Disclaimer: See Chapter 2.

I will not carry a gun, Frank. When I got thrown into this war
I had a clear understanding with the Pentagon: no guns.
I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry
on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry,
carry me back to Old Virginia, I'll even 'hari-kari' if you show me how,
but I will not carry a gun!

-Captain Hawkeye Pierce MASH

Chapter 49 – I will live through this if it kills me

It started off a bit like Mexican stand-off, or so Jim decided as he stood waiting for the fighting to commence.

They directly faced the enemy across a short space of ground soon to become a battlefield. Something that rarely, if ever, happens now in modern military warfare. At the head of the Elves Eonwe, head of all the Maiar, a formidable warrior, first among arms, personal Herald to the Elder King of Arda, Lord of the Valar sat his horse. A wonderful sight, yet a rather peculiar one given that he was dressed in Army camouflage combats and not his usual splendid armour.

Eonwe wore no helm, he did not need one to look imposing despite the dusty black combat boots and the incongruous clothing. His light shone out like a banner of strength and purity. He carried an assault rifle in one hand and wielded a sword in the other. Not his personal sword it had to be said; that remained in Gary's keeping, but to Eonwe a sword was a sword, was a sword.

Beside him, also sitting his horse was Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor in exile. Now he had a weapon, Aiglos, whose point glittered wickedly in the sunlight. Many an unfortunate orc had met his demise at the point of Aiglos. The High King also wore no helm, just a mithril circlet crafted by Celebrimbor that served the joint purpose of signifying his rank and also kept his long dark hair back from his face in battle. His light shone much more softly than the Maia's light, but shine it did, with the luminescence of the captured starlight of Elbereth, straight, true and pure.

Slightly behind him sat Glorfindel, golden reborn warrior. Like Eonwe he shone with the light of the two trees and the power given to one of the reborn. He was a translucent vessel filled with a light of such pure gold that it made the eyes ache to look upon him. He was counted as fair even among the rest of the Eldar, yet he now wore such a feral expression on his ethereally handsome face that would given pause to any orc who dared cross swords with him. He bore the light and power of the Eldar which, in a later age, would set the dark servants of Sauron to flee before it.

Cirdan, lord of the Teleri remaining on Arda had the most relaxed stance. He casually sat his horse and a faint smile hovered about his silver bearded lips. His very appearance was one of muted power, of great age and wisdom unquantified. He needed no light to shine. He would simply fight to the death if necessary and defend the young Elf who he had nurtured all these years and who he had proudly watched take his place among the great Kings of the Elves on Arda Marred.

Celeborn of Doriath sat tall in the saddle, he had withdrawn his sword and held it loosely and casually across the front of him. A consummate and experienced warrior by any standards. His silver hair shone like a banner in the sun. As he sat he gathered his strength from within, not least of which was the strength that his silver and golden lady sent to him with all of her heart and love. A quiet strength it had to be said. Not one that came with blinding golden light, but one that was honed in the fires of Doriath and one that also served to support and temper his more mercurial spouse, Galadriel. He was her tall silver tree, her strength and her soul mate. One could do worse than have Celeborn at one's back in a fight.

The rest of the group, including the Naugrim, were valiant warriors all, among them one young human policeman who had learned much in his sojourn in this time that was not his own, and Olorin, a peace loving Maia who had been catapulted from the peace of Aman into the violence of Arda Marred. Both were experiencing events that would hone them for their future and would give Olorin the grounding for a role in later events that would eventually shape the modern world of men.

On the other side, Sauron was the only mounted warrior. He had exchanged his dark robes for midnight black armour, crafted especially for him by Morgoth Bauglir's own armourers and of his own design. His black cloak billowed out around him and his dark light blanketed out any sunlight around him. This had a two-fold purpose; to cast his dark cold debilitating aura over those enemy near him and so deplete their strength and courage and to blot out the sun in order to allow his orc foot soldiers to function effectively in battle during the daylight hours. The only weapon he carried which was apparent to those watching was a massive and lethal looking black spiked mace.

