A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful comments! This chapter covers most of the battle also known as The Nirnaeth Arnoediad. It's about a horrible battle, so please be warned that it might be upsetting for you to read. I didn't write it very explicit, but please try to use your own judgement when reading this.
Also, writing battles is difficult. Very difficult.
This is part one of a very large chapter, so I cut it in two. Part two will be posted somewhere in the next few days.
*
Current ages:
Elarinya 17 (88)
Lindariel 14 (76)
War was awful.
It was loud, depressing and utterly exhausting.
She could hear the sounds of the people outside, the noises of horses and soldiers preparing themselves for the battle that is to come. The sounds of indistinct voices all around them, thousands of them at every moment of the day. Songs and stories spread like wildfire, as did gossip. People connected and people fought.
There was no peace to be found in a war camp.
And there certainly wasn't any peace found in the healer tents.
The scent of burning flesh, blood and other unspeakable things were forever lodged in her nose and Elarinya thought she might never be able to smell anything else again. She missed the clean air of Menegroth, the scent of pine trees and wildflowers.
She missed home, her friends and most of all, her naneth.
El had been with her parents when the call for aid came, brought to them by two of Maedhros' brothers. A pair of identical copper-headed twins, Amrod and Amros. Or as they introduced themselves, Ambarussa.
Stubbornly cheerful and with solemn eyes that spoke of loss, Elarinya felt a spike of deja-vu when she first met them. There had been a pair of twins she'd liked reading about in her past life, she thought. Red-headed and mischievous, this new pair of twins could be their brothers.
She liked them.
As had her best friend, Lindariel. Although the Ambarussa couldn't stay long, they did leave the court with an impression. They delivered the message and then stayed to rest their weary horses for a day before returning to their brother. A pity, because the two of them had some interesting ideas that were very different from the training she was used to.
And delighted in throwing both her, Lindariel and everyone else who wanted to give it a try into the dirt all while teaching them those moves.
The girl who'd become her dearest friend had quickly joined her in training, even as young as she'd been back then. And she was good. A natural with a sword in ways that Elarinya could never be and she didn't need her Foresight to know that Lindariel would grow into a fearsome warrior.
But not yet.
Elarinya could be compared to a seventeen year-old now, but her friend was twelve years younger than her and looked to be around fourteen. Too young for war.
They both were.
Her father had been sending out troops for years already, ever since he'd formally become a part of the alliance commonly called Maedhros Union. Troops, but never such a large force as they were now asking for.
This time it was different.
This time it was serious.
Her mother's Foresight had been carrying dark messages on dark wings for weeks, showing her vague images full of desolation and despair.
In response to her mother's warnings, the king and his lieutenants had been training hard, pushing the soldiers of Doriath and themselves as far as they could go.
Doriath was going to war.
And it would take her father with it.
King Thingol would lead his forces, and his wife and Queen would rule Doriath in his stead.
Elarinya had been stubborn then, and had declared she was old enough to help out in the war against Morgoth. Her parents had refused at first, unwilling to let their eighty-eight year old daughter go off to war. She was still underage, but they'd recognized the stubborn glint in her eyes.
And so they'd offered a compromise.
Elarinya would join the healers in the healer tents under the leadership of her master, Healer Galion. She would not take up arms, not unless it was to defend herself and hers, she would not look for trouble or even be near anything that could endanger her. She would listen to Healer Galion and run when he told her to.
She would stay with her father in his tent, and allow her personal guard to stay close whenever she was in the healing tents.
And most of all, Elarinya would not step even one foot on the battlefield.
It hadn't been hard to make that promise.
She wasn't ready to enter the battlefield, not by a long shot. She could fight yes, but the chaos and violence of open battle was not something she thought she could do.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But she needed to help in some way. Her parent's fears were reasonable, but she could help. El felt it all the way down to her bones that she could help her people, and this was the way she could do so. And her parents knew it too.
And so they marched.
Under the eagle eye of Healer Galion, El had long since learned how to set bones, treat stab wounds and various other injuries. But battlefield healing was different, and so she also learned how to talk to her patients out of the waking dreams that haunted them, and how to heal with athelas.
