A/N: A few days later than expected since FF stopped working while I was trying to upload the newest chapter. If FF crashes again, this story is also cross-posted on AO3.
Part two out of three of the battle of Nirnaeth Arnoediad. With the same CW as the previous chapter. It's a long one, but I hope you don't mind bigger chapters. I think the battle itself would have been around 20k and that's just too much for me to oversee at once. So, three chapters.
Enjoy!
The sky was burning.
The sky was burning and death was all around her.
Elarinya was working hard, voice rapidly becoming raw as she attempted to keep up with the many injured. It had been hours since the first of the wounded started dripping in, and she was so close to utter exhaustion.
"Here." Healer Galion told her curtly, keeping his eyes fixed upon a particularly injured elleth even as he handed her a honey infused drink. "Rest your voice and your feet for a bit. Hanneth will take over your area."
She shook her head, stubborn. "Master-"
"Apprentice." He snapped back, his serious expression making the words dry up in her throat. "Do as I say."
The elleth on the bed groaned softly, and the stump where her leg used to be twitched violently. Healer Galion went to her. Elarinya followed, aware that if she didn't her scolding would only get worse.
"I know it's hard." Her master in healing squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of silent understanding. "You are strong, my dear, uncommonly so for the scant few years you've seen. But you aren't even fully grown yet. So rest."
She scowled, silently refusing. She was already assigned the shortest shifts out of all of the healers here, due to her young age. She didn't want to rest again while the others still worked. Besides, El needed to be here. She needed to be here and hear the news of the battlefield, of her ada. She needed to be here.
Healer Galion took a deep breath, and continued to lecture his stubborn apprentice. "Use that brain of yours and remember what I taught you. You are no use to us if you are too exhausted to stand on your feet."
Her shoulders drooped, the fight leaving her. "Alright. Just- call for me if you hear anything?"
"Of course, princess." Galion told her, eyes softening. "The moment I have news of our king I'll alert you."
Thalion, who was standing in a corner of his own, smiled at her and mouthed a silent, 'Wise decision.'
Her lips twitched upwards and she felt a little bit of the stress she carried dissipate. Thalion had been on the sharp edge of the Head of Menegroth's Healing Hall's tongue more than once, and had decided to keep a wary distance ever since.
Hanneth, who just came back from her own break smiled softly at the guard, warm brown eyes shining. Those two had found some common ground between them in their concern for the young princess. Well, Elarinya wished them luck in their courtship.
They deserved it.
Elarinya had come to care greatly about the Noldorian elf in the short time she knew her, and she wished her the best in her courtship with El's guard.
"Oh, and Elarinya?" Healer Galion called as he worked on the elleth's leg. "Perhaps it would bring you some peace of mind if you take a look into the water. Melian has taught you to scry, yes?"
The princess flushed all the way to her delicately pointed ears as the three elves chuckled at the look on her face, embarrassed that she somehow forgot she could scry.
"Yes, master." With that Elarinya retreated to her little corner and sat down with a weary little sigh. Sipping her drink, she gathered herself and looked into the gently steaming liquid.
Scrying was one of her mother's skills, and one she'd taught to El as well. Only a rare few could scry using the elements like they did, which was something to be thankful for. Like her mother, water was her preferred medium though any liquid could work.
The tents itself were warded against things like palantíri and scrying, but the battlefield should allow her to take a look.
Staring into her cup, she didn't blink as the water rippled and her reflection disappeared.
Men, Elves and Dwarrow were screaming, some fleeing, others dying. Most were still fighting, their determination and righteousness felt even all the way to the healing tents. It was an utter chaos.
Yet there was order there.
Banners flew proudly in the wind, each carrying the signal of their house. Fierce red and gold with the infamous eight-pointed star for the Fëanorions, elegant silver and blue for the High King of the Noldor. Beautiful forest green and silver for Doriath, though she had a difficult time finding it between the masses of people.
Elarinya frowned down at the honey-infused liquid, and kept searching for her people.
Maedhros was a blur of copper and bright white light as he fought, orcs, wargs and balrogs falling before his blade.
Fingon was fighting hard, gold glinting off his braids and black blood dripping off his sword. The High King of the Noldor a fierce warrior in his own right as he cut through the orcs and wargs. They were fighting their way to each other, Elarinya could feel it.
