Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death
Chapter: 36
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Thingol was pretty certain he did not want to consider how the Fëanorians had managed to gather several thousand cavalry and gotten those through Doriath in less than two days. The two armies met just inside the western border of Doriath.
"Your Majesty." A redhead that could only be Maedhros was at the head, on a massive charger. Two other elves were lingering so close he was pretty certain they had to be two of his siblings. "You have my gratitude for this great boon."
"It was but common sense, as we both wish for Finarfin to be safe." He tilted his head some. "Do your horses need some rest?" Between the distance - and the admittedly not horse-friendly roads in the forest - he could imagine they had been strained in ways they would not have trained for.
"They can't full gallop, but they should be able to keep up with your forces, Your Majesty." The once-High King of the Noldor assured him. "Did you have news of Tol Sirion?"
"The orc-army arrived shortly after midnight of that first day." The silver-haired King of Doriath started heading out. "After that, I was loath to send people too close. Last I heard was this morning, that the fortress is still holding." Neither commented on the fact that it was nearing evening at this point.
"We'll have to hope that they are still holding..." The silver-haired Fëanorian - the presence of a giant wolf-hound made his identity obvious - tightened his muscles. "Should I...?" He looked at his oldest brother questioningly.
"By the time you can report, we're nearly there anyway." The other shook his head. And so they moved north in silence, each praying they'd still be on time.
"Is that..." It was close to midnight, by the time they entered the valley.
"An elvish camp?" There certainly were orcs around the part of the Sirion that held the island, but on the closest side of the encampment were elves. Several horses were heading in their direction, as they were hardly trying for stealth.
"That's Turgon!" The black-haired Fëanorian leaned forward. "Where did he come from!?"
"Cousins!" They were greeted by a white-clad, silver-armoured female beside the tall Fingolfian, waving wildly. "Thank the Powers!"
"Aredhel, what are you doing here!?" Celegorm rushed ahead to his favourite among their many half-cousins.
"We were warned of what happened by the eagles, and came to uncle's aid. We just got here a couple hours ago!" She drew up her horse.
"And we can use your numbers." Her brother declared, his horse nearly as massive as Maedhros. "Please, join me in my tent, cousin. Your Majesty. I suppose your men can take a breather."
"Much obliged." They gave the appropriate orders, then followed the small delegation to a tent on this side of the elvish encampment. It had clearly been barely put up, and the journey made in haste, no furniture beyond a small box and several bedrolls.
"The situation in short is such..." Turgon invited them onto the bedrolls, then quickly drew a quick sketch of the area in the dirt. "We were too late, the orcs hold pretty much the center of the valley, barring the fortress itself. I and mine have opened a battle line here..." He dragged a quick line. "And father came from the north, holding a line just this side of the Fen of Serech."
"Any news from Minas Tirith?" Maedhros sat crosslegged, one remaining hand clenching and unclenching as he spoke.
"Nothing. No one on the walls even." Aredhel declared. "What news we have from above is that it looks like they barricaded themselves in the keep. Of course, it's a bit dubious since we can't get close."
"They are entrusting themselves to the walls?" Thingol frowned, sharing a quick glance with Celeborn. "I am pretty certain I saw siege-engines as we arrived."
"They are entrusting themselves to my Master." A female's voice answered him. The one who had spoken awkwardly waved when several went for their swords. "Hey, allies, allies, remember?"
"Gorthaur has enchanted - or something like that - the walls. Anything that gets across a certain threshold is incinerated, even rocks." Turgon beckoned her aside, away from the pointy objects. "Thuringwethil was outside when he activated it, it was she who warned the Eagles, who in turn warned me. She's been playing messenger between me and dad as well."
"I have a vested interest in you lot saving the island, just saying." She grinned briefly, showing her sharp teeth.
"So we have some time, then?" If the walls would hold indefinitely, they would only have to worry about resources like food in the fortress, rather than the fortress falling.
"Afraid not." Gorthaur's herald made a face. "My Master did not have enough time to hang the Song in the stones on anything yet, like how Melian has her Girdle hanging on the trees and whatnot."
"He's the only fuel?" Maedhros demanded sharply. "Meaning the moment he runs out of energy, that Song's going to end and those walls are coming down."
"Yes." It was Fingolfin's second child that answered. "Most worryingly, they have figured that out." He shook his head. "Our archers are managing to hinder most of their siege-engines, but they are just throwing their corpses and even just dirt and whatnot at it."
"Wearing down the energy-source." Thingol also made a face. "So we are on a time-schedule, but I would not be able to guess what kind off. I am pretty certain that this is not his forte, however. We need to secure the island quickly, because however many elves are in there, they won't be enough."