Lord of Gifts in the Forgotten Realm

by Djoklecjan

After his defeat, as the last act of defiance, Sauron strikes a deal with his former Master, and finds himself in the Forsaken World, which is set for a downfall. Will Annatar change Remnant's future for the better? Or Sauron will make it even worse? Or, perhaps, Mairon will change some of his views?

26. Chapter 18: Heartless

"Worst Betrayals does not come from your sworn enemies."

Celebrimbor approached the balcony holding an orange sky lantern in his hands, as he leant on the railing looked at the starry night sky above the Ost-il-Edhil, watching how hundreds of the sky lampions slowly raise up into the air from the city below, and start traveling west, towards the sunken lands of Belerind, and hopefully, to Aman itself.

Celebrimbor lit the candle in the lantern.

"For a genius Craftsman, you are becoming predictable." Familiar voice drew Celebrimbor out his thoughts. "Each year, the exact same place, at the exact same time."

"There is nothing wrong with being predictable for once in a while friend, especially when it's to remembering past." Celebrimbor said and let the sky lamp go, and it flew away into distance.

"Such customs are unknown in the Undying lands." Annatar leant against the marble railing.

"Aren't great Vala mourning death of the Trees?"

"That's different, for we mourn what can't be restored, no matter how much time and effort we would put into it." Celebrimbor left a sad sigh.

"Is a fallen Kingdom you loved with whole of your heart any worse?" Annatar thought to not accidently insult his host.

"I firmly believe that Kingdoms can be rebuilt as long as there is a will to do so. Also…" Annatar gestured at the city below, it's high towers with crystal glass on their tops, architectural wonders underneath the House of Mirdain, at the two large bridges connecting Eregion's capital with land, the marvelous river gate made of silver. "…Isn't it all matching Gondolin's beauty?"

"You should have seen the Hidden Kingdom before it's fall friend." Celebrimbor said. "Even though the stars were the same, they felt even more beautiful than they are here." Annatar left an annoyed huff.

"That's nostalgia speaking through you, Eregion's magnificence is unmatched." Celebrimbor raised a brow and gave Annatar a questioning stare.

"Don't you feel nostalgic for a more peaceful time from time to time too, old friend?" He snickered at this sentence.

"…Sometimes." Annatar admitted after a while. "But I do not regret coming in here."

Both stared at the night for a minute in complete silence, both not brave enough to say the thing that lingered in their minds, and Celebrimbor was the first one to muster the courage.

"You are leaving us so soon." Elven smith said, and Annatar nodded his head.

"Three hundred years has almost passed, and my work here is nearly done." Annatar confirmed. "You gave this world so many wonders…"

"Will we meet again?" Celebrimbor inquired, and Annatar gave him a hopeful look.

"Certainly, my friend. I have no doubt about that."

Celebrimbor smiled and looked away, for a moment considering to tell Annatar about three more rings he created, which he wanted to give him as gift before his departure, but didn't manage to finish yet.

"I will forever think fondly of your stay." Celebrimbor stated. "How you helped us… Helped me built Eregion into what it is."

Annatar took a deep breath. "I will cherish these memories too." He turned on his heel and wanted to leave for his quarters.

"You were right about something." Annatar looked back at Celebrimbor. "Is the Kingdom truly dead when the nation lives on?"

Annatar gave him a soft smile.

"Our future is bright, friend." Annatar said and walked away while Celebrimbor stared at the city below, then at the white castles afar.

"Indeed..." He said.

"Lord Celebrimbor"

"Our future is…"

"Lord Celebrimbor!"

Celebrimbor opened his eyes, waking up into the nightmare.

The tall towers, once proudly reaching to the sky, now laid broken, their remains spread all over the buildings below, once beautiful city was now filled with crumbled buildings and devastated structures, crushed under the weight of boulders that Mordor's war machines unleashed during the three months of unceasing bombardment. The River gate, once open for the guest traveling down the river Sirannon, now laid shattered and filled with debris, a result of amphibious assault. Two bridges leading to Ost-il-Edhil stood largely intact, Elves were unable to bring them down in time, and as a result, orcs and trolls used them to attack the city time and time again to no avail, now their bodies littered the stone on the bridges whole length.

