Chapter Three: Booming Drums of the Regiment

The Doctor's warning had come almost too little too late. There was too much to do and no time in which to do it. "Barricade the doors," Celeborn shouted over the din, needlessly, for there were already a dozen Elves piling up everything within reach.

When the Doctor appeared at Celeborn's side, he anticipated his request. "No, you cannot leave Menegroth now. Not by the main gates. Your box, I am afraid, lies in the path of the Noldorin wolves."

"Oh, I know that," said the Doctor, all traces of whimsy and cheerfulness gone. "I was only going to ask if you'd like my assistance."

Celeborn paused, and looked at the Doctor. "You are no warrior, Doctor."

The Doctor's smile was positively flinty. "I know a handful of planets who would disagree. What do you need?"

"Well, some way to buy time, but – "

"Oh, excellent." The Doctor pulled a strange device from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Time happens to be my specialty."

Celeborn did not linger to see what the Doctor did to buy them time at the doors of Menegroth, or how his strange, small device he called a screwdriver could be of any use. Instead, Celeborn hurried to the armory. It was crowded and loud as Doriath's warriors scrambled to arm themselves. He saw more than one set of shaking fingers belonging to seasoned warriors who had never cowered before the servants of the Enemy.

This time, though, they would not be fighting orcs. They would be fighting Elves – Elves who were supposed to be their allies.

"Somewhere in Angband, Morgoth is laughing," Celeborn muttered as Galadriel joined him. She did not reply as she helped him don his armor, her nimble fingers tugging on straps and fastening the buckles he could not reach. "Where are the children?"

"In their rooms. Nimloth has gone to take them deeper into the caves."

"If we cannot drive them back – "

"We will see them safely out of one of the back doors. Nimloth and I have already spoken of this." Galadriel stepped behind Celeborn and swiftly plaited his hair away from his face. "My heart tells me it will not be long before we look upon the Sea." There was something in her voice that reminded Celeborn of Finrod when he had spoken of his oath to Barahir, and what it meant for his ultimate fate. He didn't like it.

But she disappeared to wherever the women were gathering before he could ask her about it, so Celeborn sought out Dior. "The Silmaril is safe," Dior said before Celeborn could ask. "Nimloth is away with the children."

"Galadriel has told me they are safe." Celeborn handed Dior his sword.

Dior took it, and for a moment just stared at the hilt. It had belonged to Beren. Finally, he said, "The Doctor – he visited us several times in Tol Galen. Once, he took me with him when he left."

"What?"

"We traveled to another world. It was incredible, out there among the stars." Dior gestured toward the ceiling. "But in that other world, there was trouble. Not terribly unlike what is happening here..."

"So the Doctor brought you home," Celeborn said, thinking of the way the Doctor had looked at River when he spoke of leaving.

Dior shook his head. "No. We stayed, and he thwarted the invading forces. The Doctor does not wield a sword, but he is formidable, when he needs to be. An entire world, not only a kingdom, was threatened, and he almost single-handedly stopped it." He looked up at Celeborn, and suddenly looked so young. Celeborn felt something in his gut twist. "So why was he so desperate to leave Doriath before the Fëanorions arrived?"

Because they were fated to fall, perhaps. "But the Doctor is here, now. If he is as great a warrior as you say – "

"He is not a warrior. Not like you or me. He cannot bluff his way into intimidating Fëanor's sons, especially not Curufin or Celegorm, who I am sure are motivated as much by hatred for me as by their Oath. Whatever the Doctor can do for us will not change the tide of battle. It will only buy us some time."

"Used wisely, time can change a battle's tide," Celeborn replied. "The future is not set in stone, no matter what the Doctor may think he knows, and while we still breathe, there is hope."

They went to join the rest of the soldiers, but before they reached them Dior stopped. "Celeborn."

"Your grace?"

"If the battle goes ill – and if something happens to me – "

"Dior – "

"You must get my children – and Nimloth, and everyone else you can – and get away. If there is no hope of victory you must not linger."

Abandoning Menegroth went against every fiber in his being, but Celeborn had never been able to look Lúthien in the eye and deny her anything, and she had given those same eyes to Dior. And there were more important things than a fortress, even one as beautiful and ancient as Menegroth. So he nodded.

