Chapter Three

"When the trumpets of war end,

when the cries of victory ascend.

When winds rise across the Western sea,

when the lost one once more becomes free.

Two souls a hero reborn shall arise,

strong he will be and wise.

Elven blood mixed with magic's heart,

restore the lost and bring back the start.

For all shall look upon the city on the hill,

Elven hope that can strengthen Hope's will.

Side by side with Death he'll stand,

the beacon of hope, a beacon planned,"

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It was the dead of night on the raised plateau that the Vanyarin and Noldorin Elves called their home when the first telltale signs of danger is felt by anybody. Years of living in safety with the sharp eyes of the Eagle, Thorondor looking out for any danger on the valley made the Elven settlement complacent. Guard duty which is supposed to be taken seriously is more of a punishment for disobedient and rowdy trainees of Maglor than a duty to be taken into serious account. And sometimes the Elves even skipped that part of their daily routine when they found an excuse to celebrate and party; which is everyday since the Vanyar especially loved music and food that can even make up for some of their Noldor cousins' serious attitude. More times than anyone can count, the Deep Elves got roped into the rowdy parties of the Light Elves. As stoic as they are, no elf can resist the lure of good music and food. So when the first signs came in that they are being attacked came in, the full and happily satisifed Elder race is unprepared to deal with it.

The two unlucky sentrties got the worst of it. Bored, unattentive and barely paying attention to their surroundings, the two ellons got murdered brutally before they've even seen what killed them. Its lucky of course that the goblins completely lack understanding on the meaning of the word "subtelty". The moment they killed the two sentries, their death still served a small meaning as their cries of pain as they are torn to pieces by goblin hands echoed in the air waking up thye entire settlement.

For Maedhros who had been electing on sleeping at his surrogate mother's bosom at night (much to his father's chagrin since he can't partake of his husband duties with the little elfling present) to make up for the lack of a mother in his life, the first cry is more than enough on waking him up full tilt. Both memories of being an Auror and an elven general leading soldiers behind enemy lines made him more than ready to react to any unknown sound in wariness and hostility.

Fortunately he's not the only one awoken by the sounds of death that the guards made. His father, also a veteran of the War of the Jewels sprang from the bed as if he didn't sleep at all. This is the first time that Maedhros found his father serious. Gone is the laid back and slightly lazy ellon who prefers playing his hapr every time that he has free time and lazing around watching the clouds. Replacing him is an stern-faced ellon radiating a powerful aura that made everyone around him submit to his authority. This is an ellon who had strength and power at his side. An ellon who had fought against the darkness with all his might and survived.

"Theririen!" his father shook his mother awake since Theririen despite her attitude of confidence is not experienced as his father and did not react to the first telltale sounds of alarm. Not that she needed further prodding.

The moment that she managed to open half-lidded eyes woozy from sleep, screams sounded from outside their house snapping her to full awakeness as she sat on the bed, her piercing grey eyes filled with fear as the screams are followed by hollering of snarling voices that had no meaning on it. Having only one enemy on this valley, she of course knows what things are outside.

"Maglor what-," she began almost hysterically but got cut off as his father threw a night robe at her. Maedhros who had attempted to crawl away from her bosom to go and see what the hell's going on got trapped once more in her arms.

"Put that on woman and stay silent!" hissed Maglor and Maedhros didn't fail to see the leather stained scabbard attached at his father's right hip. Where did he get that from? And why is that the first time Maedhros has seen it? He had been doing his best to know every nook and cranny of this plateau ever since they called this their home.

The three of them padded towards the door led by his father, their footfalls barely making any sound as all Elves can do when they wished to. Normally he would have protested vehemently to enter the fray but he's knowledgeable enough that he would simply be denied. He is a twenty year old elfling with very little sparring experience (despite already the knowledge of a veteran Elven Prince) and his father would never let him. So just for now he would follow his father's lead protecting him and his mother. The fact that he would bolt the first chance he got to activate his traps that he made many weeks already he would do so. He'll be damned if he lost another family.

They barely got to open the doors when it suddenly burst open, the locks flying inside as five ugly squatting beings clad only in loincloth with brownish oily and wrinkled skin step in. Their faces looked like they have been plowed down by a very angry mob and if not for the salivating of their crooked mouths and glinting madness on their eyes; he would have found their appearance funny. Maedhros have established many years ago in his first life that despite his best efforts, he would never view goblins in his world as beautiful. The poor midgets are ugly, plain and simple. Comparing them however to the goblins that are now standing at the threshold of their house, they are a million times better looking.

