Alphindil waited until the very last of the hour before untying his horse and joining the end of the battalion, he saw no one come for the friend of his horse, or bring him word of Celebrin's decision. He was angry, yet more sorrowful that he had hoped foolishly for his friend to join him beneath the banner of Erenion Gil-galad. He sent the horse away with a page and rode out with the last battalion not looking back to stop himself from crying, knowing he had no farewell with his friend and there was no time to do so now, for the fires of the battle were already within the sight of the great army. He felt a sense of foreboding; for in truth this was the first time he had not been at Celebrin's side in battle, for at those times they were only skirmishes. His heart and spirit fell, leaving him knowing he would die that day, without a farewell, or a last look upon his dearest friend, who was more than family to him. One of his comrades who knew of their friendship spoke rather proudly, though meaning to comfort him,
"Gaereledh, be comforted to know he is behind safe walls, and does not go to certain doom. Such large battles are best fought by the Noldor, rather than the Dark-elves, they know not how to fight in such ways."
" Hold still your tongue my friend, or do you not remember how the Noldor relied on their help when our doom was fully wrought."
These words came from Alphindil as quickly as he had that angered thought. He would have said more but a cloaked figure spoke before he had the chance to,
"Be at peace Soldier of Erenion, your friend needs no defending. For he is here to defend himself."
The cloaked figure of Celebrin removed his hood and revealed his face hale and dark, prepared for battle, his eyes made him look fey as one going to death, yet his features were softened by a wiry smile upon his face.
" As for you Noldo, do not easily forget how you ran from me and my band of riders when you tried to attack the refugees of Balar. Or is it possible that one of the Noldor so easily forgot the dreaded sickle of Doriath."
And it was then that the others in the line beheld the scar on the right side of Celebrin's face, forming a tear-shaped sickle upon his face that now grew dreadful in the light of his eyes and a dark twilight gem shone on his breast that did not show the gilded armor of the army of Gil-galad but rather the light armor the sea-folk wore, which was a shirt of mail that covered a jerkin and light boots for riding. Such attire was normally worn in sea battles, of which were few, since neither Morgoth nor Sauron used a naval force greatly. While this attire might have seemed inappropriate for grand scale battle, Celebrin made up for it in his demeanor and fey mood. The others were quickly silenced, and those who indeed remembered the attack upon the refugees lowered their heads. The two companions slowed their pace to take private conversation.
"I thought you remained behind in Mithlond, I thought little of you, forgive me."
"There is no need for forgiveness my friend, I do not ride beneath the banner of Erenion this day, to that I hold true, as you can see from my own armor."
"And for that I now wish that you had stayed in Mithlond, for now my thoughts will become true, one of us will perish this day. I will not loose you so easily...return to Mithlond while there still is time."
" That I cannot do...I have been set free of the service of Cirdan, for now it seems. And to return would mean more dishonor than leaving ever did."
"Then you have become a piriah in the eyes of your own people for my sake, that I cannot bear."
"I am not welcome there now, this is true, though I promised to my kin that I would lend my services to Celeborn of Doriath only, and that is where I ride now. Not with you beneath the banner, but with you on my way to my Lord."
"Then you have found a way around this ill fate, as I suspected you would. And I am glad for it, though still fearful for your life."
"Do not be, have more confidence in our skill than what you are putting in, we are together at the very least, be glad in that for now."
Alphindil knew his friend well enough to know when he wished to no longer despair, nor to think of the future which now was apparent to all as grim. They marched towards distant fires that burned brighter as the day aged, and they eastern wind though chill brought with it blinding heat, that which tired the eyes of all that rode on that road. Celebrin smelled the burning of wood and cursed beneath his breath, for he knew this burning was out of malice and hatred, and the wind of heat only made his blood boil the more. His breathe quickened and his eyes grew more filled with rage, and they shoe bright as two stars with the sinking of the sun.