In direct contrast to the calm, unsullied ranks of the Elves, the orcs were an undisciplined rabble kept in place by fear tactics. Plain and simple. In modern times Jim and his counterparts in the police would have used riot control methods on them that would have incapacitated them in no time at all. Unfortunately, however, tear gas grenades were in rather short supply in Middle Earth.

It had to be said that the small force of modern soldiers approaching the battle area even as the protagonists faced each other could have rounded the massive force of orcs up in a matter of minutes all by themselves, but that was not their remit. Not yet at least.

However even they, with all their force of arms, modern technology and expertise behind them, could not have prevailed against the might of Sauron, first lieutenant and battle commander of Morgoth. Only Eonwe could face him directly in battle and even as Sauron tried to bend his will upon the Herald, did the Valar silently and of one accord give their champion the strength added to his own to dismiss it.

Eonwe sat straight upon his horse and stared directly and without fear or flinching into the black helmed face of one of his own kind. Behind the dark helm Sauron's usually blue eyes flared red. He was now showing his true face of corruption and not the beautiful form he usually took.

For what seemed like ages the two groups faced each other. Nothing could be heard other than the rattle of a bridle ring or the stamp of a horses hoof on the dusty ground. Then Sauron dismounted, dismissed his mount and at some unseen signal from their commanders, the orcs began to clash their weapons together and a guttural chanting arose.

They lifted their crude banners high and were answered by Gildor and Erestor acting as heralds with the bright star covered banners of the High King of the Noldor.

Eonwe also dismounted as did the High King, the horses fled the battlefield to take shelter elsewhere until they were needed again.

"This is it." Jim muttered under his breath. He felt a familiar tightening in his stomach muscles.

Olorin grinned at him. "Certainly seems that way. Are you afraid?" It was a simple question, there was no judgment in it.

A wide grin split the young man's face. "Absopositively fucking terrified!" He said cheerfully. "I think I might have just peed my pants."

Olorin chuckled and would have glanced down had it not been for the fact that Eonwe had turned to them all and spoken.

"See to the orcs. Leave Sauron to me. I will brook no interference in this." He glanced warningly at Glorfindel who grinned at him unabashed. "We are alike and equal in power and strength. I will not have any of you die unnecessarily at his hands." His voice was grim. "I will try to draw him as far away as I can so that as much of the darkness he casts will be limited as possible.

Gil-galad opened his mouth to protest but closed it again after having thought better of it. "Orcs we can deal with." He said brightly and the rest of the company laughed. But he stared fixedly at Sauron and shivered slightly as if someone had just crossed over his grave.

The Naugrim leader spoke to his people in their own language and fingered his axe lovingly. His eyes were bright with anticipation. Celebrimbor stood beside them and looked down at the dwarf. "There would be no shame if you left us Master Glosur." He said softly. "This is not really your fight."

Glosur beamed up at the tall Elven Smith. "We know that laddie, but d'ya really think we would abandon ye all and yon pretty shiny man to death and destruction at the hands of these disgusting creatures?" He jerked his head over towards Eonwe who laughed when he heard the comment. Silvery laughter rippled around the assembled Elves."Besides my axe yearns to taste more orc blood."

Celebrimbor also burst into laughter. "Then I salute you Master Glosur and we will fight shoulder to shoulder...er... shoulder to hip." He corrected himself. Everyone laughed, including the Naugrim. Celebrimbor waved his wickedly curved elven sword at Sauron and his chanting orcs. ""We will fight and die together with honour!"

Glosur cast him an odd look. "Who said anything about dying? But if it is to be that way, then I shall do it by your side, friend Elf, with pleasure. Today is a good day to die."