It wasn't easy.
But it was something she was good at.
The girl she'd been, the girl she'd left behind would have been horrified by all the violence around her. But Elarinya wasn't that girl anymore. She hadn't been for a long while.
She was Elarinya Celebereth. Daughter of King Elu Thingol and Maiar Melian. Sister of Lúthien and Beren. Proud aunt to Dior. She was the Crown Princess of Doriath and a healer in training.
And so Valar help her, she would aid her people in any way she could.
By healing them.
They hadn't seen battle on a big scale yet. Just skirmishes that already kept the healers busy enough as it was. Because it wasn't only soldiers that entered her care, there were also the refugees.
She sang healing songs and used her fäe to calm and to soothe. El sang to hasten the healing process on the worse of the injuries, and to bring a final moment of peace to those she could not keep from Mandos' embrace.
And if she cried in a corner somewhere after a soldier in her care died, well, at least the cries of the wounded muffled the sound of her own grief.
"You are doing so well, my dear." Galion murmured softly, patting her on the back. "A natural healer. But princess, you also know not everyone can be healed. A hard lesson to learn, but you did your very best to save this unfortunate soul. He'll enter Námo's Halls knowing that in his last moments, he wasn't alone. So wipe away those tears and have faith in that at least."
He'd been her master in healing for over a decade now and she'd truly grown into her role as his apprentice. He was gruff, serious and often brutally honest, but so very kind. She trusted him more than anyone else in this tent, yet it was hard to accept what he was trying to tell her.
Death was different for elves, and it was still something she was getting used to.
"It doesn't feel like I'm doing enough." Elarinya admitted, voice choked by tears. "I don't even know his name. How will we ever be able to tell his family what happened to him?"
She knew the answer to that question even as she asked it, and so did he.
Not everyone could be returned to their loved ones.
"Ah, young one." Galion murmured in sad understanding, squeezing her shoulder. "None of that. We do what we can and the rest is in the hands of Námo. Remember that, princess."
Even religion was different in this life. Here the Valar, the gods of this world, were actually proven to be real. While distant figures to most, they could be asked to help and help could be given.
"I could do more." She hummed noncommittally, eyes not meeting his. "I could fight."
"Your parents could kill me." The Healer said dryly. El choked on her spit, stifling the slightly hysterical laugh that threatened to burst out.
"Galion!"
He chuckled. "Are we not stating random facts today?"
Elarinya rolled her eyes, and dried her tears. "You made your point. Very well, I should return to my patients. If only to save your life from my wrathful ada."
"Personally," The old healer spoke dryly, a cheeky glint in his green eyes. "I'm rather more afraid of your queen-mother. Melian is not to be taken lightly."
The Healer and her mother had been good friends ever since she'd married Thingol, which only made his dryly spoken words funnier.
El laughed, and called over her shoulder, "And that makes you one of the smart ones, master. Naneth is scary."
The battle wasn't going well. Even with a Silmaril in the hand of the Fëanorions, the war wasn't going well. Morgoth had a long time to prepare and it showed. More and more patients entered the healing tents and with them came news from the battlefields.
The North of Beleriand was already lost to them, taken over in the last few years by Morgoth and his foul creations. Now it was midsummer and the host of Fingon and Maedhros had been joined by Doriath, Dwarves and Men alike.
Yet the Silmaril in the hands of the Fëanorions did make a difference. Because when it touched one of the sons of Fëanor, the jewel shone with a breathtakingly beautiful light.
And no fell creature of darkness could withstand it.
Sat upon a circlet with the jewel shining brightly upon his brow, Maedhros made a handsome sight as he rode through their forces, bringing hope and light as he went. Everyone who entered her tent agreed on that at least. Silmaril or no Silmaril, kinslayer or no kinslayer, he basically radiated light.
Maedhros Fëanorion's spirit burned like white fire and the orcs and their ilk fled before him.
Her puppy crush had long since passed, but she wouldn't deny that the eldest of Fëanor's sons still made her heart flutter. Just a bit. She still thought the red mane that was his hair was the prettiest color she'd seen on an ellon, though she also saw the beauty in the silver of the Sindar or the gold of the Vanya.
