Disclaimer: See Chapter 2.

[after an exhausting shift in the OR
Col Potter: By the way, what war is this?
Hawkeye: The latest war to end all wars.
- MASH

Chapter 51 – Insanity is just a state of mind

"What in the name of the Valar is he doing?" Celeborn snapped the neck of an orc with ease and threw him to one side, even as he stopped and stared at the tall figure dressed in dappled green and beige clothing circling the black garbed figure of Sauron.

Cirdan's head turned in the direction that Celeborn was staring in and also watched in puzzlement as Eonwe circled Sauron slowly and gracefully, all the while swapping his sword fluidly from one hand to the other. He had given the assault rifle to Jim who now carried it slung across his back much in the same way that Olorin carried the other. Sauron, for his part, also turned in a tight circle on the spot, although the bulk of his armour meant that he was much slower than the lighter garbed Eonwe.

The Lord of the Teleri stroked his silver beard thoughtfully. "I know not. It would seem that he is goading Sauron. Perhaps he wants him to make the first strike? Mayhap it is some kind of Maia method of swordplay that we have not been privy to."

"It looks like a dance." Celeborn remarked. He eyed Sauron's massive mace, even now being lifted with ease by the massive strength of its owner. Sauron began to swing it in a steady arc in preparation for the staggering blow that he intended to land on his opponent. "Sauron is getting ready to make his blow."

Eonwe appeared to not take any notice of the huge spiked ball spinning his way. He kept his eyes on Sauron's face and kept moving and changing his weapon from left hand to right hand and back in the same fluid way he had been doing since the encounter began.

Both Cirdan and Celeborn cried out in alarm as the massive spike ball spun almost to Eonwe's face and a snarl of satisfaction escaped from behind the black helm. However even as Sauron braced himself for the impact and subsequent follow through, the mace thudded through empty space to the ground and the corrupt Maia started back in surprise. Moments later the solid impact of two black combat boots smacked him on the side of his head and set him to stagger drunkenly for a moment.

Celeborn and Cirdan watched in astonishment as Eonwe suddenly leaped into the air as if propelled by magic or, at the very least, a huge spring. As his body side-swept the heavily armoured Maia his feet slammed into him. He rolled as he hit the ground on the other side and landed lightly back on his feet. Almost immediately he began the circling and the swapping of the weapon from one hand to other again while Sauron reeled from the blow and tried desperately to regain his equilibrium.

Not an easy task when your opponent will not stand still and allow you hit them.

Celeborn chortled madly. "He is using Sauron's heavy armour and the weight of his weapon against him. He knows he cannot hope to best him in direct combat because of his lack of armour, but he has speed and agility on his side."

Sauron regained his balance and began to swing the mace again, but this time Eonwe didn't give him the chance to get the momentum of the weapon moving sufficiently to make any kind of lethal blow. Instead of lunging with the sword and trying to pierce any vulnerable part of the armoured body that he could find, he went at Sauron in a dead run and body slammed him. Sauron staggered back again and swayed heavily for a moment. Both Elves winced in sympathy as Eonwe visibly gritted his teeth through the pain in his chest and shoulders but carried on circling his adversary.

The weight of his armour pushed Sauron backwards down towards the ground and he only just managed to put an arm out to stop himself falling flat. The impact of taking his full body weight travelled up his arm up into his shoulder and Eonwe heard a grunt of pain from within the helm. He wasted no time in celebrating the fact that he had caused Sauron discomfort and ignored the protests of his own muscle and bone which had solidly impacted with the armour. He ran towards him again but this time he lashed out with his left leg catching Sauron square in his chest, he then turned slightly and smacked him a stinging blow on the side of his helm with the flat of Gary's sword.

Sauron fell sideways. His ears were ringing and his head was reverberating from the sword blow. His mace was too heavy to lift in any kind of damaging blow from a half prone position, but he did manage to land one mailed fist on Eonwe's hip, a rather erratic blow which nevertheless sent the Herald toppling to the ground in a heap.

The sword flew out of Eonwe's hand and travelled a few feet away into the bushes. Sauron let out a roar of triumph and staggered to his feet. He was already swinging his mace as he did so.

Cirdan and Celeborn watched aghast and held their breaths. If joint prayers to the Valar could have got the stunned Herald onto his feet then they were both praying as hard as they could.

The huge spiked ball swooped inexorably towards Eonwe and the two watching Elves groaned in concert and prepared to spring forward to try and distract the black Maia in an effort to deflect the blow. However, even as they did so, Eonwe rolled twice and the spiked ball once again thudded onto empty space. Fine dry dust spewed up into the air and the force of the blow was so great that when the enraged Sauron dragged the mace back to him there was a depression in the ground deep enough for a small child to sit in.

