Apologies for not updating for several months. My muse escaped me and took a vacation to Eru knows where.
This chapter is a bit of a blend of the movie-battle and the book-battle. Ex: Anarion dies a year before Sauron's downfall. Just small things like that.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this at all, nor would I even dare to claim to.
Morgoth studied the board carefully, planning his strategy against Tulkas. Even he had to grudgingly admit that Tulkas was frighteningly amazing in battle. He knew he would have to play cleverly, but he still had confidence that he would defeat the Alliance.
"Greetings, Dark One," said a laughing voice. Morgoth glanced behind him. There stood Tulkas, his golden hair lightly blowing in the wake of Manwë's winds. He had a smile on his face; he smiled at the thought of a challenge. "Let us see what you have come up with for our game." Manwë and Tulkas approached the boards, and Manwë began to explain the rules.
While Manwë softly spoke to Tulkas and Tulkas studied the boards, a third being came into the Void beside them. The figure was clad in a rich garb, covered with many detailed, minute creatures embroidered over every inch of cloth. There were Men, Elves, beasts, Balrogs, orcs, and trolls in the wonderful design. Even the slightest movement or rustle caused the finely-stitched creatures to move, seeming to dance with one another, regardless of species. Fish swam through the air to dance with birds, Men and Elves moved with orcs, and not even the Balrogs found themselves lacking a partner to swirl with in the dance of Time that was embroidered into the garment.
"I thought that I might watch," said the newcomer, eyeing the boards with interest. "It is not often that I witness with my eyes what I am to weave."
"Vairë," Morgoth said, giving a mock bow.
"Morgoth," Vairë the Weaver replied, giving an equally mocking nod. She made a small gesture with her hand, and a loom with a basket of threads appeared alongside the boards.
"No assisting Tulkas if you are to be here," Morgoth warned.
"I am aware of the rules- I have already woven them into a tapestry in the halls. This will be interesting," she said, and began to select threads to weave the approaching battle.
Manwë, satisfied that Tulkas was fully informed of all of the rules, stepped away from the boards. "I will leave you to your battle. May you fare well, Tulkas." Manwë vanished, his winds leaving with him. Tulkas smiled his fighting smile once more.
"Shall we begin?"
In response, Morgoth limped to the boards and flicked his fingers, unfreezing the image on the flat board. He created a bench out of the nothingness of the Void and sat, resting his bad leg. Tulkas remained standing, preferring to pace around and study the boards as he walked.
"Who shall have the first move?"
"There are no first moves until one of us sees something that we wish to manipulate," replied Morgoth, watching the board with the images. It showed the two armies marching towards each other. There was a grim look in the eyes of the soldiers of the Alliance as the armies drew closer. The orcs leered at them, calling out battle cries in the Black Speech. Morgoth felt a small burst of pride as he looked at the descendants of his first hideous creations.
Tulkas paid little attention to the images- he concentrated on the model. The marble figures had become living stone and moved as the beings in the images did. Soon the armies in the images drew their swords and charged, as did the figures on the model. Unlike the images, the figures did not appear to be fighting anything. They looked as though they were fighting air. Tulkas looked surprised for a moment (to Morgoth's pleasure) but quickly recovered when he recalled why this was so. The orc underlings and Alliance soldiers were not key players, so they did not appear. Tulkas concentrated for a moment and the common soldiers, Man, Elf, and orc, sprang onto the board. Morgoth nearly laughed aloud when he saw that Tulkas had lost sight of the Kings and the key players in the fray, but Tulkas gave them a golden sheen to make them stand apart from the commoners when he realized what had happened.
Morgoth began his attack as Tulkas began to work out his strategy. Morgoth's plan was to eliminate the Kings first, and then to move on to Elendil's sons, followed by the stronger warriors. The first step was to dispose of the personal guards of the Kings. Morgoth reached out with his thoughts, nudging the feeble minds of orc archers that were in range to shoot, subtly suggesting that they move their bows just the slightest bit left or right for a better target. Though no time passed in the Void, the final hours of the Siege passed, and soldiers surrounding Elendil and Gil-Galad began to fall.
Elendil drew a sharp breath as the bodyguard on his right fell, an orc-arrow sticking from his throat. The orcs were directing their fire at Gil-Galad and himself, but so far the orcs had missed them, instead hitting the guards on the sides. Elendil could not help but wonder if perhaps they were not aiming for him at all, as the guards were being shot methodically. There were few left, and they had enough problems fending off the onslaught of orcs, let alone arrows from ranks of archers. Elendil was unsure if his sons, who were fighting Sauron's armies together with a different group of bodyguards some distance away, noticed. He glanced over to Isildur to ensure that he was not hit, and then turned his attention to Anarion, who had managed to somehow become separated from his brother.