But he was not for her.
One just had to look how the High King of the Noldor and his cousin looked at each other to know that.
They weren't promised, or even courting each other. Not as far as Elarinya knew. It was ridiculous really, the story of how King Fingon rescued Maedhros was an often told tale around the fire here, yet most people only saw it as an act of cousinly love.
As if.
No, it was clear those two had a connection and she was shipping them so hard.
(One had to get their fun somehow in a war camp, and those two clearly needed her help.)
Humming soothingly as she passed by the occupied beds, Elarinya felt her gaze drawn to the bowl with fresh water standing next to her most recent patient.
Her fäe flared, and for the first time in years Elarinya Thingoliel was forcibly pulled into a vision.
Men, elves and dwarves. Standing together.
Betrayal.
Two battlefields. Red banners on one, blue on the other.
A dragon.
Fire. Death. Doom.
Gasping for breath, El tried to focus. Distantly aware of the worried exclamations of her fellow healers, she closed her eyes and cast her mind inwards, but all she could see was fire flaring across her closed lids.
She shuddered, and opened her eyes. Determination flared, and Elarinya stepped closer to the bowl of water. Hand extended above the cool water, she carefully opened her mind and looked.
Her sister, pouring her heart and soul into her song as she stood before Mandos.
A hundred voices, thousands, all echoing loudly in her cranium as they urged her to act.
Sing, princess. Sing!
"Princess!" Hanneth, one of the other healers called, the concern audible in her surprisingly low voice. "A vision?"
Elarinya stood there, heart racing. "A warning. I need to speak to someone. Now. I need to get an audience with Lord Maedhros or one of his brothers."
She was completely overwhelmed, mind racing but body shaking with great fear.
A dragon. A dragon was coming.
El turned sharply to her guard, the sensible braid of pale silver hair whipping around her head. "Get me one of the Fëanorions! Or the High King! Anyone. Tell them Melian's daughter has a message for them."
"Princess." The poor guard hesitated, pale and worried.
Elarinya narrowed her eyes, drawing herself up as she barked in her best Thingol impression, "Now, Thalion!"
Her guard's eyes widened and he ran.
It didn't take long for Thalion to return, this time followed by a tired looking Maglor and an unknown ellon who could only be another one of his many brothers. Unlike the twins and Maedhros, this one truly looked like Maglor's brother. He had the same night-dark hair and gray eyes even if his complexion had a healthy flush to it that his elder brother lacked.
"Princess. Mae govannen." He greeted, giving her a courtly bow that the other one echoed with a polite if curt nod. "It's been quite some time."
Elarinya smiled, doing her best not to blush at the reminder of that meeting. "Lord Maglor, Lord…"
"Caranthir."
She nodded. "Lord Caranthir. Thank you both for coming so quickly."
Maglor hummed melodiously, and a nearby soldier relaxed into a peaceful sleep. "Your guard said you had a vision?"
The intensity in his eyes should have worried her, but it only made the tension knotting in her shoulders relax a bit. He knew her mother, and was aware of El's own power. After all, both he and Maedhros had been told of her very first vision in the waters of Ithil.
"Come," She urged after sharing a look with Hanneth, who nodded. Elarinya shot her a thankful smile, and led the way to her father's more private tent. "We'll speak here."
Thingol's tent was opulent, but sensible. Rich fabrics and well made furniture that had been brought from home made the place almost cozy. She led them over to the table, sending up a silent prayer in thanks that her father wasn't here.
"You have inherited your mother's foresight." Caranthir spoke, voice silky smooth and eyes sharp as he watched her.
"Yes."
Maglor clicked his tongue and looked worried. "Take a seat child, and tell us what you saw."
She sank into her chair with a sigh, exhaustion making her shoulders slump unbecomingly. "I'm afraid I have - once again - no good news to share with you, my lord."
"It's of no matter." Maglor waved away. "Tell us what you saw, princess."
Elarinya took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "The Nirnaeth Arnoediad will begin in two days."
The battle of a thousand tears.
"Two?" Caranthir muttered, frowning. She could see them taking in the perturbing name, but also discarding it. Instead they focused on more important things, and she felt the first stirrings of relief.