But there were thousands more awaiting their turn, and he watched how large bands of goblins and orcs use war drums and bells to cause as much noise as possible to deprave the elves of sleep.

"Lord Celebrimbor." King of Eregion turned to his assistant and now adjutant Arandir.

"Is it time already?" He asked, and elf nodded his head.

"Commander Viridion and Captain Narion just arrived, Lord Vectihlion is awaiting too. Do you need a minute?"

"No, we shouldn't waste time, especially when an enemy gives us a courtesy of an uneasy peace." Celebrimbor left the balcony and went with his assistant.

Mordor's heavy catapults and trebuchets bombarded Ost-il-edhil with no stop, only slowing down to either change the tired crew or bring more ammunition, but uruks were more than eager to load heavy stones to launch them at the Elven city, it's devastation bringing them immense delight. Some went so far in their bloodlust that they turned the siege engines at the nearby mountains to apparently bring them down to block the river, but their Taskmasters quickly put them back in line.

Normally, Celebrimbor would be more than happy if Mordor's host ceased the bombardment, if it wasn't for a fact that it was this day of all possible dates.

"Another of Sauron's mockeries." Celebrimbor thought with sour as he went into the council room, were four remaining commanders who chose to stay and defend the city gathered to formulate a strategy for the next day.

"Any signs of Elrond or Celebron?" Celebrimbor heard Viridion's voice as he stepped closer to the room.

"Not yet, but they must be nearby…"

"Stop fooling yourself Narion, none will come to our aid." Vecthilion remarked.

"Don't give up hope yet!"

"It's not about hope." Celebrimbor barged in, and three lords turned to face him. "It's about accepting the truth." He put both of his hands on the last remaining table. "We fight to give Gil-Galad enough time to mobilize, and as long as we keep Mordor's host focused on us, more of our people will reach safety."

The swift-footed Narion, the youngest of the lords lowered his head, his poetic heart longing for a relief force led by Celebron, but his mind knew this sad truth.

The strong Viridion, overall commander of the defense and an older brother of Narion, nodded his head, agreeing with Celebrimbor. His experience, being a bitter escape from the Hidden Kingdom and how none came to their aid removed any hopes of a rescue, and replaced it with determination to make Mordor pay dearly for their victory.

The Horse lord Vectihlion, once the finest rider of the King of Sindar and great jeweler, just left a sigh before he started his report.

"Lookouts said that Sauron's forces were further bolstered during the night, more uruks, goblins, and men." He looked at Celebrimbor. "While our rations are almost depleted, we run out of unburnt wood, our shields are battered an our spears are almost broken." Lord gave Celebrimbor a confident grin. "But our spirits are as a ringing steel, most of our wounded are capable of fighting one more time."

"Then the order of battle shall remain the same." Celebrimbor said. "Viridion, you shall keep vigil over the Ecthalion's bridge, enemy will attack through it once more, and you need to hold."

"It will be done."

"Vecthilion, your company will hold positions beside the river and provide support to mine and Viridion's companies guarding the bridges, but be watchful for another wave of orcs using rafts to get across."

"You think they will try the same trick twice?"

"The enemy is growing impatient, he might commit to the idea, but beware, he may modify it a bit to ensure success." Vectihilon gave a confirming nod while Virdion took his turn in discussing the plan.

"If the defenses are breached, we will fall back deeper into the city, try to slow them as much as we can." Viridion pointed at the strongpoints marked on the map. "If everything goes wrong, we will fall back to the House of Mirdain, and there we shall make our stand. Any questions?"

"One." Narion spoke up and looked to Celebrimbor. "My king, are you going to take vigil over king Turgon's bridge?" Celebrimbor nodded in confirmation. "I should be the one defending it my Lord."

