Maedhros felt a sense of recognition in the darkness. He remembered that feeling. He stared intently into the south. He couldn't see anything in that direction. Even the stars were veiled. "They come!" he cried. "They're coming from the south."

Finwe ran up the steps to stand beside him. "I can't see anything," Finwe said. "I don't think it was so dark even at Cuvienen."

"They're shrouded in darkness. It clouds the mind – most everyone will go mad with terror," said Maedhros dully, fighting fear. "It's going to get a lot worse. For Eru's sake, run, when they come through the gates. To fight Melkor alone is death."

"And you?" said Finwe.

"I will stay by the gate, and make sure that the trap gets pulled when they arrive. But I fear I may panic and pass out like everyone else," said Maedhros. "I did last time."

Finwe gave him an odd look, then turned back to look southwards. "I want more light out here immediately," said Finwe. "Curufinwe! We need blue lanterns on the walls."

"Coming, Sire," came Curufinwe's voice. A couple of minutes later, the blue lanterns were on the walls and uncovered.

But they seemed dim and fitful compared to their usual brilliance, and threw no light beyond the wall. Morgoth and Ungoliant must be getting near now. "I'm going to stand over the gate now," said Maedhros, his voice shaking slightly.

"I will go to the courtyard and talk some courage into people," said Finwe. "It's a foul darkness, but I refuse to cower from it like a child." Maedhros could hear Finwe's voice wobbling a little as he hurried down the steps, his little blue light bobbing a few times before it disappeared.

Within the walls, he could hear the sound of several people sobbing in fear.

Taking his pathetic little light, Maedhros walked to stand over the gate, where the trap hung ready for the swing of sword through rope that would send rocks tumbling down upon the enemy. Behind the parapet, more rocks had been piled ready.

When he reached the gate, he found the guards were shivering like frightened children, and failing to watch anything at all. And where was Captain Curelda? "Get up!" Maedhros demanded. "I will be with you, and our job is vital. Be ready to drop rocks outside the doors when the lights go out."

They nodded, standing more erect, even if their faces were still pale with fear. "When the lights go out?" one asked.

Then the torches went out, and the lanternlight dimmed near invisibility, illuminating nothing. People were screaming – the horses outside, and people inside, and he could hear running feet and Finwe yelling at the guards to stand fast. "Start dropping rocks," demanded Maedhros in a choked voice, as he shook the guard next to him, then reached down to grope for a rock himself. The trap needed to wait until he was certain the enemy was within reach. They would only have one chance.

Rock up, out, drop it over the parapet… each movement seemed leaden and hopeless in the grip of the Unlight. He did it again anyway, and again. He could hear the sound of orcs laughing, and chains clinking. Not real, not here, his mind chanted. Pick up the rock, pick it up. His right wrist flared with agony, and he dropped the rock at his own feet, falling to his knees. Remembering where he was, he picked himself up, and picked up the rock again. He picked it up, and dropped it over the edge. A thunking sound and a venomous hiss told him he'd probably hit Ungoliant.

He grinned madly, feeling fire return to his heart. He stood, groping for the rope with one hand while he drew his sword with the other. Then he brought the sword down on the thick rope.

Rocks thundered down on the space in front of the gate.

"More rocks, drop more rocks!" he yelled to the guards. He'd no idea if they heard him, but he could hear the spider and Morgoth spitting what sounded like Valarin curse words so foul they would shame Sauron, as well as the sounds of the enemy hauling themselves out of the rubble. Not seriously hurt, then. Damn.

He dropped another rock. Something whistled through the air over his head. His senses reeled, and he fell to his knees again. Orcs, balrogs, werewolves howling in the deep… he bit his lip hard, but adding pain to evil memories wasn't much help.

A bit to his left, a hollow boom announced Morgoth was attacking the door. Better do something about that. He crawled along the top of the wall, colliding with the prone and motionless form of one of the guardsmen. Maedhros crawled over the guard. Another boom, another strike.

He could vaguely hear screaming, but it felt like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Finally, another boom from right underneath him. He found a rock, hauling himself up, but dropped it uselessly at his feet. He tried again, but lost his footing and landed on his face, hearing the doors crack below him. His head stabbed pain at him, and he lay gasping on top of the walkway.

Finwe, a little voice reminded him. You must get to Finwe. Who's that? He couldn't quite remember.

Another boom, and the world shook violently. Sauron laughed at him as he screamed. His left hand was burning, burning… Maedhros' body flamed with agony, and he passed out.

