The Council of Gil-Galad was rife with hatred. The burnt, rusting scent of blood bruised the air and, though the leader of the council and his chieftains were clean, those that had joined them were not.
Gil-Galad had long stopped making sense to the young elves that stood before him, forgetting that some of them were easily three hundred years older. He had stopped trying to convince them that he was correct in his thinking. Now he was undertaking to make them, force them to accept his ruling.
Elrond stood beside his king, Erestor on Elrond's right and Glorfindel sitting beside the Sindarin Elves. Glorfindel was stiff, his hands taut, and a look of pure torture on his face. His eyes were glissaded with the gossamer paddings of old memories and he gazed out the tent's fastening, watching the smoke coming up from the ground on that terrible battlefield.
The Battle of Dagorlad had been won, the dragon that Sauron had charmed had been destroyed, the orcs annihilated. Now all that they had to do was push Sauron out into the open. Yet, battle had erupted betwixt the leaders of the Elves, the ancient pride and superiority of the Noldor against the ancient freedom and blood of the Sindar.
Gil-Galad was fuming, his features becoming distorted in an ugly display of wrath. His eyes, usually gray, were red and ghoulish whilst the veins in his forehead and neck bulged with the influx of bloody anger. His hand traced a pattern upon the haft of Aiglos and the looks that he tossed at the leaders of the Sindarin army were not those of disquiet, even dislike, but pure unadulterated hatred.
Elrond drowned under the oppression of the room, and he felt the terrible headiness that had entered in. He could remember the other time that he had felt it too. He had been very young, before the Second Age, but he could remember what happened when the wrath and madness joined betwixt the different races of Elves. Death, death by kin, death by those who should never be able to take sword against each other. Death and cursing.
" My lord, they are not to be swayed. All they wish is that-"
Gil-Galad interrupted him, " To leave, to flout my majesty, to forget that they made a promise to the Alliance of Men and Elves."
The young General of the Eryn Galen ( Green Wood) looked up from where he had been focusing upon the ground. The side of his face was puffy and rotted away from fire, his eye was a liquid gray color, profuse and weeping as it sought to heal. There was no doubt that he had become blind. His entire side was held in such a way as to cradle and ease the throbbing agony of the butchery of the dragon. His left arm and hand was skeletal as he leant upon the table; the skin had been burnt away leaving half-smoldering muscle and bone. The finest Elfish healers might not make him whole again. He would forever have the scars and memory of the dragon that killed his father.
" We are not Oath-breakers, son of Orodreth." Gil-Galad stiffened as he addressed him familiarly by his father's name instead as a king. " We have kept our oaths!" The General's voice rose in anger, " We have kept our oaths even though your precious Alliance of Men and Elves did not. We entered the battlefield, we fought and claimed it. The Orcs were stricken down by our swords. The dragon fell by my might though it took from us maethyr( soldiers), erain( kings), and hîr( prince). Yet still we kept our oath. We do not deny our oath and we do not forsake our oath. There are simply too few of us left to fulfill it. We came six thousand strong, we return two thousand. Should more die, there will no longer be the realms of Eryn Galen and Lorien."
Gil-Galad leapt around the table and gripped at the ellon. " You lie! You wish to undermine me as your father did, Thranduil Oropheriôn. You wish for us to fall before the Gates of Mordor in vengeance for your kin. They were slain by your father and King Alphion's arrogance of not accepting the commands of one who knew."
Thranduil seized the hands of the raving king and threw him away from him in disgust. No one knew the agony it caused him to even move his arm. Elrond quickly moved to the side of his king as every one of the General's guard drew swords. Glorfindel called, " Varno( guards)!" Immediately, the High King of the Noldor's guards entered the room and, seeing the threat to their king, they surrounded them.
Elrond was aware that he was almost certainly standing upon the brink of another kinslaying. Only this time he wasn't the reason. This time he would have to bring arms against his own kin, against those that had protected him. He still remembered seeing Thranduil bashing Amras's head upon the rock, drowning him ere he could kill the twin sons of Eärendil. He was loyal to his king. Too loyal to give him a beating and try telling him that the Noldor weren't the only elves in this war.