She tried to guide her scrying towards her father, but the water seemed oddly reluctant to move away from the High King and his cousin.
She snarled under her breath, exhausted and utterly done. The liquid quivered, and finally submitted to her will. It flew over their armies, showing her horrifying images. Elves, men and dwarves lay dying on the ground, trampled over and forgotten.
The sight of their broken bodies and sightless eyes sickened her, but El steeled her mind and continued her search for her father.
Maglor appeared for a moment in the chaos, unhorsed but fighting just as swiftly. She could see the shock of red hair that were Amrod and Amras, amidst a contingent of Fingon's archers. She found the silver-haired Celegorm as well, with spear in hand as he fended off a wolf twice his height.
She glared into the water that thought showing El her least favorite of the Fëanorions was a good idea. Elarinya had not forgotten nor forgiven him for what he tried to do to her sister.
None in Doriath had.
Then there was Caranthir's banner, close together with that of the Easterlings. Fighting side by side, holding the left flank and crushing the orcs between them and the steep sides of Thangorodrim. The mountain was beginning to crumble in places under Curufin's onslaught, the constant sound of rock crashing down the slopes echoing the thunder rolling overhead.
She continued to search for Doriath's colors, aiming her scrying the way Naneth taught her and desperation steadily growing.
The dwarrow and men were all there as well, intermingled with the rest, fighting hard and dirty with their snapped out commands heard all the way to behind the lines.
And her ada…
There he was!
On the back of a fearsome white stallion, Elu Thingol made for an imposing sight.
Elarinya grinned, sagging into her chair in relief. Her father was a beacon of silver and green in the muddy battlefield, fighting like his life depended on it with his trusted lieutenants at his side.
Oropher, Beleg and Saelon kept close to their king, guarding his and each other's backs as they met the Enemy's forces with a flash of their swords and spears.
Elarinya felt her heart skip a beat as she watched her ada fight orc after orc, the fear choking her. She could not lose her father, she could not.
It was her fault he was here, as it was El who'd changed the Music. If he died here then it would be her fault, as if she'd murdered him herself. It wasn't logical, because he'd have died at the hand of the dwarves and his own greed if not for her, but not many fears were.
So he could not die.
She watched as he turned, smoothly cutting off the head of an approaching orc before it could strike a killing blow to Oropher's unprotected flank. Black blood spatter hit his brilliant silver armor, and El smiled a shaky little smile when she noticed his distinct expression of disgust.
Her dad did so dislike getting dirty.
At least the orc blood hadn't gotten in his hair. Her ada got mean when someone messed with his silver locks.
"And?" Hanneth questioned gently as she approached, expression concerned. "How is King Thingol faring?"
"He's alright. Adar appears to be hale and hearty still." El breathed, purple eyes shining. "So is your king, Hanneth. And Lord Maedhros and his brothers."
Hanneth nodded, expression unsurprised. "Good."
They fought through the day, Elarinya rejoining the healers whenever she could. The orcs gained ground and lost it again, and more and more wounded entered the healing tents.
Day passed into night and yet the fighting continued. People came and went, those who were healed enough to return to the battlefield doing so with grim determination visible in every line of their body.
Her father came by once, after almost a full day and night of fighting. Exhausted, he'd pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before rejoining his squadron, lembas and a bowl of stew in the hand. They were all tired, and it didn't look like it would stop soon.
It didn't.
Her father returned to the battlefield, a bit more rested but still weary.
Elarinya was on her second break of the second day, munching on a piece of lembas and looking into the clear water of the bowl she was holding when she spotted something unusual.
An army was fast approaching.
"Galion!" She called, not taking her eyes off the water.
"What? What's happening?" Galion scowled, up to his elbows in the guts of a returned soldier. The Easterling was at death's door, but the cranky healer wasn't giving up on him.
El barely blinked at the gory sight. She'd quickly gotten used to the horrific injuries the soldiers coming into the tent often suffered. An axe in the belly was nothing.
A healer had to have a strong stomach.
Elarinya gasped, spotting the new banners in her scrying waters. "Gondolin has come!"
"Finally. It only took them two centuries." Hanneth sniffed, and the elf she was treating grinned. "Your shoulder looks to be healing well. Keep applying this salve on it and you'll be able to rejoin your squadron in a day."