Suddenly Anarion stumbled backwards, blood trickling down his face. An arrow had grazed his temple. The orc Anarion had been fighting took advantage of his distraction and plunged his blade into a gap in his armor at the left arm. Anarion fell back and slashed at the orc, cutting off his arm. The orc roared in pain as Anarion stabbed his blade into his chest. The orc fell, but not before striking out wildly in hopes of wounding his enemy before his death. The orc's blade swung up towards Anarion's neck and slit his throat before he could defend himself.
"Anarion!" Elendil cried. He fought his way over to the still body, but his son was dead.
Morgoth smiled grimly. Although Anarion had not been the one he had been targeting, he was still pleased. One down, he thought to himself. Tulkas cursed himself for not seeing this attack and began to apply himself to defensive instead of offensive. He watched the orcs firing at Elendil and Gil-Galad carefully, and then touched Elendil's thoughts, letting the idea of lifting his shield drift across the mortal King's mind.
Elendil closed his son's eyes reverentially. He motioned to a few soldiers to remove his body so it would not be desecrated. There was nothing he could do, and he threw himself into the battle, weeping hot tears of sorrow and fury. Out of nowhere, a thought rose up in his mind: I must lift my shield! Elendil lifted it without a second thought and an arrow whistled through the air to thud into the shield. He had no time to wonder at how he knew what to do- the attack still raged on fiercely.
Morgoth grimaced. Tulkas had caught on to his game. Perhaps it was time to call Sauron out of his Tower. He probed the mind of his servant gently, attempting to plant a seed of thought,but found no need to provoke Sauron- he was already preparing to leave his Tower to attack. Morgoth merely had to wait for him to emerge for the real chaos to begin. He was not disappointed.
A sudden chill fell over the entire battlefield. Though the fight raged on, the cries of mourning and vengeance, the clash of sword and arrow upon shield, became muted. Elendil paused and looked towards the Dark Tower, dreading what he would see.
It was Him- the Lord of the Rings.
On the model, a piece taller than the rest emerged from the Tower. He began to make his way towards Elendil and Gil-Galad. None who stood in his way were left standing. Morgoth was pleased that his servant had grown so powerful, but was concerned at the same time. He wondered, upon his return to Arda, if he would have to find some way to control Sauron's power. Possibly, he mused, he could seize the Ring, giving him an even greater power: power over the Nine, the Three, and the Seven, while also putting Sauron back under his control.
Considering this, he watched the images carefully to make sure that Sauron was still steadily progressing.
Elendil knew that Sauron was heading straight for the heart of the battle and was prepared to meet the Dark Lord. He had suspected that He would emerge as soon as the battle had begun to tip in the Alliance's favor to create carnage and destruction. He had already killed many brave soldiers with his dreadful power. Many others who had been unfortunate to be in his path were not dead but horribly mutilated. Their cries of pain were quickly silenced by nearby orcs who were mad with bloodlust.
Removing Narsil from the chest of an orc he had stabbed and moving to stand beside Gil-Galad, Elendil prepared for battle with the Dark Lord. They were not long in waiting.
Sauron soon broke through the ranks, his mace in hand and the Ring gleaming on his finger, the fine lines of writing visible from the heat of his hand. He looked towards Elendil and the Elf-king in a challenge. Gil-Galad cried out, "Elbereth!" and leapt forward, Aiglos pointed directly towards a gap in the Dark Lord's armor. Elendil followed, brandishing Narsil and calling the names of his kingdoms, but repeating one name over and over: "Anarion! Anarion!"
Sauron deftly blocked the blows of both Elendil and Gil-Galad. Swinging his mace, He brought it about to smash Gil-Galad in the head. The Elf-king dodged the blow and once more thrust the gleaming point of Aiglos towards Sauron. He blocked once more and sung the mace again. This time he did not miss. He struck Gil-Galad in the very center of his chest. He was flung against the boulders strewn about. Elendil stared in horror as the light of Gil-Galad's eyes faded.
Thus distracted, he did not see how Sauron's mace came back around. All he felt was a terrible pain, the sensation of being thrown backwards before coming harshly to a stop. Blood flowed from a gash on his head, feeling hot as it trickled down his face. The last thing he heard was his son crying out before everything went black.