Thranduil held up a hand. Glorfindel stiffened and Elrond closed his eyes, waiting for the nauseating clash of steel upon steel, of the inevitable knowledge that this entire camp would erupt into a massacre. " Á pusta!(Stop!)" He turned to the wrathful king and lowered his hand, letting it ring hollowly upon the table. " We will not fight with you. I have slain my kin two times. I shall not do so a third. But-"
Everyone had relaxed as he made the former statement, but his "but" was fearful, ringing, and warning. " It had been resolved before the battle that the standard of Lorien and Eryn Galen, two kingdoms, my lord, two kingdoms of Elves should stand beside the standards of Eregion, Arnor, and Gondor. Yet this equal honor and right was against your wishes, feeling that it was a disgrace that there should be another standard in defiance to the King of the Noldor."
Suddenly, he was standing in Gil-Galad's face before any had even seen him move. Elrond could smell the faint whiff of dragon smoke on him, the sickly scent of healing and blood as well. Yet besides it was the strength and beauty of the Elves. " You are King of the Noldor, son of Orodreth, not of the line of Fingolfin, first High King of the Noldor. It is only because you are the last acceptable descendent of Finwë that you are King. My father, now my brother, is King of the Sindar and Silvan. My nephew is King of the Lorien elves. We are Sindar, we do not bow the knee to a Noldor. We do not speak their tongue, and we stand as equals!" His tones did not seem to gain in strength or power. He spoke at the same level, his vehemence did not differ. But it was the very pride and dignity of his words that made them a clarion call across the entire field.
Instantly, Gil-Galad heard all the remnant of the Sindar and Silvan elves shouting in praise for their general, and he realized that he would have to release them. That they would not stand to die again, alone, betrayed upon the field.
" Well spoken, descendent of Elmo! I see the strength and beauty of the Unbegotten is not forgotten." An elleth's voice, rumbling and mischievous, with the haunting swirls of the wind in her breath spoke.
The tent became flooded with heat, and the curtains billowed back as flames swept around them, wrapping the enclosure in her scent and voice.
Thranduil moaned and fell to the ground, the heat and flames too much for one who had recently faced a dragon. Elrond stood beside him, easing him up while cushioning his injured side.
Gil-Galad fought to get his breath in the whirlwind of flames that stole the air, blazing higher and higher around them. However, the ellyn did not burn. The tent was still in tact, no embers were flown, and it did not become so hot that it was unbearable. Fearsome and uncomfortable, but not destructive.
They all turned in awe at the one before them. Her hair was shining flames that fell in a myriad of sparks down her back. Her eyes glowed as blue embers, her lips a swollen flame of luscious beauty. Her gown was woven of fire, its pattern gold, ember, scarlet, and blue spun together in the most magnificent tapestry that eye can imagine. On the front of her breast, the sign of Manwë, eagles' wing, emblazoned on blue shone brilliantly and she faced them boldly.
" I am Aevelco( bird of fire). Manwë is the master of my life and my service is devoted to him. It is his desire that the will of the Valar and the judgment of Eru be made known to the Firstborn of the Allfather this day. Are you ready to hear his words?" Her speech made the fires blaze higher and she smiled at each and every one of them, though it could be that her words were doom to the Elves.
Elrond found his king's eyes and saw in them, guilt and grief, the same guilt that had forced him to demand the Sindar to stay. The grief that he should stand guilty was throbbing in them as well. He then turned to the eyes of the Sindar and saw in them, distrust and uncertainty. He was the blend of both of them. " Aevelco, tell us his words. Whether doom or rejoicing."
She gave him a gentle nod of understanding and began. " These are the words which the Valar and Manwë my master have commanded me to say: To the Elves of Eryn Galen and Lorien let it be known that all your dead have been received within the Halls of Mandos. Already some have been freed. Those that have not, will be released at the proper time. Your father bids you well, Thranduil Oropheriôn, and bestows his blessing upon the new king of Eryn Galen, Erynion."
