Early update to make up for taking so long with the previous update.

Wrath's Recompense 7.

The flowers had at least cheered Riona up enough that she once again kept normal hours and ate more, but it didn't stop her avoiding him and she carried on sitting next to Finarfin rather than him at meal times.

She also picked up her little concerts in the evening, much to all present's pleasure. She had a sweet voice that calmed all their troubles and helped them to sleep.

All the while, they moved closer and closer to the final battle against Morgoth and Eönwë was kept as busy with plans as Riona was in the Healing section of the camp. There was a constant stream of injured from the Vanguard of the army, clearing the path ahead of them for the rest of the army, constantly being refreshed with soldiers from the main core.

With every mile, they killed many more than were killed on their side and what they killed varied vastly in nature. There were Orcs and Goblins, Wolves and many, many more creatures that Morgoth called to his aid. There were even men, but those men were hewn under the army of the Valar – badly armed and fed as they were, for Morgoth did not look after his army as the Valar did. The presence of Men on both sides made for the first time in history that Eönwë was glad that the race of Men was not under the same prohibition against Kinslaying as the Eldar. Them not being able to kill each other would have caused a major logistical problem in his battle plans. Thankfully, all the Elves were on his side.

Even with their apparent superiority in battle, they suffered heavy losses; they would be going into the final battle with less than half of what they started with, even with the reinforcements from the peoples they had freed coming in periodically.

Morgoth, on the other hand, had far less than half his original force and he had no extras joining him. Unfortunately to their hundreds of thousands, the fallen Valar had started with millions. Now the numbers were almost even.

XXX

Eönwë rose, knowing that he could not put off the inevitable any longer, any more than he could call on Irmö to provide him more sleep. He pulled on his battle clothes listlessly, trying to summon up the energy he knew he would need later on in the day. With a resigned sigh, he entered the main area of his tent to find his motivation kneeling by his armour.

As he entered, Riona looked up at him. It was hard to tell if her sadness was because he was going into battle or because of something else. He could think of several 'something else's', and in every scenario it was his fault she was sad. He smiled at her as reassuringly as he could. She just held up the first piece of padding for him and helped him put it on.

Once they had finished arming him, they stood there before Riona looked down for a few moments and drew something out of the pouch at her waist. She held it up and he realised it was a lock of her hair tied together with the string Healers used for herbs. Very carefully, she tied it to the shoulder joint of his armour, where it wouldn't harm his movement nor be likely to come off. He realised what she was doing, he'd seen many of the women give similar trinkets, ribbons or locks of hair or scarves to their lovers. They were called Favours, a sort of personal well wish for an individual. He was touched that even after all that had happened, she would still give him one.

Much to his surprise she opened her wax tablet – it had a wooden cover – and revealed a pressed bouquet of flowers. His eyes widened as he realised what she was showing him. She had kept the flowers he had given her and pressed them to preserve them. They had really meant that much to her. He looked at her as warmly as could be managed. It was true; actions definitely spoke louder than words.

XXX

As he sat on his horse, he touched the hand of his shield arm to the little trinket Riona had tied there and though he could barely feel it through the armour, it comforted him to know it was there. Then, slowly, he drew his great two-handed sword and held it up in silent salute.

He felt more than heard the entire army returning the gesture. He instinctively knew that every man and Elf had his blade drawn and held up to the centre of his face.

"An Eru ar an Arda!" he yelled in Quenya. He realised that many in the army wouldn't understand and so repeated it in Sindarin as well, this time they yelled it back just as enthusiastically.

With that loud battle-cry, he led the charge upon the enemy, hacking like there was no tomorrow. He silently pushed back the thought that if they didn't win this then there really was no tomorrow.

A beautiful, auburn-haired figure crossed his mind, and he knew that there had to be a tomorrow.

XXX

He took the small respite he'd been given to look around him. From what he could see, they were winning. It almost seemed like they now outnumbered Morgoth's forces!

A surge of hope filled him and then something in the sky caught his attention and drew out the sudden good feeling, which was swiftly replaced with horror. Dragons. The b...

Morgoth had sent dragons against them.

"Amlug! Amlug a Morgoth," he yelled. The translation into Sindarin was not necessary; you only needed to look up to see what he was talking about.

As soon as his throat had loosened, he let out a yell of warning. For all the good that it would do, most on the field were aware of the airborne presence. As the leading dragon, a fearsome black-scaled beast, almost the personification of darkness, began to dive, a flash of light burst out in the sky from the opposite direction followed by several golden eagles.

Eönwë hadn't held high expectations when he had first seen Eärendil, but now he had to admit the boy had good timing, sailing across the sky in Vingilot and leading the eagles of Manwë. Caught out in the moment, he yelled another comment, this time triumphant rather that shocked or terrified.

"Thoron an Manwë! Eärendil ar Thoron an Manwë tol!" Alright, he was stating the obvious, but in the middle of the biggest battle that Arda had ever seen, even a Maia was not graced with great eloquence. In battle eloquence only existed in poetry.

Suddenly, Eönwë and every other land-bound warrior was brought back to the task at hand and went back to slaughtering the enemy, this time with renewed vigour. Left unsaid, but thought by all was that if Manwë was sending his own eagles into the fray to protect them from Morgoth, then they had to win this battle...

XXX

Eönwë and many others wilted slightly as they realised that they had won and the battle-lust began to wear off.

He panted for a minute or so, still shocked at having actually been successful. Once he had recovered slightly, he pulled off a gauntlet and hung it from his belt before reaching up to touch his shoulder joint, where Riona had placed her Favour. Against all odds, it was still there, tied neatly to his armour. He smiled and touched it again.

Now he had won this physical battle he had a more important, and probably more difficult one to come. Winning back Riona's trust and heart. That, however, was a battle he would approach with the greatest enthusiasm.

The prize was, after all, a beautiful maiden.

Translations.

[note, the phrases are in what is probably bad Quenya, I only had a Quenya dictionary to work with so the grammar is probably atrocious – not that my grasp of English grammar is any better. By the way, if your wondering about the use of Quenya, Eönwë is from valinor and therefore uses it a his first language thus, that is the one he defaults to]

An Eru ar an Arda! : For Eru (the one, ultimate god of the Tolkien-verse) and for Earth (Arda/Middle Earth)

Amlug! Amlug a Morgoth: Dragons! Dragons of Morgoth.

Thoron an Manwë! Eärendil ar Thoron an Manwë tol!: The Eagles of Manwë! Eärendil and the Eagles of Manwë come!