"Fall of Gil-galad" - by Clamavi De Profundis
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing;
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.
3019TA
The War of the Ring was fought on two separate fronts, in the southern and northern theatres. Over the months that the war lasted, the dragon riders stretched themselves thin to fight in every corner they could. Eragon knew this wasn't a sound strategy, but he was desperate to save as many lives as he could. To him, it was a great crime to let a village be burned and pillaged, all for the sake of having the correct amount of dragon-power able to completely decimate the enemy in a separate battle. Saphira understood his thoughts, but still she argued with him over it. She and the Eldunari knew how important it was to have a plan against all the different forces that were coming at them in this war. Yet Eragon wanted all his riders in every place at once.
They came to an agreement when they decided to send envoys beyond the Misty Mountains to call to arms all the abled bodied people they could. Men of the differing towns and smaller cities, the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, even the Hobbits of the Shire. Flying on the winds allowed these emissaries to travel with supreme speed between each location. The youngest of their order, a boy named Theocorn and his dragon Witthruun, barely able to fly, had been begging to be allowed into the fighting. But they were too small, too inexperienced. This opportunity allowed Eragon to have them feel they were contributing without risking their lives.
With these reinforcements, the Kingdoms of Rohan, Rivendell and the Iron Hills had more to summon to their aid. And just in time.
The riders had tipped the balance of power in this war, and as a consequence, Sauron pushed back against them with all the might he could muster. In the southern theatre, the traitor Saruman within his tower of Isengard had pressed the attack on the southern kingdoms with a flood of beastly Uruk-Hai. These were an advanced breed of orcs built for war: stronger, faster, able to move through daylight and with a savagery and singlemindedness Middle Earth had never before seen. With them pouring into the surrounding countryside, it was very clear that they meant for the total destruction of all the free peoples of Middle Earth.
And so came about the first of two major setbacks that befell the Rider order.
Eragon had directed all his riders in the southern reaches of Middle Earth to fly straight for Isengard. They needed to stop this machine of war in its tracks before it could overwhelm the allied forces and then head west into undefended territory. The dragons arrived at Isengard just after an army had left for Helms Deep. Whilst too late to stop the Uruk-Hai from marching, Isengard was left virtually undefended aside from the breeders and craftsman that still maned the forges beneath the tower. They were decisive and brutal. Fire and destruction rained down upon Saruman's keep. All his forges were destroyed, his remaining orcs and goblins slain. Saruman's own power was greatly diminished, and so riders and dragons rooted him out of his own tower like ferrets sniffing out a mouse from its burrow. His servant, Grima Wormtongue, was killed and eaten in the skirmish. Saruman himself was taken alive for questioning, initially.
However, dragonfire and trees are not a pleasant combination. The battle set fire to what remained of the forest around Isengard. And when the Ents arrived – tricked by two Hobbits of the Fellowship in attempting to gain another ally – they bared witness to this atrocity, and were enraged. They attacked both dragons and orcs indiscriminately. The Ents stole Saruman from the riders, and because they now held no allegiance to any free peoples, they slew him. It was only because of the interference of Merry and Pippin that the dragons and riders held back a counterattack. Instead, they retreated with the two hobbits, and the Ents took control of Isengard for themselves.
It was a victory, in essence. But also a defeat. Isengard could no longer aid the Dark Lord, but neither could it now protect the western regions. The area surrounding it was now no-mans-land.
At the same time, in the northern theatre, Sauron had made deals with an empire far beyond the boarders of Middle Earth, called the Easterlings. They came with siege equipment and beasts of war as big as newly matured dragons. They swept across the north, intending to conquer the Iron Hills, Mirkwood, and even Erebor. They were aided in their efforts by the orcs born from Dol Guldur. Quite by accident, two dwarvish riders and three elvish riders were sent with their dragons to the wrong locations. The dwarves and their dragons went to Mirkwood, and the elves and their dragons flew to the Iron Hills. It made for rather awkward and tense talks at first, but once the orcs and Easterlings were pushed back initially, Eragon and Saphira were astounded to find that perhaps it helped to improve relations between the two races – just a little bit.
And of course, no force could take Erebor. It was clear that Sauron wanted to take the mountain for its strategic position, the riches within, and perhaps even to sway Smaug under his control once again. Though Smaug was bound to the Mountain by the magic imposed on his true name, Saphira had feared the power of the Dark Lord, that he might take control of her former mate again. She and Eragon had raced out to Erebor, to see if they could hold back this attack on the Mountain. But on the morning they arrived… they found no host of the enemy.
The fields had been scorched with fire, the soil stained with blood. The carcasses of Mûmakil and the Haradrim forces lay upon the ground, cut open and half eaten. Orcs had been roasted alive in their armour. They had not even made it to the great gate of Erebor, slaughtered right before it. A part of Saphira was astounded at the level of destruction wrought upon that field, and relieved that Smaug was still unenchanted by Sauron's spells. Another part of her longed for just a glimpse of him, perhaps to even see a glimmer of his eyes from the shadow of the mountain. She did not know what words she would say to him if she did chance upon him, or if he would want to see her. But in that moment where she had been so close, a pang of loneliness had sliced at her heart. And guilt. Guilt most especially.