"I need someone who can make difficult choices in a crucial moments, and through the siege you proved yourself to be a worthy leader of our reserves." Celebrimbor said.

"But Lord, you will be on the first line of battle! If they slay you…" But Celebrimbor gave him a soft smile.

"I know the risk, friend. But my presence may bring Sauron out to battle." He said, and upon seeing a vengeful gaze in King of Eregion starry eyes, young elf relented. "Anything else?"

Nothing.

"Then try to take some rest, since the enemy was so kind to share with us their musical taste." Orcs chants echoed across the city as he said that.

"I heard carrions singing better." Vecthilion mocked the orcish chants while Viridion couldn't help but snicker.

Celebrimbor just stared through the gaping maw in the wall at the enemy camp, searching with his eyes for the head of this army. While most of the defenders will try to get some rest, tonight he will seclude himself in his forge on last time, to make sure that his sword is sharpened and his armor ready. And if Sauron dares to try claim his prize personally, he won't hesitate.

That he vowed.

Meanwhile in Mordor's camp, similar scene took place, for orcish warlords gathered in the Main tent, where under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord sitting on his throne, they debated on how they will take this city during tomorrow's general assault.

"My warbeasts will break through the gates, and my warriors will charge through their ranks!" One of the orcs bellowed with eager grin. "Elves are tired, their weapons are almost broken, they won't be able to stop us!"

"We heard the same thing last week Snigrot, and you managed to lose half of your warriors!" Another orc warchief countered with a snarl. "Let me, Zhugor of the Hill Orcs take the lead! Our skin is though, elven arrows won't pierce through it!"

"You hill-swines think they can demand anything!? Only the orcs of Mordor can claim the honor of taking the city!" Another warchief barged in, and chieftains growled, insulted or yelled at one another.

"Focus on the task at hand." Sauron's seneschal commanded, and orcs immediately lowered their heads and voices. It was better than more common orcish gatherings, that usually quickly resulted in drawn knives and spilled blood, but still, unheard of in a Presence of the Dark Lord, who for some reason felt… distant.

Sauron just wanted this siege to end, to move on from Ost-il-Edhil and other cities his armies laid ruin to, to march towards Lindon and end the Elvendom, but Celebrimbor was stubborn in his defiance and defended the city with resolve similar to this of the first age, and unlike Morgoth who could break Elven spirits with Firedrakes and Balrogs, he had to rely on orcs and trolls.

Upgraded orcs and trolls, but orcs and trolls nonetheless.

His mind designed the plan to take the city tomorrow, but he lacked a necessary piece – these orcs, although mighty, lacked in certain aspects that Sauron needed. He needed a callous monster, not a savage beast.

He hid his eyes as orcs jumped to yet another session of insults and mockeries. He partially understand that – one who Sauron will chose will earn the right to the spoils, to the treasures most orcs only heard of in legends spoken between one another in whispers.

Suddenly, someone stepped into the tent, his heavy steps gathering orcs attention, stopping their bickering, and all eyes now laid on a human.

He was wearing ornate, glittered with gold ceremonial armor, showcasing a crest of roaring dragon spreading its wings, his old face scarred after many battles and duels. He had a long, black hair with the strands of silver and black beard, a common sign of authority among the various Easterling tribes and Kingdoms. He eyed the gathering with his dark eyes, giving the orcs a mocking smile.

"My Lord." He handed over his headwear, a golden helmet with carved mumakil tusks, to one of his guards, and bowed his head to Sauron. Although he was an Easterling, who were not known for their height, he was a head taller than two of his guards.

"You are late, tark." Snigrot gnawed his teeth, and Easterling didn't pay him a glance.

"I came for a war council, not to watch some rabid animals growl." Orcs snarled as he walked closer to Sauron's throne, and he dismissively shook his hand to them. "So go and bark somewhere else."

"Man-swine!" One of the orcs reached for his dagger, but before he could draw it, a tip of an Easterling spear touched his forehead, forcing the orc to back off, as Easterlings put themselves between the orcs and their king.