These goblins almost made Grawpy, Hagrid's half-giant brother look like a civilized being in terms of attire. They are naked, their skin dry and wrinkled with hairy undergrowth jutting out like weeds all over their bodies. Their eyes are squinted and unbalanced colored yellow and they are bald with small tufts of hair only. Yellow is their teeth and it seems that they each of them are missing parts of it as they smiled or snarled. Their armor also imitates their ugliness. Wearing only a loincloth, they are armored in skulls and bits of metal and wood badly made. The weapons they bore is also the same, looking more like makeshift spears made by picking up wood and sharpening them or pieces of metal simply heated and sharpened. All in all, they are ugly, stupid-looking and positively dangerous.

There was a flash of light and before Maedhros can even blink, five headless bodies fell to the ground still twitching, their thuds followed by more thuds as five heads followed up. There a few steps from away from them is Maglor, his sword drawn and his face grim looking at the dead bodies. Never had Maedhros ever seen his father looking so grim before. He normally is so laid back and always being hen-pecked by his wife. To see him now as he is, brought his attention to his memories of the greatest poet and singer of Middle-Earth fighting in the Elder Days against powers greater than these goblins.

Apparently his mother, Theririen shared the same opinion as he does about his father being a great warrior for she stood there dumbly still holding him with a glint in her eyes he had never seen before from her. It is broken though when another goblin came howling from the door and Maglor intercepted it, blocking its raised weapon before slashing at its neck in the matter of seconds leaving it choking on its blood.

"Come," he urged still in that cold neutral tone that made the only female on the small family shake her head to clear her thoughts before she suffered being led outside. The moment they stepped out though, what they saw was complete disaster.

If there are two words that can describe the outside though, is utter pandemonium. Non-combatant elves are running left and right in full panic like headless chickens. Fire is everywhere despite the storm that had fallen hard into the valley. The simple makeshift houses that the Elven settlement called their homes are burning and the enlarged space where the Elves used to gather for food, merriment and song is almost non-existent with the chairs, tables and benches overturned and the large circle where the wood was stored cracked open. Goblins are also everywhere hollering and laughing with glee as they chased the panicked elves with their makeshift weapons. More than one unfortunate elf have already been victimized by them, either moaning in pain on the ground with bruises, concussions and small wounds and the unlucky ones dead with a cracked skull or with a stabbed wound. Not all is hopeless though, even with his small eyes, Maedhros can see from the distance a small pocket of Elves in a combination of sleepwear and armor fighting back. It is plain obvious that the severe training of Maglor over the decade is paying off. Even with their scant number of less than sixty, the small group of fighters is cutting a swath through the goblin crowd that dare try to stop them. There and here also are individual fighters like his father trying their best to stem the goblin tide that is coming from the entrance where Maedhros supposed the goblin leader is "Leading". If you could call shouting non-followed orders and cackling to himself, leading that is. Still, large numbers of goblins are still trickling in from the entrance of the plateau and despite the defense made by the brave elves; they would be overrun anytime soon. In his experience, eight times out of ten quantity always trumps quality after all; especially if said quantity also had the advantage of surprise on their side. Not to mention that the Elven defenders have to be extra careful here or risk themselves hitting the non-combatants. The Goblins on the other hand have no such liability and are hacking left and right, especially those that managed to push through the confused milling of the Elven population.

His father must have connected the dots as he had for he immediately turned towards his wife, his expression more of a seasoned warrior than the laid back musician they have come to know.

"I want you to bring Maedhros and whomever you could grab to the cliff side," he ordered to the hyperventilating elleth who looked ready to panic any second now. "Look at my eyes Theririen!" he ordered making the shaking mother stare at the stern eyes that held strength which calmed her down a bit. "Listen to me! Take Maedhros with anyone you can grab along the way to the side of the cliffs," he repeated. "If you could reach that place, old Thorondor will protect you as best as he can and the goblins won't follow you there. Do you understand me?!"

"W-what about you?" the stuttering elleth asked in concern despite her fear.

"I will go to the others and lead them to holding off these vermin as best as we can to buy as many time as possible for survivors to follow you," he answered. Despite his words of assurance though, Maedhros could see the outright lie being spouted by his surrogate father to his mother.