The Sindar exclaimed with joy and one of the soldiers, a youthful ellon with silver hair, emerald eyes, and sharp features not unlike the children of Oropher who was one of Thranduil's guards, seized his lord about the neck and pulled him to him in a great expression of bliss and amazement. Thranduil could hardly comprehend what she was saying. " Truly, híril-nín( my lady), the Sindar are welcomed in the Halls? None have ever returned to us. We did not think it possible for we did not accept the guidance of Oromë."
Aevelco smiled at him. " They accepted his guidance. They stayed for their king who was chosen to rule in the stars until the sun arose and lighted his world. Now!" Her voice changed in tone and the flames turned scarlet as though they had a sudden influx of brush to consume. " Now for the Sons of Finwë. These are the words of Eru Ilúvatar! For your deeds in believing yourself above the Sindar and those who have never seen the Two Trees, this is your punishment. Had you joined together equally in war, standard alongside standard, instead of vile pride and arrogance, this war should have been over and Sauron destroyed for all time. Now, equal to the lives that were lost amongst the Sindar and Silvan so shall it be equal to the days you must now fight before the Teeth of Mordor. And for the death of the two kings upon the Dagorlad( Battle-plain) two kings shall die ere Sauron is vanquished. And even Sauron shall rise again for so he rose in the beginning because of the pride of the Elves. So shall he rise again for the pride of Gil-Galad and the pride of Oropher."
Gil-Galad felt his strength sucked from him, flames caressing his cheeks, terror and remorse burning through him at such a pace that he was sure to come undone. He fell to his knees, knowing only that this destruction was his to bear. He had not ordered his Elves forward when it was time to charge as it had been decided. He had been too peeved that Oropher's horn had sounded first.
The last thing he knew before he lost consciousness was this, " This is the message of Manwë. And I am Manwë's messenger!"
Erynion Oropheriôn groaned as he moved from the tent of the healers. He watched as his guards eyed him warily but did not dare to comment on his weakness. He had not been burnt by the dragon, instead fleeing, he had noticed that his brother had gone back for his father. So he had turned and then been literally run down by the Orcs trying to escape the dragon. Though he took a great deal of them with him, he had come out of it with a concussion, half of his ribs broken, one broken leg, three stab wounds, and a dislocated shoulder. All in all, he was one large bruise.
" Istan, hanar( you know, brother), I should be the one complaining. After all, did not the ravaging claws and flames of a dragon destroy me?" Thranduil's rich voice came beside him, startling him. In that voice was memories of teasing and taunting alongside tall trees in Doriath, marveling at the new forest they would claim together when they came to Middle Earth. Desperate oaths sworn to each other on the battlefield.
However, Erynion was not in the mood for teasing. " Ego! ( Get away)"
Thranduil laughed at his brother, carefully looping his good arm about him and starting to help him walk towards the horses that were awaiting. They were departing. Leaving this battle field that was now sure to go on for at least another decade. " Equal to the lives that were lost amongst Sindar and Silvan," was what Aevelco had said. It was a terrible prophesy, something even his father would have hated being delivered upon the Noldorin.
Suddenly, Erynion became stark still and they both gazed in surprise upon the Elf that stood before them. His hair flowing free, his clothes black with mourning, and his features swollen with shame and disgust, Gil-Galad Ereinion approached them.
Erynion couldn't keep back the feral growl that rose from within him. " Here to command the fallen king, my lord! Gi fuion!( I abhor you)"
Gil-Galad suddenly looked them all in the eyes and then bowed. Not a bow of welcome but a bow, one knee bent upon the ground, his eyes lowered, and a painful sorrow emanating from him.
Erynion could never hold a temper, obviously even in the face of one whose actions had killed his father. Thranduil would smolder and burn for millennia waiting for the chance for vengeance, but Erynion could both forgive and forget. " Arise, king of the Noldor. Your mistakes are already being punished. And if Thranduil and I both are willing," he turned to his brother who nodded, " you were right in warning us against the drake. We should have sounded it out ere rushing all our army into battle. That was our mistake, my lord, trying to fight alone as we always have."