Eonwe continued rolling until he reached the clump of bushes where the sword lay. He then sprang up, picking the sword up at the same time, and resumed the circling of his opponent.

"Dear Eru. I do not think my heart can take too much of this." Cirdan whispered. "I am far too old for this kind of tension. My last nerve simply will not stand it."

Celeborn sniggered, but his own heart was hammering so hard it was threatening to jump out of his chest. "Perhaps we should pay more attention to the battle behind us than what those two are doing." He remarked dryly. "I think they are evenly matched. Lord Eonwe's style of fighting is somewhat...unusual... to say the least, but it seems to be working."

Cirdan nodded and both Elves readily turned back into the fray behind them even as the three orcs who had been sneaking up on them almost reached them. For a split second, the two Elves and three orcs stood almost nose to nose with each other. It was a toss up as to who was more surprised, them or the orcs, but the surprise didn't last too long as, borne from long experience in battle, Cirdan immediately skewered the one in the front of him without preamble. He swiftly withdrew the weapon which made a satisfying squelch as it ripped through internal organs and muscle. He then swung it around almost horizontally to remove the head off the other orc's burly shoulders. Both orcs slumped bonelessly to the ground with a satisfying thud and black blood sprayed out wildly spattering anyone within earshot..

The second orc's head rolled over to Celeborn who had already dispatched his orc and was standing casually waiting for the elder Elf to deal efficiently with his opponents. He immediately put one foot out and stopped it from rolling further and then glanced around the battlefield for a target. He spied Erestor struggling with one skinny orc who was apparently trying to batter the Elf's head in with his iron shield.

Celeborn squinted speculatively and mentally calculated the distance between him and the skinny orc, then he booted the severed orc head with a superb shot worthy of a Manchester United (1) striker in the direction of Erestor's nemesis. The head travelled at almost jet propelled speed and hit the skinny little orc square on the side of his face.

The orc's cheekbone exploded in spray of blood and Erestor gulped in shock as the orc's yellow eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards. The iron shield clanked dully as it hit the ground and rolled away. Its stately progress before eventually coming to a halt smashed in the skull of a brutal looking warty grey skinned orc who was busy struggling to sit up after having regained consciousness under a heap of his dead or dying companions in arms a few feet away.

The young scout plunged his sword into his felled opponent to finish him off and saluted his thanks to Celeborn, who snorted with laughter and bowed in courteous reply.

"Youcould have helped me you know. I had two to your one." Cirdan growled at him as they both headed to where Gil-galad was valiantly holding off at least four orcs. Celebrimbor and the dwarf Bausi were busy fighting their way to the High King from the other side. The young dwarf's beard and mail were dripping with orc blood but he was swinging his axe with the best of them and he was laughing so hard his eyes had practically disappeared into his head.

They skirted past Gildor Inglorion who appeared to have temporarily mislaid his weapon and was busy sitting on an orc commander's chest while happily pounding its head in with the High King's star covered banner. He paused briefly to wave cheerfully at the two Elf lords, but resumed his determined pounding when the orc tried to drunkenly raise his head.

It suddenly occurred to Cirdan that the battle was rapidly assuming all the characteristics of a fine farce.

"You looked as though you were enjoying yourself so much I did not want to spoil your fun." Celeborn countered cheerfully. "Besides, I think I might have invented a new game played with round objects when we manage to find some spare time. It could be lots of fun. Especially if we had two opposing teams pitted against one another. Come on old man, let us go and kill some more orcs. I haven't enjoyed myself as much as this since...well...the last time."

Cirdan rolled his eyes in disgust. "I'll give you old man...you...whippersnapper..you. I'll have you know that I was killing orcs long before you were even a twinkle in your ada's eye." He said in exasperation, although he was also grinning at the same time. "With friends like you lot I am not sure that I need enemies!"

ooOoo

Eonwe couldn't afford to take notice of the chaos around him. He knew that although he was matched in strength and power to Sauron, the fact that he had no armour of any kind would work against him in hand to hand combat. He had to use Sauron's armour against him and use the abilities gained in a time yet to come in order to defeat the corrupt Maia. For the first time since he had come to Middle Earth in the form of his future identity, he tapped into the memories and thoughts of his future self and found much of interest and of use there.

As a warrior he had of course learned and trained others in a form of unarmed combat, but these moves that were filtering into his consciousness even as he faced Sauron were extraordinary. Apparently Gary had been taught by experts in something called martial arts. More specifically Taekwondo, and martial they were. In his rapid overview of Gary's training while he circled Sauron he discovered that Taekwondo training included a system of blocks, punches, and open-handed strikes and also various take-downs or sweeps, throws and joint locks. However the aspect that fascinated him the most was the fact that the art in general emphasized kicks thrown from a mobile stance, using the leg's greater reach and power to disable the opponent from a distance.