They found the Doctor busily giving directions while doing something to some thread with his…screwdriver, which was glowing and making some sort of odd whining noise that set Celeborn's teeth on edge. "Doctor…?" Dior began.

"You need to buy time. I can buy you time," said the Doctor. "This place is a labyrinth, but everyone who lives here knows it like the back of their hand, correct? Correct. But Team Fëanor will have absolutely no idea where they are going."

"So we're going to fight them with thread…?"

"You catch on quickly," the Doctor said, beaming. "I've strengthened it a bit." He briefly waved his screwdriver. "Just to make sure it won't break. String it across the hallway and down they go! Like dominos! Only bigger, and probably armored so louder, too, all clangy."

"They won't just go rushing down corridors," Dior said. "Whatever else you may say about them, they are not stupid."

"That's why we'll give them something to chase," said River, appearing at the Doctor's side. "Hello, Sweetie."

The Doctor glared at her. "I thought I told you to go with – "

"I did. Then I came back."

Celeborn glanced around. They stood in the grand entrance hall, with many hallways and doors leading off of it. "But how do we control which corridors they choose?" he wondered aloud. Dior turned and surveyed the bustling room. "Ones that will lead them deep into Menegroth…"

"You won't win this battle in here," the Doctor said. "Not caught off guard with extremely limited warning – "

"No thanks to you," Celeborn muttered.

The Doctor ignored him. "There are back doors, and there's the front door. If we can lure enough of the Noldorin forces into the depths of this place, everyone can slip out of the various exits and head to some rendezvous of your choice. After that I suggest you head south. Maybe following the River Sirion…"

"We will not give up Menegroth unless there is absolutely no other choice," Dior said firmly.

"Well a couple of booby traps I'm thinking of will probably, you know, bring ceilings down," the Doctor began. "So it may or may not be particularly habitable after all is said and – "

But Dior interrupted sharply, "We have rebuilt before, we can do it again." Gone was any sign of doubt or concern for what-ifs. Lúthien's eyes flashed with Beren's sharp determination, enough to silence anyone who dared protest his judgment once it was passed, and gone was the flash of vulnerability Celeborn had seen before. Dior was young, but he was strong and more than capable, both as a leader and as a warrior.

The Doctor sighed, and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. "All right, you're the king..."

Celeborn was still skeptical about being able to drive the Noldor like cattle where they wanted them to go in Menegroth. And he was concerned about the sons of Fëanor themselves, who were certainly not stupid. How could they be? Fëanor may have been mad, but he had been brilliant, too.

Part of Celeborn hoped he would get to face at least Celegorm, or Curufin. None in Doriath had ever forgiven them their treatment of Lúthien.

Everyone worked swiftly to implement the Doctor's ideas to trap the Noldor, and to guide them into parts of Menegroth where it was deemed the Sindar would have the advantage in battle. Thin threads and cords were laid criss-cross down the corridors, looped around things on the walls. A tug at the end once they were ready would raise the cords and pull them taught so that any hurrying through the darkness would trip – again and again. Those skilled in building and carving stone worked to weaken arches and ceilings to fall at the slightest careless move. While they did that, Dior sent the vast majority of Doriath's soldiers deep into Menegroth, to wait with their swords and bows. A smaller force remained near the gates, to engage the Noldor but briefly before fleeing.

"Would that we had the cover of darkness," Oropher muttered when they were nearly done. But there was no time to remove all the crystal lamps that lit the halls. "How will they not see what we have done?"

"No worries there," said the Doctor. He held up his screwdriver. "Say the word, and the only light you'll find in here will come from torches." Oropher narrowed his eyes at the device, clearly not believing a word the Doctor said. But Dior nodded, so the rest of them had no choice but to take the Doctor at his word.

A loud BOOM made all of them jump. Even the Doctor tensed; River gripped his arm. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Rhythmical and steady, Celeborn felt the ground tremble beneath them. The great gates of Menegroth shook. Dust rained down from the ceiling around them. BOOM. The sound of chiseling ceased, and all of Menegroth fell silent.

It was beginning, and they weren't ready.