The many sets of metal armor had seemed heavy when they had first been shown to him, but when Kiran had put them on he wondered at how light they were. Over his figure, he wore a grey cloak and carried the hawk, the symbol of Hunvel, as his banner. At his side was his trusty old sword, though the Elves had insisted on making a few repairs to the rusting blade.
He found his place in the ranks of Elves next to Kiarton. Turning to his friend, he managed a smile. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Aye friend, I am ready," Kiarton stared grimly forward. "I am honored to fight beside you." He smiled a gravely and the bleak wind blew his red hair back. As the sun rose in the east, he felt his eyes glaze over and the blood rush to his ears. "Because this is my place," he whispered, and turned his face skywards, as if his mother were there to hear is words.

"I know I am ready," Amdireth said solemnly to the both of them. She grasped her sword tighter, flexing her fingers. She had not fought for a very long time and was praying that she still possessed the skills. She turned to Kiran and Kiarton.
"If anything happens, I want you both to know that you've been great friends, though I have not known you long," she said, her white tresses glinting gold in the sun. "Especially you," she added, looking to Kiarton. "You welcomed me among your friends, though I was deceitful. I thank you for that." She embraced both of them tightly.

Ahéawan closed her eyes for a moment and tightened her grip on her blade, feeling the familiar steel between her gloved hands. She, being a seasoned fighter, was near the front of the battlefield, helping to oversee the preparations being made. The Elves surrounding her were full of tension; she could feel it in the air and see it in their eyes. Though she knew little of the history between Hunvel and their offenders, she knew that this battle would be a great one, a battle to end all things. And, looking around at how few Elves there were to fight, it was not hard to guess how things would end.
Sheathing her blade, Ahéawan continued in aiding the archers prepare. She caught the eyes of Leeum, who was working a short distance away, and they both shared a grim smile. The Elf was no fighter, but she loved him for his strong and willing spirit. For all of the Elves there that were willing to sacrifice all for those they loved.
The sun rose behind the clouds and cast a shadow over the land, reflecting the spirits of those that prepared for battle below. Sighing deeply, Ahéawan cast her eyes to the north, the expected site of the future battle. Most of the preparations had been made, and the Elves were as ready to fight as they would ever be. All that was left to do now was wait. Wait to die, wait to live, wait for an absolution that would only come from fighting against impossible odds for those they loved.

Hiranneth was in a room full of able bodied Elf women who were to be stationed on one of the garrison towers. Her armor was light, but her heart was heavy, so she dragged her feet. She looked down at her sword, the very sword the stranger Elf had given her long ago, before her journey to save Kiran and Kiraton. She picked the sword up and placed it slowly beside her.

Sighing, Hiranneth left the room and went out. Her eyes met the very large group of warriors before her. Their eyes were cast toward a field that lay in the east. She looked out also, knowing the place would be a final resting place for many Elves and friends.
The high Elf came along side her. He placed his large hand on her petite shoulder and called out to the army, "Victory shall be ours! No oaths have you taken, but you fight for the future of this good land." He then turned to Hiranneth and asked, "As heir to the throne, will you please blow the horn of Hiraniel?"
Hiranneth turned around and saw before her and very large horn, adorned in fine silver and gold. The whole world seemed silent as if waiting for her. She took it up and with every bit of strength blew into it. The sound was mellow and caused a great roar from the Elven army. Their cheers caused Hiranneth to cry, for she knew she had sent them to their deaths.

Along the horizon of a rising sun came the army of the Morenne Wraiths. It was vast and seemed to cover the world with darkness. Each section of the army was comprised of at least 100 Wraiths and a leader riding a warg and possessing a large blade more deadly than that of its troops. Each troop also had a troll, large and hungry for flesh. The army of Wraiths halted upon the hill of the valley and cried in unison, "The crown shall never touch her head!" As they continued their battle cry, they descended on the small army of Hunvel.