"My thanks, Healer." The elleth bowed, one fist over her heart. "And thank you, princess of Doriath for giving us soldiers news from the battlefield."
"Of course." Elarinya nodded distractedly, eyes already drawn back to her scrying bowl. "Here they are."
Trumpets sounded and new elves joined the fight, each carrying the heraldry of Gondolin. Joy and relief warred inside her at the sight of the many fresh faced forces after two days of merciless battle. At least ten thousand strong, the armies of King Turgon at last joined his brother's.
"Utúlie'n aurë!" Fingon, High King of the Noldor cried joyfully as he spotted his brother's banners. "Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë! The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!"
And the armies responded as one, chanting, "Auta i lómë! The night is passing!"
The fighting continued.
As the king had cried, the night passed and the sun rose anew in the sky to announce the arrival of the third day. Meanwhile, Elarinya continued tending to the wounded while she waited for the horror she saw in her vision to arrive.
And whenever she allowed herself a break, she looked into the water and watched over her people.
Watched her father.
Tearing her gaze away from her ada was difficult, but it quickly became obvious that her father wasn't a target beyond the usual danger of fighting against the Enemy.
Orcs came for him, yes. Many came indeed. Wargs as well and maybe even a little balrog or two. But the big ones? They all seemed to aim for the two eldest of Finwë's grandsons.
Yet nothing seemed to stop Maedhros and Fingon. Maedhros' spirit burned like white fire, Silmaril shining with the blessed light of Aman. Fingon shone in his own way, fierce determination lightning his every move.
With Turgon's army joining the fight, the tide was turning.
They were winning.
Hope that her father would survive this war bloomed, and Elarinya wished she could know for sure. But her vision hadn't shown much of her father at all. Like the balrogs, her vision seemed to focus mostly on Finwë's grandsons.
And so she kept scrying, occasionally offering bits of what she saw to the others in the tent with her.
There were other fighters as well that drew her attention. From the Men to the elves. From the dwarf lords to the fiercely fighting Easterlings, Elarinya watched over them all.
Then a fierce gold glinted in the corner of her sight and she guided her scrying water towards it.
A commander in King Turgon's army, an ellon with long golden hair, was fighting like it was a dance. He was grinning, and she thought she saw him call something cheeky to the soldiers fighting beside him.
The moment of levity made her smile, the stressed furrow between her brows smoothing out for the first time in hours.
At his back was another elf, hair as dark as his was light, defending and attacking in sync as they fought their way to where Fingon was slowly being overwhelmed.
He was beautiful, that golden-haired elf, and Elarinya wondered who he was. He glowed with the light of the Two Trees, of Laurelin, fierce and strangely joyful for the circumstances. She wondered if he would survive this day, if he and the ellon he was fighting so fiercely with would live to see another sunrise.
Or if she would have to watch them die too.
More balrogs joined the fight as Morgoth sent out the second wave of his armies, fire and lightning flashing ominously. Elarinya narrowed her eyes when she noticed how they all seemed to zero in on the High King of the Noldor.
Then it went from bad to worse when an even bigger Balrog joined the battle, aiming straight for the soon-to-be surrounded High King and his companions.
Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs had joined the battle.
Elarinya cursed under her breath, horrified she hadn't seen this in her vision.
Never had El seen such a horrifying sight. She paled, fear sinking into her bones as she watched the monster approach where Fingon was waiting for him. Waiting, and ready.
Gothmog smiled, a horrifying slash of the mouth. He towered over the orcs milling around him, over the two armies fighting fiercely towards the gates of Angband as he eagerly approached the circle of lesser balrogs.
From her truly advantageous view, she saw the moment that Fingon and Maedhros locked eyes, just before the circle of balrogs closed around the king.
"No." Came the silent scream, Maedhros' mouth moving but no sound coming out. It was too late and he was too far away. They both knew it. "Finno!"
She couldn't bear seeing the pain in their eyes, the silent goodbye. It was heart wrenching.
Maedhros was fighting like a madman now, cutting through the rows upon rows of orcs as he tried to get to Fingon.
Soon the king was fully surrounded, though thankfully he wasn't alone in that deadly circle. The golden-haired ellon from before had joined him, and with him was his dark-haired friend. Outside the circle of foul creatures their allies stood, fighting so they could help their king.
"Your Majesty." The dark-haired elf in silver armor nodded politely, carefully inching closer so both he and his golden friend could cover Fingon's back. "Quite the pickle we've found ourselves in."