"With all due respect my Lord, this is why the Elves are holding." Easterling took a chair directly under Sauron as the Dark Lord eyed him curiously. "You send animals to fight like warriors, when more professional hand is required."

"And I assume you are such a hand?" Sauron finally spoke up, earning a jealous growls from orcs, who weren't addressed by their Lord directly, while the Easterling bowed his head again in a demonstration of respect.

"One word, my Lord, One blessing and I shall conquer this city before tomorrow's sunset."

Orcs left a mocking laughter hearing that.

"Pint-skin thinks he is special!" Zhugor bellowed, but human didn't pay him any attention, unbothered by the orcish mockeries, but one of Easterlings, one wearing red and black clothes eyed the orc with disgust.

"You beasts should keep your tongues tied in a presence of your betters!" He spoke, his voice mighty and loud, taking orcs aback. "The one you dare open your foul mouths and mock is Khamul, the Flame of the East! Destroyer of one-hundred Golden Cities! The Slayer of Princes, the One who won one-thousand duels, Conqueror of Dwarven holds! The Unifier of Rhun!" Easterling recited with conviction that made the orcs listen in silence, while Khamul's guards bashed their spears against shields. "To him, you are nothing but worms, dirt-blooded spawns!"

Before orcs could retort, launch their barrage of insults or growl in jealousy, Sauron spoke again.

"What do you pledge, Khamul of the Rhunedains?" Sauron asked, and without hesitation Khamul fell on his knees, pulled off the glove from his right, while one of the guards held a white parchment underneath his hand.

The Easterling in black and red drew a curved knife from his belt and approached his king.

"By my blood I swear to you, King of Kings, that this city I shall conquer in your name." With precision, knife slightly slit Khamul's hand, enough to draw blood, and few drops fell on a white parchment.

Sauron reached with his right hand and grabbed Khamul's hand.

"I accept your oath." The air became hotter and the blood hissed, but Khamul didn't flinch a bit. When Sauron retracted his hand, Easterling leader eyed the mark of the Lidless eye. "Give me Ost-il-Edhil, all it's treasures will be yours, except all of the rings, and contents of the House of Mirdain, for these are my by right" Orcs snarled in jealousy and anger, but they wouldn't dare to raise a protest. "Fail, and you will be thrown before my burning gaze for all of the eternity."

Khamul raised back on his feet, a smile dancing on his lips, then smack his fist against his chest.

"Tu voluntad se hava, xšāyat'iya dahyūnām vispazanānām."

---

Elves swiftly went for their positions as the orc camp sprung to life, warhorns tearing the air as the Mordor host assumed its ranks.

"I wish to see the sun one last time." Celebrimbor heard two elves talking, but he didn't look at the sky blocked by the black clouds. After three months of fighting in what seems like an endless twilight, you either get used to it or succumb to despair.

He checked his armor one last time, put more arrows in his quiver, then sheeted his trusted blade, sharpened not only to cut the orcs in their rags to pieces. His breastplate, as well as his greaves and cuisses, remained strong yet light, not obstructing or slowing his movement, the only thing he lacked was…

"My King." Celebrimbor turned around as Narion handed him a helmet. "You forgot it, unless you want the enemy to clearly see you from afar?"

"I will make my presence known for Sauron in other way." Celebrimbor chuckled and as he took the helmet, he noticed the young Elf trembles. "Are you afraid for your brother Narion?"

"No, my Lord. We said our farewells if it's our last day on this land." Narion looked at Celebrimbor, staring directly into his eyes, the Light of the Trees reflected in them. "But… I don't know what lays beyond, or if I will ever meet you Lord, My Brother, my beloved Kalenian…"

"Manwe won't forsake you Narion Fealnier, nor your brother, nor your love."

"What about you my Lord?" Elf asked, and Celebrimbor fell silent for a moment.