"Two." She nodded, troubled eyes meeting theirs. "It will be a slaughter. Betrayal and balrogs, fire and death."
Maglor leaned forward, hand bracing on the oak table. "Who will dare to betray us?"
"Ulfang the Black and his sons have been in Morgoth's thrall for some time now. The enemy knows our plans." She shared, nails digging into the soft flesh of her arm. "All of them."
Caranthir cursed, mouth stretching into a ugly grimace. "Curvo is going to be furious. Ai Elbereth, Maedhros is going to be sad. We are going to have to change all our strategies."
Elarinya was honestly surprised that Caranthir wasn't storming out himself. According to her sources around the camp, he'd been the one to make the first contact with the tribe of Easterlings.
They lived on his land.
And now he learned they'd betrayed them, betrayed him. Yet he wasn't raging. Instead El watched his eyes go cold and calculating, and she held back a shiver.
Caranthir Morifinwë was a dangerous one. Very much so.
"Curvo is going to slaughter the Easterlings for this betrayal if we aren't careful." Maglor stated mildly, eyes on the pale princess in front of them. "And I will deal with Nelyo. But that wasn't the whole of your vision, was it?"
"No. It wasn't." She took a deep breath, and shared the rest of her vision. "Glaurung the Golden will appear on the battlefield, as will the balrogs and many other of Morgoth's foul creatures. And all will be targeting Lord Maedros and the High King of the Noldor."
Now it was Maglor who cursed.
"We are ill prepared to face a dragon." Caranthir stated blandly through a clenched jaw. Elarinya sympathized, but this was not the moment for any apprehension, quiet as it was. They had only two days to make up a new plan. They could panic later.
"I know."
Maglor glared, gray eyes flashing. "We need to call our council together. Caranthir, gather the rest of our brothers. I'll collect our cousin if he's not already with Nelyo and get his commanders together as well. And would you ask your lord father to join us, Elarinya?"
If her mind wasn't overspilling with the new images of a fresh vision, Elarinya would have found it cute how the brothers still used those cutesy childhood nicknames for each other. Instead she just nodded, and shot a telling look to Thalion, who stood silently in the corner of the tent, tense but listening closely.
He nodded, "I'll ask your father to join you here."
"Thank you, Thalion." She shot him a quick smile, which widened when he flushed.
Thalion bowed, before narrowing his eyes to the two males in her company. "Fëanorions. I trust you'll protect my princess with your lives while I go to King Thingol?"
She sighed, exasperated. It was like they all forgot she was a capable fighter in her own right.
Maglor's lips twitched, "Your princess will be safe with us."
The sincerity in his words was undeniable and Thalion nodded reluctantly. "Stay here, princess. I'll bring your father to you."
He waited for her agreement before turning to leave the tent in search of her father. Elarinya smiled. She had needed some time to warm up to the guard her father had chosen for her, but she liked him. Thalion reminded her somewhat of the stories her father used to tell her about his brothers, Olwë and Elmo.
Stern but with a dry sense of humor and a great love for dogs.
"Very well." Caranthir stood, and turned to the young princess. "Thank you for your warning, princess. We are in your debt."
"Twice over." Maglor added, and Elarinya flushed.
She stood as well, shaking her head as she went. "No debt necessary, my lords."
They were going to be fighting for them all soon, risking their lives, and she did not want nor need a debt between lingering them.
"I disagree." Maglor rebuked gently as his brother left the tent, off to find their other brothers. "You are here, helping. Despite the fact you haven't even reached your first century yet, you are here. And now you might have saved all of our lives with your timely warning."
She opened her mouth to demure once again, but then the last part of her vision flashed in front of her eyes.
A song.
"Very well, if there must be a debt between us then I shall name one. There is something you could help me with, Maglor the Minstrel." She started, staring him straight into the eyes. And such sad eyes they were. The kinslayer. The burner of the boats. Fëanorion. Yet there was still strength there, still hope. The oath hadn't taken it all away, not yet.
"I need a song."
oOo
The two days until the battle passed by in a blink.
Elarinya had been called to speak in front of the war time council to share her vision, Elu Thingol a glaring presence at her back, daring anyone to doubt his daughter's word. No one had.
