Part IV: Ashes to Ashes
Now Arda itself was in turmoil, each element reacting to the fury of the battle in its own way. The oceans boiled, and rivers and streams overwhelmed their banks; earthquakes levelled valleys and crumbled mountains. The air rolled and rippled with the frenzy of the warring birds above. Every living animal of the earth and the sea tried to hide, but their attempts were fruitless. Burrows flooded, nests were torn asunder, and dens caved in. The beasts' howling, shrieking and chattering added layer upon layer to the hellish din.
On and onward strove the forces of Light and Shadow, in that unnatural, bloodless, one-sided war. The Children of Eru and Aulë prevailed over the minions of Morgoth in every individual conflict, and Valinor's green land was soon coated thickly with the cinders of slain enemies. There was one elf, however, who was not on Manwë's side.
Formerly an ellon of Imladris, this elf had long black hair, cruel grey eyes and a hideous scar on the left side of his chin, the relic of some battle long ago. His name was Halanor, and he was a proud servant of the Dark Lord. He had been thus ever since his spirit was snatched into the Void by Morgoth himself, in the infinitesimal moment after his demise and before Mandos could lay claim to him. Now, he swung his sword ruthlessly through the bodies of those who had, many, many years before, been his kindred.
He spotted her before she noticed: a tall elleth with flowing silver hair, fighting alongside of a black-haired ellon who wore a brilliant jewel in an ornately-wrought circlet upon his brow. The elleth soon turned around and saw Halanor, and her eyes grew even icier than they already were, as he made his way deliberately toward her.
Celebrían's chilly eyes looked her old enemy up and down, and her mouth slowly relaxed into a weirdly sweet smile. She slew the other evil creatures around her almost carelessly, with her eyes upon the elf who had once tried to rape her – and consequently, murder her – on her wedding night.
Halanor smirked, raising his sword as the two of them neared each other. "Say goodnight, my sweet!"
The weapon plunged straight into Celebrían's chest before she could move. She stared in silence at the glittering blade, half of its length buried between her ribs, and swayed for a moment where she stood. But suddenly she was completely steady. Her hand moved like a striking snake, effortlessly dislodging the sword from her body (How, Halanor cried out inwardly, how could she possibly be unharmed?) and impaling her adversary on her own weapon.
"Goodnight," she smiled evenly, watching calmly as the ellon burst into ashes before her eyes. She blew a tiny cinder off of the blade of her sword, and swiftly rejoined the battle.
----
Samwise Gamgee was a simple hobbit, a gardener at heart. He had little if any knowledge of warfare, having seen none in his lifetime. But here he was, suddenly whisked from the dead and set on a battlefield, with a sword in his hand and the words of an elven stranger in his heart.
Elrond had told him a thrilling tale of an adventure in some different lifetime, a story of an evil Ring that had been carried across the world, and thrown into a huge mountain full of liquid fire. Sam's master, Frodo, had been the one to bear the Ring, and Sam had never left his side through the whole perilous journey. When Frodo had been stung by a horrific giant-sized spider named Shelob, Sam had slain the creature himself to rescue his friend.
And speaking of spiders…
Sam felt his body go numb with fear. A monstrous arachnid, ten times as large as the one Elrond had described, was bearing steadily down on him. The terrible beast was leaving a trail of thick, material darkness in its wake, and vomited the same horrific stuff out before it. All eight of its black eyes glistened ominously, and a twelve-inch, needle-sharp stinger protruded from the back end of its abdomen. Eru knew how much poison the thing held.
The spider's name was Ungoliant, the Gloomweaver. She had been a servant of Morgoth since the world was young, and it was with her aid that the Dark Lord had first plunged Valinor into darkness, in the Years of the Trees. She had been banished to the Void many ages ago, and now roamed the earth again in all her terrible splendour. Her target was the fear-frozen halfling standing in her path. He was plump; his body would provide her with a splendid meal or two.
Sam clearly saw the hunger in the creature's gaze, and his mind abruptly cleared as a soft, urgent voice pealed out within it: You have done this before, you can do it again! Do not doubt yourself. I know the strength within you!
The hobbit nodded once, his jaw setting in resolution as his fist clenched on the hilt of his sword. He stood his ground as Ungoliant came forward single-mindedly, and they stared each other down. Eight eyes locked with two, and the halfling leapt with a shout, piercing one of his enemy's eyes. Ashes sprayed out from the pricked bubble, and Ungoliant gave a screech of wrath, rearing up on four of her long back legs, and lunging at him with her gruesome mandibles.
Sam jumped back, thrusting his sword forward and bursting a second great eye open. His opponent hissed threateningly, scrabbling forward and jabbing her deadly stinger at him. The hobbit rolled from side to side, narrowly avoiding death each time. He plunged his blade upward into her soft underbelly, and was rewarded by an ear-splitting wail and a shower of ashes.
Sam climbed upright in the dusty grey rain, awed at his own feat. He, a humble gardener, had single-handedly slain a hideous monster, even greater than the one he allegedly had killed in a lifetime he couldn't remember having. Heartened by this, he dove readily back into the mêlée.
----
Varda and Sauron locked eyes fiercely across the battleground. The Valië's countenance was grave and calm, while the Maia's blood-hued eyes betrayed his unbridled, passionate rage. They approached each other purposefully, while the people below scattered, afraid to be trampled by their great footfalls.