He left Aman on his own accord, alongside Feanor and the rest of his family. When Valar's told them they will not be allowed to return once they set sail, he ignored them alongside many others. And now, when death stares him in the eyes, when he feels that this day is going be his last, a question rose in the back of his head: what will happen next?

He put his hand on the elf's shoulder.

"If this is truly the last day, then we shall meet in the Halls of Mandos." He said. "And then, I will personally show the beauty of Aman. But today, I want you to focus on a fight ahead."

Narion took a deep breath.

"I swear to you, Lord, as long as I draw breath, no foe shall breach the doors of the House of Mirdain."

Celebrimbor nodded his head after seeing his companion reassured, pulled his hand back and turned away to join his forces on the Turgon bridge.

"My King." Celebrimbor looked back one more time as Narion raised his spear. "Standing alongside you was my greatest honor." Celebrimbor shared a sad look, reminded how he taught him and his brother Viridion, the Artistry and Metalsmithing.

His gaze shifted to the magnificent guild house, in which he, his disciples and finest artisans of both Elves and the Dwarfs created wonders to mark the beginning of the new age, and when they thought that appearance of Annatar gave them the Valar's blessing…

He quickly pushed thoughts about more simple times aside as he run towards the faraway gate to take command, fearing that orcs will attack before he takes position.

But luckily for him, orcs kept bashing their spears against the ground, swords and axes against shields while the war drums intensified further and further, orcish chants calling to the Elves, telling them that today, they will perish and burn, but nothing but a stern silence replied to them, as the stoic elves assumed positions.

Then, the horns sounded once more, and thousands of orcs left a battle cry.

Through each bridge, a maddened hill trolls was sent forth, their massive arms swinging left and right, pushing bodies of those previously fallen into the water, making way for a new attackers. Elf response was quick, dozens of arrows striking the beasts, but none could pierce it's fat and skin.

On Turgon's bridge, hill orcs used their troll as living shield, running after it cleared the path.

"Aim for its throat!" Celebrimbor ordered as he saw dozens of arrows bouncing off the helmet covering the beast's eyes, then quickly aimed, and at least six arrows found it's mark in the troll's neck, but before it died, the taskmaster pulled the chain in its right ear and the beast fell into the water with a loud splash.

Hill orcs rushed towards the gate, some of them carrying ladders or other equipment to scale the gate.

"Fire at will!" Celebrimbor ordered and elves fired in a rapid succession, downing many orcs, but for each fallen another two took its place.

Suddenly, a wave of arrows hit the running orcs from the side, and they fell screaming into the river, and with a single command Vecthilion switched targets to Ecthalion's bridge, using the rivergate as a supporting position to both Celebrimbor and Viridion.

Celebrimbor unleashed two more arrows, downing two orcs wielding bows, making orcish archers and those carrying ladders his top priority, firing so fast that his quiver was nearly depleted.

"More arrows!" One of the archers called and in no time, elves carrying arrows scaled up the wall and swiftly restocked the boxes and quivers.

Orcs tried to put the ladder, but it was swiftly kicked away by the defenders, and orcs opted to put two more, then three, but so far, Elves of Eregion held strong, which paradoxically, unsettled Celebrimbor even more. What is Sauron planning?

He didn't have to wait for his answer too long.

Giant ballistas fired bolts with thick chains attached, projectiles screamed through the air and struck either ruined buildings above the rivergate, or the gate itself, and soon after a nimble goblins swarmed the chains like ants and started to make their way towards the city, all the while orcs pushed rafts and makeshift boats onto the river.

"Break this chains! Switch targets!" Vecthilion gave orders and his archers started to fire on the climbing goblins, their bodies falling and yelling in pain only for their shouts to be silenced by water, all the while some of the elves run towards the stuck projectiles and tried to remove or break them as fast as possible.

Seeing this development, Narion looked at his adjutant.

"Send Ranion to the Rivergate, Torgvin to the Ecthalion's bridge!"

"Yes Captain!" Two Elven companies broke from their positions and run down the two main streets which were partially clear of rubble.

