Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 13
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Between the fact that orcs were notoriously outmatched by elves and dwarves, and the fact that several Ainur were present, they cracked open Angband after an intensified siege of 3 years. All the while, Maedhros spend almost more of his time making sure Celegorm did not storm south to try and find their brothers than he did participating in the siege.
Elu Thingol would not participate in the battles - even the presence of his brother not being enough to soften his heart regarding the Kinslaying at Alqualondë - but Doriath delivered a steady stream of supplies and healers into the camps of the Amanyar, so their leaders refrained from trying to push him into more.
It was near the end of the first year that Morgoth learned of the treachery of his Lieutenant, nearly breaking the Siege in torrents of flame from his mountain-peeks. Where before he had been grinding them down as they fought to gain entry, now he threw his gates wide open to hunt down the traitor. But the tightened and reinforced Leaguer held, securing both those living behind it, and those that had fled far from Beleriand in preparation of this event.
Still, many on both sides littered the northern edge of Ard-galen after that battle, as the fighting lasted two weeks before the wrath of the Dark Vala exceeded his reserves. A mist of blood lay over the field of a rather dubious victory, many great dwarves and Eldar slain for this victory, though by some grace of Eru the House of Finwë itself mourned no members.
After that, Fingolfin and Maedhros had to struggle to ensure that Angband was dismantled properly so that it could never rise again. More than once, either - or both - of them had to prevent someone from turning from the siege with their people to storm south for their kin. Occurences that were increasing the longer it took to clean the last hold-outs of orcs and whatever other unsavory things Morgoth had created.
Neither wanted to ever see any of those oversized snakes ever again that had slithered from some dark pit somewhere in the second year.
A few weeks before his treachery had been found out, when the Song he'd woven over the fake Silmarils failed through distance - though neither side knew it - Gorthaur had arrived in the spot he had chosen to settle until the Song's end. A ravine, carved out by a great river's side-arm, months of straight travel from Beleriand, even if one knew exactly where to go. Not that one would, as he had several times torn the Eldar through fire and flame, abruptly ending any trails they'd have left behind.
Finarfin was the first among all Eldar to lay eyes upon the Secondborn, spotting them camping along one of the many rivers they had followed. His two nephews were the second and third by just a few seconds, all three briefly freezing in their journey to just stare at these beings so alike to elves, yet so alien as well.
That night, and several following ones, the first inhabitants of what would later be called Harad would hear eerie voices on the desert winds, coming always from faraway dunes of sand. It would become a lesson to children, to not stray from the camp, especially at night, as the souls of the death prowled along the edges of the living's homes to claim them.
In this arid landscape, there was precious little of arable land, so there were few villages yet.
One of the larger ones found that it gained a new neighbor, a black mansion rising from nothing - so they claimed - along their waterway, within which a Lord took his seat and quickly claimed dominion over them. They offered little resistance - to be fair - as his three otherworldly servants by their mere presence grew the crops to twice, thrice their usual yield, and healed any wound with a mere touch... so spreading rumors would claim. Gifts beyond compare he'd grand those in his favor, finely woven fabrics and carpets, tools and weapons that nearly did the work by themselves.
And always, always, his beautiful golden shadow would grand experiences of untold delight, of song and dance that mesmerized the watcher for days afterwards.
As his once-Lord fell in the North, cast from Eä into the eternal Darkness, Gorthaur created for himself a Kingdom in the South.