Morgoth took a moment to glance up at Tulkas. A rare glint of anger and bitterness was in his eye. He looked shaken, having lost two kings in two blows. Not accustomed to defeat, I see, Morgoth thought in a vicious amusement. He ignored Tulkas and turned back to the game. All there remained to do was to massacre the rest of the Alliance and get rid of Elendil's son.
Isildur fought his way over to his father's prone body. He felt for a pulse, and felt his heart sink when he found none. A shadow passed over him. He turned to see Sauron standing over him, his mace poised to swing down.
Morgoth was intently watching the images so intently that he did not notice Tulkas. He was looking at the board, a spark of hope in his eyes. He looked at the figure of Sauron standing over Isildur and noted Elendil's blade. He quickly touched Isildur's mind and planted the images of the Ring on Sauron's finger and Narsil in his mind, hoping that Isildur would put two and two together in time.
Isildur saw the Ring on Sauron's finger, the red letters shining beautifully, tempting him. It sang a song of power and might in his mortal heart and awoke an alluring voice from deep within him. It called to him. He needed that Ring!
Isildur reached for his father's sword. Sauron slammed his foot down upon the blade, the force of the blow causing it to splinter, leaving Isildur with merely a hilt shard. Isildur did not pay mind to that- a hilt shard was enough for his purposes. He swung the shard towards the Ring, the strange lightness of the blade causing him to put in far more power into the swing than was necessary. He cut Sauron's finger cleanly off, the Ring falling to the ground along with it.
The armies, both of the Alliance and of Sauron, watched in bewilderment as Sauron's body disintegrated into nothing.
Tulkas gave a cheer of victory and laughed. "You have lost, O Dark One," he said mockingly. "Now you must give up all claim on Arda and leave it be forever!"
Vairë the Weaver, who had been working industriously the entire time, beckoned Tulkas over to show him the final product. It was a meticulously-detailed weaving that depicted Isildur on the ground with the hilt shard of Narsil in his hand, waiting to strike the looming figure of Sauron. Tulkas looked at it admiringly. "Your finest work yet!" he proclaimed. "Although I daresay that some of Morgoth's defeats were equal to this," he said, throwing a glance over at Morgoth. Vairë said nothing, a troubled look on her face. Morgoth had not said anything yet as he normally would, and she wondered why.
She left her loom and crossed over to the tables where Morgoth was sitting. "What are you hiding?" she asked him.
Morgoth looked up at them, a knowing smile on his face. "You have not won."
"Yes we have!" Tulkas exclaimed. "Sauron has been defeated."
"Defeated, yes, but not destroyed. We are to play until Sauron is destroyed, and he is not."
"Were you blinded by staring at the Silmarils for too long? Did you not see his destruction?"
"I saw his defeat," Morgoth emphasized, "not his destruction. When he created the Ring, he poured much of himself into It. His life is bound to the Ring. As long as the Ring exists, he remains alive. Diminished, yes, but alive."
"Then where is the Ring now?"
"Look to your brave King of Gondor."
Tulkas crossed over to the boards. The Alliance was fighting off the last of the orcs, but Isildur did nothing to aid them. He simply stared at the golden Ring in the palm of his hand, paying no heed to the fact that it was burning the flesh.
"He won't get rid of It," Morgoth commented. "It's too strong for his mortal mind. There is too much of Sauron in It. He will keep It and become twisted."
"I'll make him destroy It!"
"You can't!" Morgoth said sharply, standing. "It is a rule! You cannot force a person to act against their own will!" There was a glint of triumph in Morgoth's dark eye.
Tulkas was furious, a rare thing. "You cheated!"
"I did not," Morgoth said calmly. "I abided by the rules. I did not cheat. There is no rule that says I cannot withhold key information."
Vairë touched Tulkas's arm. "I'm afraid he is right, for once."
"If I am right, then we must continue playing. Will you keep playing, Tulkas, or have you had enough and want somebody to take over for you?"
Tulkas was about to respond when Vairë shook her head at him. "I will play. I feel that this will be a time of setting the board, not battling."
Tulkas, obviously trying to restrain this unfamiliar feeling of anger, stepped down. "I shall inform Manwë of what has been happening," he said curtly, and vanished. Vairë moved back towards her loom and waved her hand. The tapestry vanished as well, sent away to adorn the Halls of Mandos.
Vairë took out a small hand loom and brought her basket of threads to the boards. She seated herself and settled in to watch, picking out the threads of the future.
Criticism appreciated!