Kiran watched as the first Elves took aim with their strong bows and brought down many of the oncoming enemies. Still, they did not waste their arrows and the armies soon clashed with the sounds of sword ringing.
He drew his sword and in the light saw that there were fresh Elven scripts etched upon the blade. They were runes of protection and luck, but it was up to him to use the blade well. Fighting was something he had never been good at. In the last days before the battle he had trained near to exhaustion. The Elves taught him more than his father, an expert swordsman, ever did.
As the confusion of fighting came upon them, he became separated from Kiarton and Amdireth. Many foes rushed to him and were met with the bite of his blade. What he lacked in skill, he made up for with cunning and speed. He forced his eyes to never stray from his oncoming foes to the ground, for fear that he might see one of his companions fallen there.

Kiarton was given new energy from the blowing of the horn of Hunvel. He stood on a large rock and launched his golden lance with precision, bringing down the Wraiths before they touched him. But soon the combat became closer, so he drew his long sword.
As he fought with a waning confidence, he caught a glimpse of Kiran, fighting fiercely. Kiarton smiled grimly and ran towards a newfound foe with regained determination. The Wraith backed up in fear, but met Kiarton's blade none the less.
The Wraiths, although intimidating, were no match for the shear proficiency of the Elves, and fell quickly, but the Elves were low in number compared to the daunting enemy. Hunvel blood was spilt.

Ahéawan felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the battle gave way, both sides charging to meet with clashing swords in the center of the field. From atop her horse, she saw both Elves and Wraiths fall on her right and left, dropping like flies, and still she rode through the carnage. Her breath was short and her eyes blazing as she unsheathed her sword, charging toward a Wraith leader atop a warg. In the split second before her blade plunged into the Wraith's flesh, amidst all her anger and sadness, a single thought penetrated Ahéawan's mind so forcibly it was almost not her own: This is the last time I will raise arms against foes to fight for the ones I love.

Amdireth slew the Wraiths swiftly, not looking at their fallen forms or those of the Elves. She was slashed on her right forearm, but in the heat of the battle, she didn't even notice. The sun flashed on her sword as it swung through the air in sweeping arcs, and she caught Kiarton's eye as she passed him. She nodded at him and spun around, laying to rest another Wraith. She was exhausted and the smell of blood and sweat and death was overpowering to her, but she drove herself on.
Hunvel would not fall.

Leeum was stationed in one of the garrison groups, but he wished to fight with his blade. The Wraiths were fierce and kept coming strong. His anger grew and secretly left his post, hoping to find Ahéawan.
He ran amongst the Elves and pushed his way through, killing Wraiths as he went. When his eyes caught sight of Ahéawan, his heart rose and he called out to her. "Ahéawan!" He cut the throat of a Wraith about to strike her. " Ahéawan," he said as he came to her side, "I will go with you until the end, even if we meet ours today."

Ahéawan stiffened as a long blade shot past her and stabbed the Wraith she was fighting in the neck. She turned around quickly, bloody sword held up in defense, and met the loving face of Leeum. She smiled at him as he spoke and felt a tear stream down her sweaty face as the world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. She looked into Leeum's eyes, wanting to return the sentiment but not able to speak. Her eyes shone with love, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out, to embrace him, to melt into his arms forever. However, a whizzing arrow shooting by inches from her head shocked her back to the present. With a grim smile at Leeum, Ahéawan took up her sword again and charged.

Hiranneth watched in horror as the Wraith army came upon them. Many were brought down by the arrows of the Elves on the garrison towers, but not enough. All she could do was stand there, watching. Her limbs were numb and pained as she thought of her friends down on the battlefield.
Her eyes caught the sight of the Wraiths most near the rear, riding over the hill and standing, watching, and laughing with delight.
Her thoughts became angered and she began to think of all the injustice, death, and destruction they caused. The memories of them became too much and suddenly she gasped as if to escape. As she did so, one of the Wraiths jumped in pain and rubbed his arm. The other Wraiths looked confused, for now blood flowed from his arm. Hiranneth was stunned. Had she done this?
She focused again on the Wraith and he jumped back, looking around for an arrow or sword, but none was found. Hiranneth laughed; this was a great new twist of events. She knew that the Wraiths were too powerful to control, so she turned her sights to something of smaller mind. The trolls were coming now, and they were merciless.
With all her strength she focused upon the troll and suddenly became a part of him. Clearly his brain capacity was much different than that of a Morenne Wraith.
She led the troll along with the other trolls, then turned and took two out. The Wraiths cried out in rage as the trolls' blood fell on them. Hiranneth turned her troll to the nearest Wraiths and took them out with the troll's mace. In just minutes, the troll had killed over 600, but then was taken down by angry Wraiths. Hiranneth called out to Kiran, Please hear me. Perhaps you can do the same with the troll.