After that there had been a flurry of preparations.
Ulfang the Black and his sons were all quietly interrogated, and then quickly executed for treason. Ulfang's brother Uldor, a quiet but kind man with four warrior daughters and an infant son, took over the tribe, renewing his pledge to Meadhros and Fingon as he did so.
The plan to have the two armies split up was scrapped, knowing the slaughter they'd face if they continued on with the same strategy. Maedhros, as the General of the armies and head tactician, took the lead in developing the new strategy, helped by Fingon and Thingol both.
Uldor, the new leader of the Easterlings and Azaghâl, the leader of the Belegost dwarrow, were also helping. Dwarrow-made armor was heat resistant, and he had many great ideas on how to fight a dragon. Curufin and he immediately started an incomprehensible debate, full of technical terms only the two of them fully understood.
It was quickly decided that Azaghâl with a few of his most trusted dwarrow, Caranthir and Curufin would be working on the way to kill the dragon coming for them as the others fleshed out the new tactics for the battle.
Having done all she could, Elarinya returned to healing tents. She worked and worked, preparing for the onslaught of patients to come and treating her existing patients. And when she wasn't doing that, she was working on that desperate plan with Maglor. Working on that fool's hope that the vision had given her.
Then the time had come.
All over the field the silver trumpets were blown, warning them of the approaching army.
Elarinya took a deep breath, and shared a grim look with her fellow healers.
"May the Valar be with us all." Healer Galion murmured under his breath, looking calm and prepared for anything. "Go, my friends. Go, and know I have faith in you all."
They went. Each going to their own assigned area of the healing tents, waiting for the first of the wounded to arrive. They'd prepared the best they could for the rush that was surely coming. With Supplies laying neatly alongst the walls, ready for use.
And arrive they did.
The sound of battle was horrifying.
She watched from a gap between the tent flaps as the armies approached each other. Waiting.
"This is the worst part." Hanneth mumbled from behind her, looking through the gap at the two armies. "The waiting, I mean."
Elarinya looked up to kind brown eyes and nodded. "I know."
Her father's banners were blowing in the wind, drawing her attention. His silver hair shone like mithril under the sun and El bit her lip, worried sick. He had to be okay. He had to.
Then there was movement from within the group of elves. A rustle moved through the body as all at once the shields on the frontline dropped down. The archers who were hidden behind the heavy infantry sprung out, arrows already nocked. As one, they fired.
And hit their target.
The orcs roared with pain and rage as they fell to the waves of elvish arrows, and those that survived the first attack broke away from their lines.
Waves upon waves of the evil creatures ran towards them, running or riding their bloodthirsty warges like corrupted steeds. They hit the first line. Army on army. A full on frontal battle, the forces of darkness against the union of elf, man and dwarf. The sound was unlike anything she'd ever heard before.
Even from the great distance from where the actual battle was happening they could still hear the sounds of steel on steel, the screams of dying horses and men. Yet Elarinya had little time to focus on the more horrifying aspects of warfare.
She took a deep breath and turned away from the battlefield. Away from the silver and green banner of Doriath. El had patients to look after, and they needed all her focus.
No matter how hard it was.
She sang, carefully rationing her fäe as best she could as she took care of the brave people around her.
With every soldier brought in, Elarinya learned more of the battle around them. She learned that her father was still going strong, deftly leading the armies of Doriath. Maedhros and Fingon were fighting together, each on opposite sides of the army, yet slowly but surely fighting their way to each other.
The Silmaril was still glowing brightly on Meadhros' brow, and the sight of the jewel brought hope to every soldier in her care. Because there was hope.
The orcs were being driven back and it looked like they were gaining ground. But Elarinya knew it wouldn't take long before Morgoth would send a new wave of fell monsters. Worse monsters.
It was only a matter of time.
A/N: Please let me know what you thought? I'm really quite nervous about this one.
Glorfindel will be in the next chapter, promise!
Translations:
The Nirnaeth Arnoediad: Battle of the thousand tears
Mae govannen: Well met
Morifinwë: Dark Finwë
Athelas: Kingsfoil