The goblins are too many and the elven defenders are too few. Despite their skill and bravery they would be overrun if they make a stand. It is simply inevitable. The best that they can do now is to hold them off and save as many as they can. It is simply a pity that the Great Eagle didn't join the fray. The sight of it alone is enough to make any sane goblin cower, but they are too many. Thorondor may be a good friend to the Elves of this plateau, but it is his instinct not to intervene, especially if his life is in jeopardy. He would follow his instinct over his friendship anytime. Maglor must also be counting on that instinct. Thorondor may choose not to get involved on this fight, but if the goblins dare come close to his nest, heavily outnumbered or not, he would prove hostile to them. That's why he ordered his surrogate mother to go there. They may have no way off this plateau with one path only leading in and out of it, but they have refuge if they ran at the direction of the Great Eagle's nest.

"Don't wait for me, go!" commanded the greatest musician of Middle-Earth once more just in time to twirl his sword backwards to a charging goblin who failed to put the break on its charge, its neck colliding to the sharpened edge separating the head from the rest of its body.

As for Theririen, she didn't need any more second urgings to run as the elleth made a mad dash through the raging chaos, holding on to Maedhros with a frantic grip. She never stopped, her free left hand grabbing whoever that is on her way to follow her. More than one unlucky ellon or elleth nearly lost their footing as they are yanked without warning by the escaping mother. Already a small crowd is following her as they evaded tents and trampled lonesome goblins that got separated from their main group. Two elven warriors in a combination of pajamas and armor also came along for the ride and it's a good thing too for their swords are working overtime on clearing stray goblins that managed to stand on their way.

It may be a good thing for the Elves running for safety. On their frantic mad dash though to escape their invaders and the fire that is now burning the homesteads that have risen during their stay here, none of them noticed the disgruntled face of a young elfling that is slowly rising in complete annoyance as he got farther and farther from the direction that he wanted to go.

In his past life, Hermione called it a saving people thing. Harry preferred to call it, acting on impulse. In his good opinion, it saved more lives than he can count during his term as an Auror. His instincts have already been honed by the sharp training regimen and by adding Maedhros' memories added more fuel to the fire to the point that his sense during battle is heightened to the point of being paranoid. And currently right now, said instincts are screaming at him to take action to save these people.

His father's plan is good and solid, nothing wrong there. It would cost them a lot of lives however. With this group of escaping Elves heading for Thorondor's eyrie for safety, the rest of the community that haven't been snagged along the way is used as bait for the goblins to murder and capture. It is a logical decision, his father made. Sacrifice the few for the good of the many. Maedhros personally doesn't refute that fact. He can do something however to make a difference that would spare a lot of lives.

Maedhros never planned to show his magical capabilities to his new parents and people. Call it a child's hesitation but the reborn wizard would rather be forever cut off from his magic than lose the love that he found on his new parents and the recognition of his people. Only the fact that his fatal flaw is loyalty and the desire to save lives made him act on the decision he never in a hundred years wished to do.

With his surrogate mother's arms holding him, he can't move and do what is needed to be done. With his chubby arms and little body, the best he can do is just wiggle. So he used the only weapon he had left that can make her drop him, his teeth.

The result was immediate.

The moment that his growing bones in the mouth managed to clamp on the forearm of his mother, the tight grip she had on him immediately loosened in surprise and reaction to the pain making her drop him in instinct. Maedhros didn't wait to look back at her as he landed on his legs, training kicking in despite his small frame as he used the impact to propel himself forward at the direction back to the camp through a sea of legs.

"Maedhros!" the heartbroken cry of her mother nearly made him stop and look back. Theririen might be his surrogate mother, but he loved her like his real one and she loved him with the same deepness as he does. Eldar are awesome that way compared to men. Even not related by blood, once their hearts latched to another be it for familial or romance, it latched on completely. That's the reason why King Thingol of Doriath adopted Turin, Son of Hurin in the Elder Days despite him being human and he, an elf. Not even Turin's death separated him from his elven father's love.

It took all of his self-discipline and self-control on both lives not to stop running and turn back. He knew of course that there's the risk of her trying to follow him to catch up but he's banking on the fact that the other elves won't let her. He's right in a way. Theririen barely made two steps to follow her wayward son when one of the elven warriors who is a second too late to notice the child escaping, grabbed the estranged mother on the waist, to prevent her from following him going back to a sea of goblins and getting herself killed. Not that it stopped her from crying out her child's name again and again as they dragged her with them. She did not need to know that every call of hers literally ripped another rent from her son's heart. He had to grit his teeth as her cries become more distant and distant until he can't hear them anymore.