Upon hearing Hiranneth's plea in his mind, Kiran was startled to see that she had been using her mind to control one of the trolls. He focused his mind on an oncoming troll, brutish and tall with an ugly face and blank eyes that betrayed his lack of intelligence as much as his strategy of smashing everything in his path did.

The troll blinked in confusion as Kiran's presence entered his mind, taking control of it with ease. The rest of the army was now coming in great waves toward them, and the troll, under Kiran's command, lumbered up through them, shoving aside the Wraiths with ease. Those not in the brute's path faltered as they strove to both fend off the Elves and take the troll down.
Kiran, caught up in the success of his plan, took no notice of the Wraith King until he was behind him, one gnarled hand upon Kiran's throat. He dropped his sword as his hands flew to his neck, clawing at the tight grip of the wraith.
"So you think you are wise to use your minds and set our own against us?" the Wraith asked, leaning in so that he could whisper this in Kiran's ear. His voice was pleasant, as though greeting a long-lost friend, and that sickened him all the more. In a flash, Kiran grabbed a sword that was stuck nearby, an Elven blade that lay near a fallen warrior, and struck out at the Wraith's hand. Kiran gasped as his breath was returned to him. The Wraith spent but seconds nursing his wound before facing him again.

When Hiranneth saw another troll rise up against the Wraiths, no doubt at the command of Kiran, she let out an elated cry. But her joy was quickly overcome when she saw the dark shadow of the Wraith King coming for him, slowly, like a plague. She took her sword up and ran down the garrison stairs into the heat of the battle. Her eyes fought desperately to find him, then she saw them. The King seemed hurt, and Kiran lay catching his breath nearby. She pushed through until she came to Kiran side. Her heart was full of anger. All the battle around her seemed to fade into a dream and all that was left was Kiran, her, and the Wraith.
She steadied herself and held her ground. With power and authority she spoke to the Wraith. "You have taken many. You have brought upon these good people death and corruption. But as long as I still draw breath, you will not have these lands!"
She held aloft the sword of Hunvel, the beacon of truth. "Surely you remember this," she said, lifting her sword higher. "My grandfather wielded this very blade, and so shall I!"
With that Hiranneth plunged the blade at the King, but he moved just in time. A low, demonic laugh could be heard from his endless black face. "You dare defy me?" he asked as he picked her up with one hand. "Then you will die," his hissed as he began to squeeze her throat. As Hiranneth felt her life leaving her, she knew she was helpless to stop him. What can be done now?

Kiran watched as the Wraith now grasped Hiranneth. He tried to scream, to stop the Wraith from killing her, but his voice caught in his throat, now rimmed by burns where the Wraith had held him. He looked around in desperation for someone to help, but no one was there.
Turning again to the wraith, he grasped the Elven sword in one hand and took up his old sword, which lay nearby, in the other. Quickly, he snuck up behind the Wraith King and managed to stab him fiercely in the leg. The Wraith King cried out in pain and dropped Hiranneth to the ground.
"Fight me," Kiran gasped. "Leave them alone."
"As you wish," the Wraith said, his malicious red eyes shining with pleasure and bloodlust. "I will defeat you first."
The two elves were caught up in their sparring match as Kiran and Leeum watched. Picking up their techniques wasn't too easy for him, but Kiran felt like he was slowly earning nonetheless.
"Is there anything else I must learn?" Kiran asked.
"There is one thing that I have not spoken of before," Leeum said. "The Wraith King is a master of illusions. Although it is unlikely that he would try the technique here, you must remember that anything he shows you is not real. You must not believe it. Keep a firm grip on your reality."
Kiran nodded, dimly wondering what horrors could be shown to him that would make him forfeit his reality.
Little did he know that he would soon find out.