She wanted to stay. She wanted to see him, to tell him she was sorry. But the war called her away.
It was because of this little trip to Erebor, that Saphira and Eragon were the only ones close enough, when the second outrage befell their order.
With most of the Riders out in the field, their Fortress home had been left undefended. A small band of orcs and trolls had made their way past all the fighting and into the Grey Mountains. There, they came across Fort Arngor, with only a few young riders and their immature dragons. Without fire, the young dragons could put up a fight, but not much else. Being so inexperienced, they could not fend off the invaders indefinitely. As such, they kept their adversaries busy whilst one dragon tried to reach the edge of the mountains and call for help. Saphira had heard the faintest whispers of a mind in panic, and had come flying as fast as she possibly could.
Sauron had directed the orcs here because he wanted them to hit the Riders where it might hurt the most. The Orcs raided through the fortress, some stealing whatever trinkets they could grab, but others were more focused. A few found the Hall of Colours and thought to steal the Eldunari for their master. However, Cuaroc, in his metal warrior's body, was able to defend the council from the invaders. And yet that wasn't their only target.
Saphira and Eragon had arrived and immediately fought their way through the invaders. Eragon tried to rally Saphira to defend their students against the Trolls outside, but she was a dragoness possessed. She stormed into Arngor, following the trail of destruction that led down into the vaults. Her heart had been beset with terror. The Orcs had been sent to smash whatever eggs they could find.
She found them just as they opened the door to the vault. They had only just broken in. And through some magic she knew not of, one egg had already been smashed upon the floor.
Saphira flew into a vengeful rage so great and terrible, if any orc had survived that encounter, they would have spread tales of her bloodthirsty ferocity. She had a mother's fury that drove her on a killing spree. Her fire roasted the orcs out of the vault, and she chased them through the halls. Their armour was nothing compared to her teeth. Mauled, broken and torn apart, they screamed under her jaws and talons.
"Saphira!" she had heard Eragon cry distantly. He was running to her aid, though she needed no one's help.
The orcs fleeing her, and those running from Cuaroc had met in the entrance hall and had been cornered by Eragon. They'd had no choice but to go through him to reach the exit. Eragon managed to get his sword up, and took down five of the remaining orcs in just as many moves. But their numbers proved their advantage. When Saphira had appeared behind them, fire in her throat and murder in her eyes, they had panicked and swarmed the lone rider.
Eragon had his wards up, so he had no idea what had failed him that day. Saphira saw the blow coming, the Orc lifting its blade high to strike down on Eragon's side whilst he was busy with two other opponents. She saw the danger, could feel it like an electrical current in the air. It had snapped her out of her rage. Her roar turned to one of panic as she leapt to try and catch the fiend before he could pounce.
But she was too late. Whatever magic Sauron had armed these orcs with was powerful enough to break dragon eggs and cut through magical wards. Eragon had leapt back to avoid the deadly hit – but he couldn't escape it completely. The blade had sliced through his face and took his eye.
Saphira had screamed as the pain had ripped through her own flesh, the bond between her and Eragon giving her an echo of his pain. Her rider had fallen, but he was not dead. With no other choice, Saphira had blocked their connection so that she could see through the agony. Her heart was torn – she wanted to stay by her rider, be sure he was safe; but she knew these orcs couldn't be allowed to return to their master. They could not tell him what they had found here. So, she'd followed in pursuit, and she and the younger dragons had fallen upon them and slaughtered them all. Quick and efficient – nowhere near as painful as Saphira's vengeance demanded, but the task was done. Now, she could return to her partner-of-her-heart-and-mind.
Eragon had been bedridden for a week. Healing magic kept infection away, but the touch of the Dark Lord meant no magic could recover his eye. It was gone forever. Saphira had stayed by Eragon's bedside, once again, self-loathing for her own failures was her only companion in those long nights. She only left his side to go to the eggs, to tend to them, and to mourn the one little hatchling she had lost.
For too long, she had thought she, Eragon, the Riders and the dragons were invulnerable. She had thought they would be what tipped this war into easy victory. And for her hubris, this had happened. Sauron had just reminded her how easy it was to be broken. And that now left her fearful for the future…
Author's Note: Hello lovely readers, I just wanted to leave a quick message to you all to answer some questions.
I know a lot of you are interested in me going into greater detail on the events of the Lord of the Rings, and how the Riders effect it. However, I cannot commit to that. This story was always designed as a short story, with the war of the ring being explained but never going into explicit detail, dialogue and all. If I did, this story would be 50 chapters long, and I am afraid I don't have the time or the commitment for that at this time. However, when we return to the "present" events in this story, we will go back to a more book-like format, rather than the flashback synopsis style I have employed in these last two chapters.
I hope everyone is okay with this. And that you enjoy this story regardless.
Please don't forget to review!