"I name you all Elvellon...Elf-Friends and if this be an ending, then we shall make such an ending that will never be forgotten and will be sung about in the feasting halls for all the ages to come." Declared Celebrimbor. The rest of the Elves and the Dwarves cheered loudly and Eonwe beamed his approval.

Tears sprang to the old dwarf's eyes. "Aye that we will laddie." He said softly. And thus began Celebrimbor's long friendship with dwarven-kind.

ooOoo

Another battlefield not too far away...

"They have joined in battle." Gary said quietly to Tulkas.

Tulkas cocked an eyebrow at his companion. "As we are also about to do." He remarked. He glanced around the battlefield and sniffed the air like an eager spaniel about to go on the hunt for rabbits.

Gary nodded somberly. "Yes, but Eonwe is about to fight Sauron."

Tulkas chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Well, they are equally matched, but I think Eonwe has the measure of him."

"He's going to fight a fully armoured corrupt Maia wearing a set of Army combats and carrying my crappy sword."

Tulkas nodded sagely. "Aye, he was ever a one to fight when the odds were against him." His tone was unworried and rather pensive.

Gary's eyebrows hit his hairline. "That's it? That's allyou have to say? Aren't you worried at all?"

Tulkas smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder gently. "He's a big boy now Gary. He can handle Sauron or any of his ilk. I knowbecause I taught him. Eonwe, Gil-galad and his merry band will prevail. I sense that neither Sauron nor Eonwe are meant to perish in that small melee. In the meantime..." He glanced over at where their own protagonists stood, also rattling shields and weapons and chanting their little hearts out. "We have our own problems."

Gary sighed. "Yes we do." He grinned boyishly at Tulkas. "Let's have at them shall we?"

Tulkas threw his leonine head back and roared with laughter. "I thought you'd never ask!" He shouted as he flung himself headlong towards the enemy who quailed, dropped their swords at the sight and tried to run in the opposite direction.

Gary shook his head in mock despair and followed the golden haired Vala into the fray, whirling Eonwe's huge sword above his head and shouting "Cry God, for Harry, England and St George!" at the top of his voice, while at the same time sending wishes of good luck to his alter ego.

Shakespeare's immortal line evinced some very strange looks from Ingwion and Finarfin who didn't understand one single word of the battle cry. Finarfin merely rolled his eyes heavenward and then rushed in behind him yelling his own battle cry, followed at a slightly more sober pace by Ingwion who was content to scythe his razor sharp sword through the oncoming horde of orcs as if they were made entirely from soft butter.

ooOoo

Kim watched in horror as the battle was joined with a resounding clash of arms. She stood with Alun Davies in the small enclave where the healers worked and they were guarded by both Vanyarin and Noldorin warriors, some from Maedhros' group, although Maedhros himself and Maglor were also in that mass of fighting and making a good account of themselves.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Elros chaffing at the bit as he watched the warriors whirling in amongst the orcs in their lethal dance of death. It was clear that he wanted to be down there where all the excitement was, but Maedhros had forbidden them to fight and both Gary and Tulkas had backed him up.

For his part Elrond made no complaint and was quietly moving about the healers tent helping them prepare for whatever injured would come their way, but Kim had seen the curved sword belted around his slim waist and she knew that he was more than capable of defending himself or anyone else for that matter.

Alun put his hands in the pockets of his coat and immediately encountered the sharp dagger given to him by Gary. He closed his eyes in distress as he remembered the instructions given to him by the young officer. "I leave her in your care. If things go pear shaped, get her out of here. If you can't get her out of here...then you know what to do. Don't let them get their hands on her or the child. I am trusting you to do this Alun. I cannot ask anyone else to do it. I wish I had a revolver to give you, but this is the best I can do. Make it clean and swift for her."

Alun could see the pain in Gary's eyes and his own heart almost broke too. He had nodded and taken the dagger. What else was he to do?

ooOoo

Dutch and his troopers stayed where they were and watched the hand to hand fighting in astonishment and fascination.