Kiarton's emerald eyes flashed. The Wraith King, Kiran! Without thinking, he turned quickly, took up his lance, and threw it with all his might. The golden lance whistled through the air. Kiarton hoped it was not too late, for the King was bearing down on Kiran. But the lance hit true, and Kiarton saw the King wince in pain as he whirled around to face his attacker.

As Kiarton reached for his sword, he saw out of the corner of his eye a black dagger whizzing toward him. It caught him in the shoulder, and Kiarton immediately felt poison running through his veins. His knees collapsed, as he stared blankly ahead, horrified. Gasping for breath, the world blackened around him. As his vision blurred, the screams and shouts that sounded throughout the battlefield became distant. His gold lance did not return this time.

Despite his impaired sight, Kiarton was sure that he saw someone, a figure, all in white. "Mother?" he breathed.

"My child." The woman in white picked up the lance, and as she glided forward, Kiarton smiled. "I am free, free of this loneliness, Mother." He fell to his side, and the spirit lovingly placed the lance into his cold hand.

Amdireth saw the flash of the dagger as it shot through the air and struck Kiarton in the shoulder. She screamed as he slumped to the ground, unconscious or dead, she couldn't tell.
She abandoned the battle, her bloodstained sword clasped tightly in her hand, and sprinted toward him. When she reached him, she dropped the blade and fell to her knees, gathering the young man up in her arms.
"Kiarton?" she asked, tears streaming down her face.

Kiarton's eyes were blurred, but he saw someone's face. Amdireth! He managed a smile. He saw a tear slide down her cheek, and Kiarton gripped his lance more closely. "Tell...tell the others that I'll miss them." She shook her head as if to tell him that she wouldn't need to, he'd manage. But the poison was taking effect. Kiarton's smile vanished and a peaceful silence took its place. The wind seemed to whisper goodbye as the hand Amdireth held went limp.

Amdireth cried out in grief as Kiarton spirit left. It was almost visible, and as Amdireth looked skywards, she could swear she saw two smiling faces, their hands clasped as the breeze blew them away.

"No," she whispered, pulling Kiarton's body against her more tightly and laying her face in his fiery hair. "You were just a lad…Just a lad."
Amdireth kissed his brow and gently laid his body on the earth, picking up her sword. With renewed rage, she sprang to her feet and began slaying Wraiths in a fit of anger, not paying attention as she cut their enemies down. Her sword flashed back and forth, tears of rage and mourning falling down her cheeks the whole time.

As Hiranneth fell to the ground, her throat burned and she gasped for air. Breath's cool relief came to her quickly, and she lay still for a moment, thanking the Valar for her life. She suddenly came to reality again and looked up, to see Kiran facing off with the Wraith King. She tried to scream his name, but her voice did not come. What was happening?
Her eyes drifted toward another sight, the scene of Kiraton and Amdireth. The redhead lay still on the ground, and Amdireth sobbed over him. She cried aloud and tried to go to Amdireth, but couldn't move. Hiranneth laid back and sobbed into the earth.

As another wraith fell before her, Ahéawan wiped her sweaty face and spared a glance at Leeum, who fought a small distance away. The Elf stood still, looking worried, off to the east where he had last seen Kiran and Kiarton.
"What is wrong?" Ahéawan asked concerned, keeping one eye on Leeum and the other wary ahead of her.
"I feel the Wraith King. I feel his hatred," he said quietly. He turned to face Ahéawan, his eyes clouded over with an unreadable expression. "I fear that our friends are in danger."
Ahéawan felt her heart stop in her chest. "We must go to them," she said. She motioned for Leeum to join her atop her horse and the two of them sped off toward the east.