He came to with someone shaking him. He thrashed in their grasp, his eyes opening as he cried out. They released him. He looked around wildly, a dagger in one hand. Stars, the top of a rather unimpressive curtain wall, and the face of Finwe's guard Amandil.

"It's only me, Prince Nelyafinwe," said Amandil, backing away from him. "The King… Finwe…" he swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," said Maedhros, lowering the dagger as he sat up properly. "What happened to Finwe?"

The guard gestured into the courtyard. Maedhros staggered to his feet, and to the inner side of the wall, but he already had a good idea of what he'd see. Finwe lay on the ground, his skull smashed, in a puddle of his own blood.

Carnistir and someone else knelt by his side. The courtyard was nearly deserted, a few people curled in fetal position, or sprawled senseless on the ground. A few were bloody, or lay in positions that spoke of broken bones. Where was Tyelkormo? He was good at first aid. Having had only one hand in Beleriand, Maedhros had never been able to do much along those lines.

Carniel was most likely in the caverns. Maedhros looked back at the guard. "Do you know first aid?" he asked.

"Not well," Amandil said.

"Go to the caverns and tell the women and children that the danger is past, but we need healers," Maedhros told him.

They clattered down the stairs. Maedhros went to Carnistir. "Grandfather," croaked Carnistir, gesturing at Finwe's still form.

"Who's seeing to the wounded?" asked Maedhros.

Carnistir stared at him vacantly.

"Where's Tyelkormo?" demanded Maedhros.

"I don't know," said Carnistir. "What happened to your face?"

Maedhros put a hand up to his mouth. His lower lip was badly swollen, and there was half-dried blood all down his chin. Apparently he'd bitten his lip far harder than he'd realized. "Never mind that. But there are others badly hurt."

"I can help with that," said the guardsman kneeling next to them. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for the King."

Maedhros nodded. He suddenly realized he was still wearing his pack, which contained a first aid kit. He pulled off the pack and rummaged in it, pulling the kit out. "Here. I'm not very skilled, but there should be real healers coming from the caverns soon. Let's go and do what we can."

They started going to the huddled or sprawled figures. Maedhros was relieved to find that most of them were merely still overcome by the Unlight. Others, though…people had run into walls, or fallen over and trodden on each other. One unlucky fellow looked like he might have been both trampled and sat on by Ungoliant. Maedhros wasn't quite sure who he had been. At least, dying this way, he would not attract Namo's special anger by kinslaying.

Maedhros kept having to stop to give directions as more people collected themselves, realized Finwe was dead, and came to him as the one now legally in charge of this fiasco. A couple of real healers soon arrived, though Carniel herself remained in the caves to deal with injuries sustained by panicked people there. The healers relieved Maedhros of trying to treat the wounded, at least.

Time to go investigate what had happened to the silmarils. On his way there, he ran into Curufinwe. "They're gone," said Curufinwe. "They're gone. Everything is gone." His face was streaked with tears. "Finwe trusted me to protect them and I…"

Maedhros embraced his little brother. "None of us functioned properly in that foul blackness, Curvo. At least we're still alive," he said. Then his heart sank. Did Curufinwe even know the worst? "Finwe is dead," he said.

"Oh no," said Curufinwe, releasing Maedhros. "What is father going to do when he finds out?"

"I fear for his mind," said Maedhros. "He will not be rational in his grief, and we may have to keep him from harming himself and others."

"How," Curvo swallowed. "How did grandfather die?"

"He tried to fight Melkor and that foul spider alone," said Maedhros.

"Why was he alone?" demanded Curvo. "Where were Tyelkormo and Huan? They were supposed to stay with him!"

"Finwe was alone because everyone else ran away or fainted at their posts," said Maedhros. "Tyelkormo has a bloody nose from running head-first into a wall. Huan has a hurt paw."

"Where were you?"

"Springing the trap and was dropping more rocks over the gate. I lost my footing and passed out when Moringotto broke the gate. I think we might have managed to hit the spider and Moringotto with some of the rocks first, though. They started cursing in Valarin."

"Well, that's better than I did." He grew silent, lip curling in disgust. "Moringotto," he said savagely. "It suits him."

Just when Maedhros thought he might be able to sit down for a minute, the sound of hooves, neighing and the winding of a mighty horn startled them both.

It was Orome, and some of his maiar. Too late.