"Those 'yer blokes are damn good fighters." Irish remarked in his thick Welsh accent as he leopard crawled over to where Dutch was lying flat and watching through his field goggles.

"Yup."

"Pretty boys too."

"Yup."

Irish reached over and pulled out a roll up cigarette from the top pocket of his jacket. Dutch stopped and pushed the goggles up over his forehead as his companion lit up and took a long drag off the cigarette.

"Those things'll kill you you know." He remarked.

"Well someone told my old gran that on her eightieth birthday and she'd been smoking since she were thirteen. Horrible cough she 'ad. She took fright and stopped the next day and hired herself a personal trainer." Irish took another drag and gazed pensively at the smoldering cigarette.

Dutch grinned to himself. "Did it work?" There had to be a punchline. With Irish there was always a punchline.

"Well...no...not exactly. She died a month later and when they cut her open to see what had killed her, they found that her lungs were just fine, but her heart had burst under the strain of the exercise." He grinned. "Just shows you, it's not the cough that carries you off, but the coffin they carry you off in!"

Dutch sniggered and went back to his observation of the fighting. "That bloke in the combats fighting that big bugger in black. That is this Major Matthews we're supposed to find isn't it?"

Irish perused the battle through his own goggles. "I would say so. Don't like the look of the bastard he's fightin' meself, but he's a dab hand with the sword. Must be an officer thing. It might just be me eyes or the dust, but he also has a glow about him. Very nimble on 'is feet too." He rolled over and squinted at Dutch. "So, how long we waiting here before we go down and pile in? The lads'll be itching to get their hands dirty. Billy's been sat there twitching under that there cloth with his sights on those horrible things for ages now. Trigger happy is what 'e is."

Billy grinned at them through the green and black cam cream and flipped off a rude gesture at him.

"Think you can take that one fighting with that blond bloke? The one that looks like a girl with all the hair?" Dutch asked him.

Billy bounced up and down with excitement. "Yep, serpently can, shall I give it a try?"

"Knock yourself out." Dutch chuckled. They sat back and watched him prepare to aim and fire.

ooOoo

Glorfindel was never quite sure what happened next. One minute he was doing the dance of death with the biggest orc he had ever seen, its snarling mouth filled with jagged teeth was snapping at him every time he thrust forward with his sword and the bad breath was enough to fell him where he stood. The next minute, just as he thrust at the creature who was wheezing with what sounded for all the world like laughter, it toppled back slowly, like a felled tree with a look of total and utter surprise on its face.

"Ohnicely done there!" Gil-galad whizzed past him, eyes alight with battle and in hot pursuit of a tall thin orc who had long since abandoned his weapon and was trying to find his way out of the battlefield.

"Huh?" Glorfindel looked confused and stopped stabbing at the empty space where his opponent had been just seconds before. "I did not...I mean...I..." But the High King wasn't listening any more, he was bouncing after his quarry with great glee and cut him down just as Celeborn whirled around with his own sword to deal with him. They practically did the Elven version of a high five.

Glorfindel bent down and examined the huge orc commander. It didn't take toomuch looking to notice the small neat hole right in the middle of his forehead and when Glorfindel tentatively turned the head his stomach growled in disgust because there was no back of the head there, it was shattered away. He dropped the head quickly and wiped his hand on his already blood covered cloak.

As he stood there in confusion Olorin chanced to come near him. He took one look at the hole in the orc's forehead and knew exactly what had happened. He turned around in the general directory of what would probably been the trajectory of the projectile and his sharp gaze caught the sight of a glint of what could be metal on the hillside among the bushes.

Glorfindel came to stand beside him and squinted in the same direction. "What do you see?" He asked curiously.

Olorin laughed softly. "I see the cavalry coming over the hill." And he prepared to evacuate the Chief's body even as the Chief's fea materialised in front of him.

The next minute all hell broke loose.

ooOoo