Fingon smiled grimly over his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the balrogs. "Ecthelion. Glorfindel, it's been a while."
She saw the golden-haired elf, Glorfindel, grin. "Indeed it has, Your Grace. But what a time for us to meet again!"
"Indeed." Ecthelion replied calmly, disarming and disemboweling the orc coming at his friend's back. "If I may say so, my lord, this is not the time to stand alone. Our King has been quite worried about you."
Fingon sniffed haughtily, looking startlingly like Maedhros for a moment. "Perhaps he shouldn't have moved away to his secret city then. Watch out!"
A warg jumped forward, and almost caught Glorfindel's arm between its maws. In an instinctive response to the shouted out warning, Glorfindel kicked and slashed, mortally wounding the cursed wolf.
It yelped, the sound so utterly canine that Elarinya winced. She loved dogs.
But wargs were not dogs.
From the corner of her eyes Elarinya noticed one of the Eldain climbing into a tree, a bow slung over his shoulder. He crouched down between the leaves, and aimed.
Arrows rapidly shot from where the Man was hidden between the foliage of the trees, each one hitting its mark with an unerring accuracy, thinning out the circle of orcs the best he could. He tried to hit the balrogs as well, but quickly realized his wooden arrows could do little harm to the fallen Maiar.
Rain began to fall, the dirt beneath their feet quickly turning to mud. A balrog screeched, and Elarinya saw a flash of bright gold reflecting off the lightning as the warrior under Gondolin's banner striked at the balrog, dodging a flaming whip as it slammed down into the earth and striking true into its flank.
The balrog screamed as the blade cut through his side and died, fire and lightning flaring as he did so. Glorfindel grinned savagely, wiping away a sweaty piece of hair as he turned to face the next balrog.
And Gothmog watched it all.
He watched with a bemused air as the lesser beings were slain by the trio of elves, watching as his prey struggled and triumphed.
Then he stepped in.
He waved his monstrous blackened arms and a wave of fire appeared, hitting the soldiers trying to break through the circle of balrogs and orcs.
"Reform the line!" King Fingon roared, slashing his sword and beheading a nearby orc. "And hold it!"
Her heart raced, because she knew this could be the end of it all. Fingon the Valiant was stuck, almost completely alone against the Lord of the Balrogs and the orcs that surrounded the three elves.
"My king, might I suggest you focus on the balrog?" Ecthelion called, silver armor rapidly turning black and muddy as they fought. "We'll help as much as we can while we guard your back."
An orc captain grinned at him, showing off his rotting teeth.
Fingon nodded with grateful understanding, and focused his full attention on Gothmog.
They fought bravely. Back to back the three stood against the Lord of the Balrogs, the dreadful Gothmog. Fingon slashed with his sword the same moment Gothmog swung his black ax. Ecthelion dropped to the ground, barely avoiding being beheaded.
The orc captain laughed, and took advantage of his moment of distraction to attempt to disembowel the elf. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the brave elf stepped into the swipe of the orc, and took a spiked hammer to the ribs.
A strange kind of silence fell.
The golden-haired elf roared as his friend fell. The sound of that grief-filled roar rattled her, and Elarinya shivered where she sat. But she couldn't, couldn't help yet.
But she couldn't just let brave Ecthelion die here either.
Gathering a tiny teaspoon of her fäe, El hummed a little tune under her breath and pulled on the Music surrounding her, surrounding them.
The movement of the enemy slowed. Just for a few seconds, but that was all that was necessary for King Turgon and his people to fight their way inside the circle and join his brother.
Glorfindel took advantage of the enemy's sudden slowness and parried the killing blow heading for his friend's head.
He parried and in a breathtakingly skilled move, destroyed the hammer that'd harmed his friend. He smiled viciously, white teeth flashing and killed the orc captain in one swift move. "For Ecthelion."
Gothmog roared angrily, perhaps sensing that his time had come. Lightning shot out in response to his anger and narrowly missed the two kings. Instead it hit another unfortunate soldier, who froze for a moment before sinking down to the ground.
Dead.
"For Ecthelion." Fingon and Turgon echoed solemnly. They got in position, and Fingon called out to his forces, "Utúlie'n aurë! For Arda!"