All of these combined with meditation and relaxation exercises combined with a focus on mental and ethical discipline, justice, etiquette, respect, and self-confidence made for a discipline that should be able to fell an opponent of much larger size without too much injury.

Now all Eonwe had to do was put it into practice. Easier said than done.

Focus. Centre yourself. Clear your mind. Ignore everything around you. Gary's voice sounded in the back of his mind. He is slower than you and he expects you to fight hand to hand with him and so you shall, only not quite in the way he expects you to. Combine everything you have learned in the past with what you learn in the future.

Eonwe drew a deep breath and looked inward. He concentrated on his spiritual core and was hardly aware that his body still moved around Sauron. As he did so he felt a combined spiritual strength lifting him up and he knew that those he served had not deserted him.

Wait for your opening and then strike when he is not expecting it.

The huge spiked ball hurtled towards him. He closed his eyes and launched himself into the air, slamming both of his feet into the side of Sauron's helm as he flew past him, then he rolled once and sprang lightly onto the balls of his feet.

By George I think he's got it! He could hear Gary's laughter bouncing around his mind and smiled slightly.

ooOoo

"He's good." Dutch remarked to no-one in particular. "Nice moves, bit of Taekwando in there methinks, along with the nifty swordplay. Must get him to show me a few of them when the dust settles."

Irish peered at the two figures doing their dance of death on the periphery of the battlefield. "Poetry in motion you might say." He cocked an eye at Dutch. "So, you dancin'?"

"You askin'?"

"I'm askin'."

Dutch uncurled from his prone position. "In that case, I am happy to accept your kind invitation, sir."

He held out his arm and Irish took it with a little mock curtsey. With weapons in hand they minced off down the slope causing muffled sniggers to erupt among the other troopers. Halfway down they broke into a dead and determined run and opened fire, duly followed by the rest of the snickering troop, with the exception of Billy the sniper who happily was picking orcs off left, right and centre from his vantage point on the hill and, of course, Rob Norman who sat in the bushes wishing he was somewhere...anywhere...else but with these absolute madmen.

"They're mad. They're all abso-fucking-lutely barking mad." Rob moaned with his head in his hands while Billy whooped with delight every time he squeezed the trigger and saw an orc fall.

ooOoo

Olorin closed his eyes and prepared to leave Chief's body, but before he could do it the Chief's fea squeezed back in.

"You have to let me out first." Olorin said patiently.

"No time mate. Things are going down." Chief Knowles said cheerfully. "You'll have to share the body with me until this is over."

"Who are you talking to?" Asked a very puzzled Glorfindel.

"Never mind. It's a bit complicated." Said Olorin and Chief Knowles a little testily and at the same time.

Glorfindel stared into the Chief's eyes. "Olorin? Is that you in there?"

Both Olorin and Chief Knowles were spared having to answer as five figures dressed entirely in black and wearing ski masks hurtled down the slope firing at will and laughing their heads off.

"What in the name of the Valar..." Gil-galad stopped fighting and stared open-mouthed as the remaining orcs dropped dead around him one by one as if by magic. The Elves and Dwarves watched in utter astonishment as the newcomers disposed of the remaining orcs rapidly and efficiently.

When the dust had settled one of the newcomers came up to Gil-galad and saluted. "Sergeant van Breda, 22 SAS Regiment, British Army sir. Do I have the honour of addressing the High King..." He stopped, took a small black covered notebook out of his pocket and examined it for a second. "...er...Gil-galad?" He pulled his ski mask off, smiled disarmingly and offered his hand to the High King.

All Gil-galad could do was nod his head up and down speechlessly.

ooOoo

Sauron was confused, to say the least. As soon as he staggered to his feet from the last kick or blow, another swift succession of kicks and punches sent him back down on the ground. So far he hadn't even managed to get one hit in with the mace. Something or someone of great power was lending strength to the Herald, either that or he had developed a seriously formidable new fighting technique since the last time Sauron had watched him train and fight with the Vala Tulkas.

Get out of there. Discard your corporeal body and return to Angband. Morgoth's order held a tone of distinct disgust and finality. He is playing with you and I need you here, not dead at Eonwe's feet. There can be no mileage gained from you continuing this fight. Your orcs are all dead and the weapon is lost to us, we must recoup our losses at another time.

For the first time in his long existence Sauron felt something akin to real frustration. But..I...

OBEY ME!

Pieces of armour crumpled abruptly to the ground and the black cloak settled over all like a shroud. Eonwe stepped back quickly as he realised that his adversary was no longer there. He had fled his corporeal form and gone crawling back to his master with his tail between his legs. The Herald's lip curled in utter contempt and he sent a thought message to the fleeing Maia.

This is NOT over Sauron, you will kneel to me and ask for leniency before the end.

ooOoo

(1) Manchester United, a Premiership League British football/soccer team.