"We meet again," said the Star-Queen coldly, staring into her adversary's smirking face.
Sauron nodded, absently brushing an unruly strand of golden hair out of his face. He kept his head lowered for quite a time longer than what would be considered customary; those silver eyes of hers secretly frightened him.
Varda allowed herself a fleeting smile, but never once did she let her guard drop. Both of them knew a fight was imminent and inevitable. The question was this: who would be the first to strike?
Sauron swiftly acted upon the opportunity, and sent a black bolt of lightning, emanating darkness, straight for his opponent's heart. Varda deflected it almost casually, with a flick of her wrist, and retaliated. A beam of pure, white light struck Sauron in the stomach: she had knowingly missed his heart. She waited mutely as the Maia straightened up, gasping.
"Is that the best you can do?" he challenged.
Varda calmly shed her body, allowing her true spirit to be known, though there was very little change in her appearance. Her light blazed forth all the stronger, and she was made indistinct – a hovering, brilliant, shapeless mass of pure Light. Sauron cringed, shielding his eyes from the Valië in all her glory. Then he, too, abandoned his corporeal form, and revealed his true nature, Darkness, which for so long had been obscured by his fair guise.
They came together a hundred feet in the air, complete opposites mingling as their spirits vied for victory. To observers, it was like watching the Sun resisting the Moon's eclipse; light and dark formed a great orb, which was rippling, writhing, and utterly at odds with itself.
The black soul of Sauron and the white one of Varda clashed completely silently, each winning and losing by turns as they tried to cast each other out. The Valië moved with the speed of light, but the Maia possessed the speed of darkness. For no matter how fast Light travels it finds that the Darkness has always gotten there first, and is waiting for it. Yet Varda's might was greater than that of her opponent, so the two were fairly well matched.
But Varda suddenly knew that what she had to do to win was not what she had just been doing. It was the opposite.
She folded herself around him, pulling Sauron ever closer to her. The Maia shrieked and writhed, but the Valië didn't stop. She surrounded her enemy, embraced him, compressed him into the smallest space imaginable, and then… she destroyed him.
Her goodness, her purity, her Light lanced through Sauron's entire being, driving out the evil, the corruption and the Darkness – everything of which he was made. His spirit rose up in a howl of rage and anguish, and Sauron, the servant of Morgoth, was extinguished like a candle in the wind, never to be rekindled.
----
Morgoth snarled aloud in fury, baring his great yellow fangs. No matter how many of the warriors of Manwë he crushed beneath his war-hammer, they all refused to die! Nothing hindered them! And yet his own warriors were dying by the thousands, annihilated before his very eyes!
Murderous intentions flamed in the Dark Lord's heart as he scoured the battleground with his eyes, and gave a purely corrupted smile. His sight was fixed upon one Maia female in the multitude, a being fully wreathed in bright golden flames. He smashed aside all others who barred his path, and ignored the ashes floating out from his own injuries. He trained his unwavering gaze on Arien.
Mandos saw the Dark Lord coming, but a cry of warning stuck in his throat. He could not even send out a thought, nor make a move to halt the ex-Vala's deadly progress. Why in all of Eä was Eru keeping him from giving Arien the chance to flee for her life? He could only watch in helpless horror as the looming black shape of Morgoth slowly closed in on the flame-bright figure of his prey.
Arien did not see Morgoth until he was upon her. The Dark Lord swooped downward like some overgrown bat, spinning the Maia around to face him, and crushing her to his body with his powerful arms. Desperately she writhed against him, letting her searing fire lick all along his skin, but he only laughed at her efforts and absorbed her power into himself, feeding the flames of his own dark might with her frenetic heat.
The more you struggle, he hissed into her ear, the more I will take from you. Surrender, and you may keep your life. Resist, and I will completely destroy you.
Even now Arien could feel her energy draining, being sapped away by the Dark Lord. He leered victoriously as her efforts lessened, and she fell limp in his arms, even shrinking in size as her light dimmed. But both predator and victim looked up as a scream rent the air.
"NO!"
The yell was accompanied by a loud hissing, and Morgoth arched his back and roared as an arrow embedded itself deep in his shoulder. The long shaft was the color of silver, and its flights were white swans' feathers. The one who had fired the arrow stood a few feet away, with another shaft nocked to the glimmering white string of his silver bow. His garments were the same hue as his weapon, and a horned circlet of that metal sat on his shining, white-haired head. Rage and vengeance burned in his pale blue eyes.
"If you dare touch her again," Tilion shouted, in a strong voice that was a far cry from his usual stutter, "I will slay you where you stand!" He deliberately drew back his bowstring, showing no intention of going back on his word.
Despite her grave position, a tiny smile brushed Arien's lips. Tilion, she knew, had loved her for thousands of years. The thought that he would risk his own life to protect hers was deeply moving. Weakly she sent out a message of thanks to Tilion, and knew by the look in his eyes that he had heard her.
Tilion did not lower his bow, nor did Morgoth release his captive. Instead he turned to face his enemy, holding Arien before him, using her as a helpless, living shield. The Dark Lord grinned sadistically at the horror in the eyes of both Maiar, and did not move. He leered in evil satisfaction, waiting to see what his victim's intended saviour would do next.
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A/N:
The underlined quote was borrowed from the brilliant author, Terry
Pratchett. I just hope I got the phrase right.