Together, the two brothers attacked Gothmog. Turgon swiped low, catching the fallen Maiar in the stomach. Fingon went high, jumping up into the air and cutting off the arm that held the enormous black ax.
It fell to the ground with a thud.
The foul creatures around them froze as they looked at the fallen appendage with dumb confusion. Rage flared in the monstrous eyes of the Lord of the Balrogs, and Glorfindel tackled the two kings to the side.
Just in time.
Because the balrog, desperate and full of rage, decided he would take one last stand. Ferocious fire flared, and the orcs and wargs standing around them were promptly incinerated as the Lord of the Balrogs turned tail and ran.
"Fingon!" Came the desperate yell from multiple sources as the wave boiling heat and fire approached.
Breath stuck in her throat as she watched the fire reach the elves on the ground. The golden-haired ellon threw himself over the dazed kings, shielding them with his body.
But it wasn't necessary.
Elarinya hummed again, more forcefully this time as she called upon the storm that slumbered in her blood. The seas answered, and a mighty wave of clear water crashed over the fire heading for the three on the ground.
The wave of water sizzled and boiled before falling into the already muddy ground, but the fire had been extinguished.
They were safe.
"Thank you, Lord Ulmo." Elarinya murmured, blowing out a shaky exhale. "Thank you."
A sea breeze blew through the canvas flaps of the tent and she closed her eyes for a second, leaning back in her chair with a smile. Then, turning her attention back to the bowl of water in her lap, Elarinya's gaze returned to the three elves.
The three elves laid there for a moment, stunned and dazed. She leaned closer, concerned that she'd missed something.
And bright blue eyes met hers.
Elarinya froze. It should have been impossible. One might feel it if there was any scrying done on them, and you could easily guard against it, but no one could actually see the person doing the scrying.
Yet here he was, looking straight at her.
Eyes like a summer sky looked straight into her own startled purple gaze, bright blue and inviting. Kind. She blinked, and Glorfindel blinked back.
"Wha-?"
Ecthelion coughed where he lay in the mud, blood dripping out from the corner of his mouth. Glorfindel paled and sprang up, the two singed-looking brothers following as quickly as their battered and bruised bodies allowed.
She saw the fallen elf mouth something to his friend, hand gripping his before Ecthelion's eyes closed and his body grew lax on the ground.
Elarinya's heart stopped in her chest then, certain that he was dead.
"Help! Tandriel, Aegon, find a stretcher and help me get him out of here." The golden-haired ellon yelled towards a soldier wearing the same livery on their shoulder as he did. A golden flower. "Get him behind the lines and to the healing tents. Quickly now!"
Back guarded by the kings and friend he'd saved, the wounded elf was carried off the battlefield. Elarinya watched for a moment more, directing the scrying water to cover more of the field.
This was not a relaxing break, she grumbled mentally as she leaned her head against the wooden tent pole. Disconnecting from scrying always gave her a headache. Not at all.
But it was worth it.
She could keep an eye on her father and everyone else. Help out where she could. That bit of peace of mind was worth a little pain.
Downing the last of her tea, El wanted nothing more than her bed. Alas, her break was over and she should rejoin the rest of the healers once more.
Quietly sharing the news of what she'd seen, Elarinya went back to work.
For hours she worked, completely focused on her patients. She cleaned and bound their wounds, set bones and sang the fretful into a peaceful sleep. She found the wounded elf she'd seen taken down, Ecthelion, laying on a nearby bed.
Elarinya watched him for a moment, surprised to find him in her tent.
"Two broken ribs and some nast puncture wounds." Galion told her briskly, seeing where she was looking. "It caused some internal bleeding, but that was easy enough to fix."
El hummed, lips stretching into a small smile. "I thought he was dead."
"You saw him fall?" Her master asked, aware of how she'd been scrying whenever she could. He didn't approve of how much she watched the battle, not liking the amount of violence she surely saw there. But he was also very aware of how stubborn his apprentice was, and how unlikely it was that she would stop even if he asked it of her.
"Yes." She said, remembering the raw sound the golden-haired ellon had let out when he saw his friend fall. "I witnessed it all."
"Go take a nap, princess." Healer Galion ordered, eyes taking in her pale form. "And don't attempt to scry again until you've rested for at least four hours."
She nodded, but murmured, "Just let me check up on him first. Then I shall rest."