It's a good thing too for with the distraction, he nearly missed the goblin that crept from his behind and barely managed to blast it away with a bout of accidental magic that sent said goblin flying away the moment he noticed it. Normally, Harry, even at the peak of his Auror days won't be able to use accidental magic. There's a good reason after all it only happens to infant wizards and witches. The narrow minded focus that only a child's heightened emotion has can trigger it and no adult no matter how skilled can use it willingly. That's the reason why wizards need wands and other such mediums to unleash their power. It is only thanks to his reincarnation part of experience about perfected concentration did he manage to even just simply release his magic in that blast. Even then, he barely managed to use it. Magic is chaotic and does not like to be commanded. Most mediums unknown to popular belief only siphoned trickles from it that is used on everyday spells. That's why wands broke when too much power is used on one spell cast.

As it is, Maedhros took the time to hide on one of the more intact tents that did not catch on fire. That one single use of magic nearly drained him and his vision is getting foggy. His young body still hasn't acclimated on the amount of magic that he was once used as an adult. Avoid and evade it is until he can reach the Cliffside.

Peeking through the side of the tent, he can espy with sharp eyes that the goblins have now stopped running after confused civvies and are rather now focusing on a small group of Elves at the east side of the plateau that managed to draw the goblin ranks' ire. Despite their small number compared to the ugly beings, the Elves led by the familiar shade of black and red hair of his father are causing enough ruckus and casualties among the goblins and are buying enough time for the civvies to reorganize and escape as they are pushed to step by step back to the cliff side by simply sheer force of numbers. It is exactly the opposite direction of the runes he made on the western part of the cliff.

Mentally thanking the Valar (the Elven deities that the Elves recognized as their gods) for this opportunity, Maedhros escaped cover and made a fast dash as fast as his small legs can carry him towards the direction of the cliff wall. Of course he's realistic enough that with his short size and short limbs, he won't get there without the goblins spotting him. He's banking though that he'll get there before they can get him.

No such luck.

The moment that he left cover, dozens pairs of eyes immediately zeroed in on his tiny frame and the small elfling doesn't need to look at the source of shouts and screams to know that they have started to give chase to him. After all, a single young elfling is a better target for the goblin rabble instead of a well-trained group of trapped elves. Judging from the faint call of his father despite the ruckus and the thundering rain, he too has spotted him.

Not slowing down one bit, Maedhros forced his stubby legs to even move faster as the cliff wall gets larger and larger as he gets near it. The fact though that he could almost hear the breathing of the goblins almost looming in his ear is definitely alarming. Slowing down only for him to raise his left hand at the direction of the goblins, Maedhros gritted his teeth as the familiar tug on his being is released catching the small-fry goblins by surprise as they seemed to ran into some kind of invisible brick wall that made them stumble each other like dominoes over one another. Add the mud to it and they are literally dogpiling.

Maedhros though didn't stay to look as he continued to just now jog urging his body to move on. That last bout of released magic took a lot of him more than he expected and he's vision is starting to get blurry. Damn this childish body for being so weak! (Not that he's protesting when he's fussed over by different gorgeous elleth). What's the point of all those memories of fighting if he can't do jack shit to perform them anyhow?

The sudden blinding pain in his brow nearly made Maedhros cross-eyed as he bumped on something extremely solid and sharp. Landing on his butt, his right hand immediately went towards his forehead feeling the warm sticky blood there. He mentally cursed as the realization sets in that he had just ran straight to the cliff wall without even realizing it.

Even from his dazed state he could clearly see the rune engravings he marked there almost on reaching point. Gritting his teeth as the dizziness and the desire to faint grow stronger every second, he immediately pushed his small body to stand as steadily as he could and slapped his bloody right hand at the nearest rune.

"My home is threatened!

Rise! Rise up Oh Kings of Old!

Heed my call! Darkness has come.

Protect us! Man the Boundaries! Do your duty to your master!"

"Piertotum Locomoto!"

For a split second, Maedhros panicked as he finished his incantation without anything happening. It's not supposed to happen like this. As his consciousness slowly drift away, the last thing that the reborn wizard thought he imagined is the very cliff itself awaken.

