave a silent laugh, shoulders shaking, "The elves didn't kill me, like I feared."
"They would have had me to answer to." Gandalf sobered and grasped Thráin's arm, "My friend, if I had known; you would not have rotted away a prisoner of Sauron all these long years. Thorin was convinced you lived; I should have listened to him. I avoided him until it was time. But I was planning for when he would retake the mountain after you disappeared. I pushed him into this foolish quest, Thráin. Over a year ago, I waylaid him at the Prancing Pony in Bree. It was there that I told him it was time. I then went to Thorin's Halls and tried to help him muster his dwarves. Most thought it to be a suicide mission. His kin stayed loyal and Óin read the portents that the birds were returning to the mountain. I'm afraid I was caught up in manipulating destiny for my own ends."
"Thorin can only blame himself for his actions. I taught him that much at least," Thráin mildly rebuked Gandalf. "Is that where you gave him the map and key?"
Gandalf grimaced, "No, something worse. I showed him a scrap of leather. In charcoal written in black speech was a bounty on his head. As one of the Company told me, the Goblin King said the same thing. A bounty on Thorin's head; just the head, nothing else." Gandalf looked Thráin in his eye, "I made a grave mistake sending your kin to Erebor. There is an army on their way led by Azog."
"So that is what Galadriel saw." Celeborn, who was standing beside Thráin, spoke up.
Gandalf looked up at him. "What did she see?"
"Dragon fire; Lake-town burning; men fleeing to Dale; five armies at the base of the Lonely Mountain; Thranduil fighting for his life."
"I have to get to Dale and warn them." Gandalf started to struggle up when Celeborn stopped him with his own hand against a shoulder. He slumped back into position. "Saruman stopped by here and said he had business in Isengard before rushing off. I could use some of his wisdom right now," Gandalf grumbled.
"I always thought yours far superior to his," Celeborn retorted. "The healers are almost here with Miruvor. We could all use some. The ride to Dale will be long and fast and I am taking my Galadhrim Warriors. I cannot leave my idiot cousin to fight alone."
Gandalf looked at him in surprise. "You aren't taking the lady with us, are you?"
"No, she and Arwen will return to Lothlórien and rest. When I return, my wife will be ready to divulge her reasoning for allowing my only daeriell this insane trip."