Her master sighed, but waved her away. Elarinya grinned tiredly, and approached the bed, quickly checking his breathing and bandages. His fäe was less at peace though, mind most likely still on the battlefields. But he'd be alright, she concluded quickly. Good.
"I'll watch over your blue-eyed friend while you heal." El told him softly, humming a joyful little tune. "Promise."
The furrow between his brows disappeared and she felt his fäe sink in a state of deep sleep many of the injured elves went into as they healed.
Calling out a quiet goodbye to Hanneth and Galion, Elarinya hurried off to her father's tent. Her bed was calling for her, and she wasn't about to deny its call. Thalion followed behind her, hand on the pommel of his sword and eyes wary.
She didn't bother undressing, just laying down in her healers coat with underneath the light-weight armor she preferred.
"Night, Thalion."
Her guard smiled, and murmured, "Have a nice rest, princess."
She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
Only to be woken when the ground shook ominously, and the trees surrounding the tent cried out their warnings for the coming danger. Silver trumpets sounded and as dread sunk in her bones, Elarinya knew.
Morgoth's final play had finally arrived.
Glaurung and his brood had arrived on the battlefield.
El stood up, careful not to draw Thalion's attention as she quietly sneaked her way out of the tent.
It was chaos out there, and she felt herself swallowing thickly. El was breaking her word right now, leaving behind the relative safety of her adar's tent and her personal guard as she was. But she had to. She removed her healer garb, revealing the dark green armor she wore underneath.
(Though unbeknownst to her, Thalion had in fact woken when she had and was now quietly following after his charge. After all, who'd sleep through the arrival of a dragon?)
Then she went and searched for a strong tree who could bear her weight and hide her from enemy sight, out of reach for stray arrows but close enough she could watch the melee.
And the dragon.
Glaurung was enormous. She had expected as much, but Elarinya hadn't thought anything could grow this big. But all things had the potential to grow hideously large in this world. From spiders as big as cars to lizards the size of an airplane, they all existed here.
Though thankfully, this dragon lacked the wings she remembered another one of his kind had.
Unfortunately, the lack of wings didn't slow the beast down in the least.
A great flare of fire burst into the sky, the fearsome dragon conveying his challenge for all to see. Seconds later and the ground rumbled beneath them once again, shaking violently beneath their feet with every step the giant took. Cries rang out from the soldiers, deadened and flat in the heavy bloodsoaked air.
Many fell before the might of the dragon.
Through fire or claw and spiked tail, hundreds fell as Glaurung went straight for the ellon carrying the Silmaril and there was nothing she could do about it. Not yet. She had to get the timing right. The outcome of this battle depended on it.
She had to save her strength.
Her sister could move Mandos with her Song. Well, if Lúthien could make the literal god of death release her and her love from his halls, then Elarinya thought she could very well stop the foul creatures of Morgoth for a little while with hers.
But that wasn't all she was planning.
She asked Maglor for a song for a reason. She needed the best minstrel on Arda to compose something beautiful with her. Something that even the Valar couldn't ignore.
Then at last she saw a tiny figure appear in the distance. Red of hair and cloak, with in his sole hand a silver spear. He was joined by another, a few steps away from him. Each astride of a horse, each carrying a silver-colored spear.
A mithril spear, forged by the greatest hands currently on Arda. Made from the strongest and most precious metal on Arda, and one of the few materials strong enough to pierce a dragon's skin.
They hoped.
"Glaurung!" The Eldar called, voice strong and reaching. "Glaurung the Terrible, Father of Dragons. I, Nelyafinwë Maitimo, eldest son of Nerdanel and Fëanáro, grandson of Finwë, challenge you!"
Maglor straightened his shoulders and echoed his brother's challenge. "Glaurung! I, Kanafinwë Makalaurë, secondborn son of Nerdanel and Fëanáro, grandson of Finwë, challenge you!"
The dragon grinned smugly, baring the rows of vicious teeth the size of Elarinya herself.
"Come to me, little bites." Glaurung crooned at the two riders. "Let me roast you, let me crush you. Let Glaurung rip that pretty little jewel of you and add it to his hoard."
Maedhros urged his horse forward, spear catching the light of the rising sun as he raised it high above his head, and the answering roar from his people fighting behind him swelled and rose through the air.