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Fear, that's what all Maglor felt as he saw the small elfling that is both his brother and son appear out of nowhere very near the goblin ranks. In his entire life of service, never did Maglor felt such a fear that literally gripped his very soul and nearly yanked it out of his body the moment the goblins moved their attention from his small band of elves to the small figure heading towards the bloody cliff of all places where there is nowhere to hide.

Never did his fea burned so hotter then.

Grabbing a fallen spear from one of his wounded men, he charged; roaring with a savagery and power that has not beene seen since the Elder Days. Strong is the Firstborn of Eru Illuvatar and stronger are the ones who have witnessed the Light of Aman before the death of the Two Trees and the Rising of the Sun. Fel fury literally burned through him as the same madness that gripped his father, Feanor as he plowed through the misshapen ranks of the goblin army, sword and spear carving a swath through their numbers. His warriors inspired by his bravery charged forward, his fury leading them on. The fact that an elfling is in danger only added even more fuel to the already raging fire. No one can stop them as they literally tore to pieces anyone who dared stand on their way. And in the front, Maglor son of Feanor led it all. No sword or stone, no weapon pierced him even as he recklessly charged with abandon.

He didn't even stop as he saw the goblins nearest to his child stop dead on their tracks as if hitting an invisible wall before being blasted back towards his direction. He just had to reach his son before they does. So when he saw his bleeding little boy faint clutching the rocks with a bloody hand, he nearly lost it. Keyword there is "nearly".

The moment that his little elfling fell unconscious, it was followed by a scream, a terrible scream that literally ripped the rocks of the mountainside making the burning fury inside his fea to halt without question. Both goblins and elves battling each other also stopped as they drop to their knees covering their ears as the scream continued followed by another and another, sounding both male and female consecutively. Some of the goblins even died as blood oozed from their orifices, their sensitive hearing that is very useful in the dark overloaded.

If the scream is not enough for the surprise, what happened next is.

The very rocks of the mountainside cracked open like an egg as twelve humongous figures made of metal and silver slowly arose, runes of power on their armor shining brightly despite the storm. They towered over them all and Maglor with all his might and strength felt like a tiny ant as he saw them looming over them all. The nearest one of them, (and tallest) with sleek armor, a waist cape, and horns protruding from its shoulders and helmet with a longsword bent down looking at them all. Maglor himself is unable to move in trepidation the moment its head swiveled to him as if in assessment. From behind him, he could hear his warriors scuffling over one another. It is as if they are hoping that clumped together as they are would help them. That big ass sword can wipe them all with one go. As the large metal head swiveled towards the direction of the goblins, Maglor felt himself able to breathe again, not even noticing that he had been holding his breathe the entire time.

It's a good thing then that the current goblin king is stupid and a fool who did not like being glared at, even by giants who looked more than capable of rearranging the entire landscape on their whim.

"What are ya fools waiting for?! Kill them all. I want scrap metal tonight for souvenir!"

Either from stupidity or fear, the smaller goblins hollered and followed without any sort of question as they charged forward recklessly waving their small weapons without abandon. What happened would then be seared into Maglor's memory forever.

For someone so big, the large walking figure moved so fast that the Elven musician barely saw it. One moment, it was staring down the goblins, the next its sword is already sideways, rending the very Earth apart leaving nothing but a bloody trail on the ground for the unfortunate goblins that got flattened with its attack. The biggest one of them all is no one else of course but the goblin king of course. The Elves themselves aren't spared. The shockwave of the sudden attack caught everyone off guard and it's only his years of experience that saved Maglor from landing on his ass like everyone else as the goblins now leaderless began running this way and that, galvanizing the other elves to grab whatever sharp object that they can get their hands on and finish off the vermin that dared invade their home.

As for Maglor, he took the time to run forward and pick up his unconscious son/brother, cradling his knocked out form in his lap. The large shadows that loomed over them made Maglor stand up, one hand holding his unconscious son, the other holding his rather now looking insignificant sword against twelve fifteen feet beings looking down at him and his boy.

"He has called, we have answered. Rule well, young king," the one who had finished off the goblins said as he stood tall in a line with his other fellows at the mountainside before remaining still as a statue just in time for the first tell-tale signs of the dawn to start entering the region, bathing the plateau with orange light.

As for Maglor, he can only hold unto his son in marvel and question upon question with it. "What are you Maedhros?"

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AN: So that's that. Please Review and Like pips.