The Wraith King's eyes bored into Kiran, and some form of sense told him that he must not look away. He heard a cry of one at the edge of death, and despite his will, he looked away from the piercing red eyes.
For a moment, the world about him flickered, and then it all changed. Where he looked, instead of seeing Hiranneth and Amdireth and Kiarton's fallen body, he saw the city of Hunvel in the distance. Smoke rose into the sky and red flames licked the trees. As it fell to ruin, Elves ran from it and into the waiting army that stood before the city's gates.

When the slaughter was through, Kiran saw the faces of his friends counted among the dead that lay there. Then the Wraith King stepped before him again. He was limping and stood in an odd fashion, injured by both Kiarton and Kiran, but still appeared majestic in his darkness.
"You are so noble to put their lives before your own," the King said with a great deal of sarcasm. "But you could not help them. You are but a weakling, never fit to hold a sword. And now that they are dead, you must fight for yourself."
No, this isn't real, Kiran thought. It isn't! "I haven't failed!"
"Oh really? Because it looks like it is you against me now, and you are unarmed. I, on the other hand, have this fine sword. Once I have killed you, I will have the run of the city."
A flicker of reality struck Kiran, and through a great shroud of disbelief he saw the real world. He saw the ongoing battle. The darkness had not taken over. In that instant, he reached for a weapon and, as though it was called to his hand, one came. He thrust it deep into the Wraith's stomach.
There was another flicker running through the lands about him. He was back in reality. The Wraith lay on the ground, in a pool of dark blood. The wound, Kiran was amazed to see, had been inflicted by Kiarton's lance.

The wound that the gold lance had made seemed to be growing larger, and black blood dripped as the sheer pain made the Wraith King fall to the ground. After having had many wounds inflicted, the King dropped his sword.

Ahéawan urged her horse faster, feeling the urgency of Leeum as he held on behind her. The two of them raced through the battlefield, rushing by Wraiths before they realized what had passed them, in the direction that Leeum felt was right.
After a few minutes of hard riding, Leeum cried to stop. At once Ahéawan could see that this was indeed their intended place. Time seemed to stop as she took in all that was happening before her. Amdireth caught her sight first, swinging her sword bravely at the nearby Wraiths, and Hiranneth, motionless on the ground at the feet of Kiran who was engaged in a tense battle with the Wraith King. Ahéawan felt her sharp intake of breath pierce her heart as she looked further and saw Kiarton, lying still on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
As she jumped off her horse, Ahéawan cried out and rushed to him. She laid a hand on his chest and felt no breath. Choking on a sob, she closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
Laying a hand on the boy's forehead and wishing her final blessings upon him, Ahéawan turned back into the heat of the battle to see Leeum advancing toward the Wraith King, a hardened expression on his face the likes of which Ahéawan had never seen before.
She cried out, "Leeum, no!"

Hiranneth allowed her eyes to look up as the world seemed to whirl around her. The Wraith King had been injured by both Kiran and Kiarton's last effort before death.

She got up slowly and felt someone coming from behind. It was Leeum. Ahéawan's cry echoed behind him.
Hiranneth grabbed the Elf's leg and pulled him back. He stopped short and turned to her.
"Please," he said, "If I should die, let me do it in honor. For Kiarton at least." Tears began to stream onto his dirty, sweating face.
Hiranneth stood up with all her effort and took his hands in hers. "Let me do this for him. I feel it is time." With a grim face, she withdrew the sword of Hunvel. The blade caught the light of the appearing sun and caused all to turn to its view. With might in her stride she brandished the sword and lay to ruin the mighty Wraith King. She cut off his head and watched as his body pulsed with the last of life. Then like a dark soul, a scream left him and his body went up in smoke. The King was no more.
Hiranneth felt suddenly sick and fell to the ground. Her head swam and her hands shook with violence. She began to cry and muttered to herself, "It is over. It is done."

Kiran knelt next to Hiranneth. He put his arms around her and ran his hand through her hair, trying his best to comfort her. Tears, both from exhaustion and relief, ran down his face.

All around them, the fighting was ending and the dark forces were retreating. Without a leader, they ran wildly, their defenses dropped. Elves pursued them, swords and knives at the ready. It was a gruesome scene. But it was over.