An echoing cry rose up from Fingon's forces across the plains, and his army surged forwards in answer. Fingon, bent over his horse as he raced over the field towards Maedhros, his people following. The already faint lines behind them broke as the two armies rushed into a full-out melee, Fingon leading from one side and her father from the other.
"Please, Lord Manwë and Lady Varda." She prayed, eyes fixed upon those two tiny figures approaching the dragon. "Please let this work and let their aim be true. Please, to anyone who would listen to this humble prayer, let us all survive this horrid battle."
Glaurung waited patiently, and opened his bloody maw to spew its deadly fire upon the fools who thought they could beat the might of a dragon.
And so, high up in the tree, Elarinya Celebereth, daughter of Melian and Thingol, sister of Lúthien, opened her mouth and Sang.
oOo
Elarinya sang the best she could, pouring her fäe in each and every word of the song she'd composed together with Maglor. She sang her lament, her plea to the Valar. She sang to the elements and to the Music asking for their help.
She sang to Eru, voice powerful and clear as a bell.
And the Valar listened.
As they'd once done for her sister, the Valar answered once again to a plea from a child of Melian's line. Manwë, Varda, Irmo and Ulmo listened and obeyed. Mandos, Vairë, Aulë and Yavanna. Oromë and Nienna, they listened to the powerful song of the young elf, of Elarinya Maiar-born and answered.
The winds of Manwë blew apart the foliage she was hidden by, revealing the singing silver-haired elleth for all to see. They blew away the burst of dragonfire coming for the Free People, and guided the flames towards the forces of darkness.
But it was Vairë who listened the closest to the young female who hadn't originally been part of her great tapestries. The Weaver listened to the desperate plea of the bright starlit soul her husband had blessed and pulled the thread.
Time slowed down.
Maedhros and Maglor didn't notice, they were too busy riding towards the suddenly hesitating, almost frozen, dragon. Arms raised, they each aimed for one of the malicious golden red eyes.
But many others did.
They felt the power and love she poured into her song, and they noticed how the Enemy was slowing down. They saw how nature was helping them in response to the silver-haired elleth plea. How the trees came to life to join the fight, how the ocean came and the wind blew.
Renewed, they took up arms against the foul creatures.
As did an awed Thingol, who breathed out a single name as he heard the voice and felt the power of his beloved child all around him. "Elarinya."
The dragon, a creature of unimaginable power, noticed too. Glaurung noticed his fire being turned against him. He felt the power in the air, and saw the tides turning against him.
He noticed, and switched tactics.
With great strain he closed his great maw, and prepared to use his tail instead. He crouched down, lowering his head so his mighty tail would have the maximum effect.
Because while Elarinya could stop the fire with her Song, she couldn't also stop the spiked tail from hitting its target. Not completely.
With the slow and steady speed of a gentle trot, the battering ram of a tail swept towards the two rapidly approaching brothers.
Maedhros saw it coming and set his jaw, jumping up on the saddle as his poor horse sped towards the biggest predator it had ever seen. He comforted the frightened but loyal beast the best he could, seeing from the corner of his eyes that Káno was doing the same from where he was standing on top of his own horse.
"She won't be able to keep this up for much longer." He called through gritted teeth, feeling the heat of the dragon scorch his skin. They were so close. Close enough to smell the foul scent of darkness that wafted off the Father of Dragons. "On the count of three."
"On the count of three." Káno agreed, shifting his balance and aiming the spear. "Let's make it count, Nelyo."
Maedhros felt the grim determination filling him and sent a quiet prayer to the Valar. They'd abandoned his people, but maybe, just maybe they had some pity left for the plight of the Noldor.
"One," Maedhros began, tightening his hold on the reins. "Two, three!"
They were the eldest sons of Fëanor and Nerdanel. Princes of the Noldor, raised up in the light of the Trees and forged in the darkness of Middle Earth.
They were the rightful inheritors of the Silmarils. Maedhros commanded the largest alliance that has ever been seen in the history of this world. This was the battle of all battles. They were fighting against the Enemy and they would not stop until they won or were defeated utterly. If even one survives, then the fight is not over.
Maedhros reached for the light of Valinor that surged through his veins, and he pulled it with everything that he had to the surface as he lifted the spear up high.
Malevolent golden eyes watched as Maedhros and his brother raced towards him.
The tail swept towards them.
He held his ground.
A/N: Let me know your thoughts?