It was not until the ending of three days and nights that the first signs of an advancing army were seen, for the Legion of Mithlond reached the very borders of the burning wood where fire began to eat away at the forest that lay East of the Havens. Yet beyond that many miles were seen of burnt land, indeed as far as the eyes of the elves could reach. In their hearts now all were loathe to behold such precious and ancient wood defiled and burnt to nothing but grass and tree stump a land of beautiful grassland and river valley turned to nothing but a rocky desert land that held no hope for life. The ashes let loose streams of smoke and then flew west mournfully, as if the very tears of Arda reached out to the legion, pleading for them to save it's fragile beauty. The hearts of all beneath the banner of Gil-galad burned with the woods and they sought out the culprits of such crime and malice. And they found them; a band of some thousand orcs cutting the western edges of the forest that were not already burnt, or lighting trees that proved resistant to their first torches. They screamed in their accursed and uncouth tongue, shouting orders and beating upon any that lay killed, wanderers and travelers, who had not made the journey behind the walls of Mithlond. Then the general of the legion of Mithlond cried out to the band of orcs,
"Fear!! Foes of the woods and its keepers, vengance has come for thee!"
and the standard bearer let out the horn call of the attack that rung out and echoed among all the burning valley. As quickly as they had arrived the legion of Mithlond raced down in anger and hatred upon the band and the archers upon their steeds let loose arrows before them, and it shone as lightning shines before the onset of a storm. And caught off guard, the band of foes fled before the rushing storm of gold and blue, shimmering with stars upon their banners, and were hewn down or laid flat beneath the feet of the steeds. Yet the attack was rushed that day and out of the legion that left Mithlond that morning eight would not return to their homes, pierced by arrows or broken beneath the weight of their fallen steeds. After the band had fled over the eastern edge of the valley and into the east towards the sound of ongoing battle and the clash of steel reknewed the General called the host together and rallied them into their lines again, yet the garrison of Alphindil had lost it's valiant captain and were joined to the host of the General, who then noticed a warrior upon a white horse who did not wear the gold of the Noldorin host, nor did he wear the markings of the stars of Erenion, to this one he called out,
"Stranger, where is your armor, and your battalion."
To which the gray-cloaked warrior, covered in orc blood replied,
"I belong to no battalion of yours mighty General, though I now fight beside it, if only for a little while."
"I will have no unknown soldier, and one so lightly clad, fight in my host stranger, or die by my leading him into battle."
"You do not lead me General, nor does your King. I am sworn, no longer to any lord, and come by my free will, to guard that which I hold most dear."
The Unknown rider lifted his head and revealed the Sickle of Doriath, with the face of pale twilight in the beginnings of the world, upon which sat two stars filled with such fierce freedom that he looked as one with his fierce wild horse, whose mane flowed untamed in the wind. The sight of this rider showed doom in the eyes of the General; and in his prideful heart the Noldor found respect for the Teleri who now marched to certain doom and glory, to which he said,
"I shall not send you back to Mithlond, stranger, nor do I think you would return, but do not ride with that battalion, for you are not of it."
And with that he turned, yet the eyes of the twilit elf never left his mind, nor the look of shear doom written upon his face.
Alphindil witnessed this occur and was astonished to see such ferocity in the eyes of his friend, and in truth he was fearful of him and this doom that lay in him. The twain spoke no words to one another but rode behind the host and merely sat in one another's company, for what seemed like it would be their last moments. Silenced enveloped them until Alphindil spoke in a whisper,
"Mellon nin, these may be our last few moments together, and the doom of battle lies coldly upon my heart and I..."
His discourse was interrupted by the rising of Earindil in the sky; as they climbed over the high hill of that river valley that would descend into the borders of Eregion; and his friend of long years grasped his hand and held it tightly in his own. He then spoke in a voice hale and ancient, filled with so much memory and sorrow, yet valiant and filled with courage also,
"We now are upon the eve of battle, you and I, let us draw swords together, and never leave the other's side.", he then looked into his friend's hazel eyes and then said, "If you should fall I would not allow all the forces of Sauron to take what I hold most dear and I would fight until death itself take me to you in the halls of Mandos. Will you do the same for me?"
"I will."