Gil-Galad arose and let the King and General help brush him off. He held Erynion's arm that was not wounded and uttered brokenly, " I mourn for your father and Aran Alphion."
Thranduil couldn't keep the bitter voice from creeping out as he muttered, " Father and brother, you mean?"
Gil-Galad stood as though struck and then looked between the two elves. " Surely not? Alphion was not your brother?"
" Aye, and father to Amroth who will become King of Lorien in his stead." Erynion told him, motioning for his guard to bring his mount hither.
" Then I have slain two of the house of Elmo by my pride." Gil-Galad seemed to shrink into a dwarf at that moment.
Amroth, their nephew arose from behind them. He had been in Thranduil's guard for many years and few knew that he was actually heir to the Throne of Lorien. He looked into Erynion's eyes and then said in a quiet voice, golden like the mallyrn leaves, " Three."
Gil-Galad followed his gaze and then bent his head. " I see. Who died?"
Erynion bent his head, remembered the silver blue eyes of the one whose body he could not even say farewell to, " My son, Lasel( leaf star). The orcs pierced him many times over."
Thranduil shook himself, " My lords, let us depart, not in grief because of the deaths that we have each caused each other, but for this time, let the ancient rift of the Noldor and Sindar be put aside. Let not more pride cause more strength for that abomination. We may hate each other again, one day, but let that not be this day."
And so they parted, not in hate, not in grief, but in the firm assurance that each had cost each other something and that each would no doubt reckon for the other. Yea, it was a strange sort of friendship, but kinslaying had been avoided, and while the Sindar could forgive, they would never forget the dead bodies of their three royals.
But as the Valar spoke, so were the Sindar avenged upon the Alliance of Men and Elves. Two kings fell the day Sauron was destroyed, and the seeds of destruction were planted in the mind of a prince who would fall to Orcen arrows even as the son of Prince of Eryn Galen had fallen. The Valar never forget and the Messenger of Manwë always speaks true.
That was a serious story. And honestly one of my favorite themes of all time. I love the whole idea of what really happened at the Battle of Dagorlad. But per my usual, I will tell you what Tolkien says. It was the Alliance of Elves and Men, meaning the Kingdoms of Eregion, Lorien, Eryn Galen, and Arnor and Gondor, the Men. At the very first battle of the War against Sauron, Oropher and the King of Lorien, we don't know his name, did not await the signal of King Ereinion Gil-Galad and rushed the armies of Mordor alone. They were pretty much decimated. The belief is that Oropher would not accept the command of the Noldor King and chose to fight on his own terms. Pride was definitely the problem here.
While in this story I focused upon the major pride of Gil-Galad, it is also part of an overarching theme of prejudice and distrust that I hope to include in this entire book of short stories. These elves were not friendly. As Elrond mentions in the story, the Noldor had killed his Wood-elf kin to get at his twin and himself. Though the Noldor, specifically the Fëanorians did raise them well, there was still a lot of hate between the two peoples. Every one of the Three Kinslayings happened between the Noldor and the Sindar or kin of the Sindar.
One more author's note and then you can stop yawning if you're even reading this. Gil-Galad and Elendil, the two kings left in the Alliance after the Sindar Elves went home, were killed the very day that Sauron was defeated. Elendil's son Isildur took the One Ring and became a prideful destructive person, though not a tyrant. He was killed by Orcs with arrows at the Gladden Fields, at the Fords of the Anduin. Thus, Aevelco's prophesy, via me, became very true. I just thought it was an interesting touch that at the first battle two kings fell and at the last battle, two kings fell in Tolkien's original stories.
Well, I'm sure you drop-dead bored by now. Please vote, subscribe, or comment even if you hate it, I can really bear it. By the bye, I promise, the next one's gonna be a little lighter.
Live gloriously,
Jetta Lee