"What about Lord Celebrimbor?" One of the Elves asked with concern, and Narion looked at king Turgon's bridge.

There fought not only Celebrimbor, but also his finest and most dedicated warriors, hacking and slashing climbing orcs with no mercy, their position stable for now, while Viridion's position became more and more uneasy despite having more soldiers, but most of them were fatigued or wounded many times during the siege and didn't fare that well, now also under the assault of the Mordor's uruks, while Celebrimbor held against the more savage, yet lesser armored hill orcs. Not to mention that lord Vecthilion's position was in danger of being overwhelmed as the enemy fired more chains and pushed more rafts. And the defenders had little reserves left, meaning if he use them too rashly, it could have dramatic consequences.

"Lord Celebrimbor holds for now" Narion replied. "But the enemy didn't unleash his true attack yet, we must be ready for when it comes."

"Yes Sir."

Celebrimbor bashed another orc's head with his hammer, it's body tumbling down but the Elf had no time to spare as he dodged a spiked club, his blade cut upward and orc tripped then fell with its torso open.

Undeterred by their losses, more orcs climbed up the ladders, each and every one was greeted by the elven steel and shields decimating their ranks.

Celebrimbor's hammer struck downward, crushing the orcish skull like an egg, then parried a blow of the crude knife, slammed his elbow into orc's chin and sent it flying off the gate, while a repeat sound of the battering ram striking the gate echoed underneath his feet.

With clear effort, Elves defending the rivergate removed one of bolts stuck in the wall, and the chain fell into the river with many goblins their shouts silenced by water, and sight of their brethren dying shocked many of them.

"Keep moving maggots!" Taskmasters whips struck above goblins heads, and they continued their assault while first rafts finally reached the debris blocking the rivergate, orcs using the floating wreckages to then make it to the city, however to reduce their weight they had to leave their armors behind, making them an easy pickings for the archers, unfortunately soon after, the substantial force started to run on the wreckages.

"For King Thingol!" Vecthilion shouted and raised his blade, and then he and few dozen elven swordmasters counterattacked, much to the orcs shock and disbelief, only now realizing that elven bodies are surprisingly light, and while orcs tripped and tried to maintain balance on the treacherous terrain, elves were able to move with grace and little issue.

Viridion meanwhile fought on the first line of the defense, crushing orcs with his warhammer, an inelegant weapon compare to the sword, but with each powerful swing he crushed armor and bones alike, giving his warriors some respite.

Although the Elves held, it came at a cost – some of the elven archers were struck by an arrow or rock, some were impaled by the thrown javelins, orcs managed to stab through the weak points in the plate, but for each dead elf, five orcs had to pay with their lives.

But the Elves were outnumbered twenty to one.

An orc warchief slipped under the guard of the elven warrior and cleaved him with an axe, the second elf tried to stab him with a spear, but the warchief was nimble, dodged the stab and threw his axe, splitting the target's head in two.

"Elf-swine!" He roared, and Celebrimbor looked at the large grey orc as he took his axe out of the dead elf. "Your city is going to fall today and I, Zhugor of the Hill orcs, will claim it in his name!"

Celebrimbor didn't even gave the orc a courtesy of answering his claim, he went straight for the kill. Warriors exchanged quick blows, but Celebrimbor had both strength and the agility to quickly overpower the orc, so soon one of its arms was severed from its torso.

"The Dark Lord will have your head." Orc wheezed on his knees.

"Then he should come and take it himself." Celebrimbor kicked the creature, sending the screaming beast flying of the wall into the river below, and for a moment, attacking hill orcs hesitated seeing their leader dead.

But Celebrimbor didn't pay attention to the wavering orcs, for he searched for the true snake to show up.

"SAURON!" He roared to the air, his shout so powerful that it sent the hill orcs running back, and Mordor's host wavered, fury of the Flame Within briefly reborn in his relative.

"SHOW YOURSELF COWARD!"

---

Sauron observed as the Easterlings gathered in ranks before their king's tent, each warrior holding heavy short spear and large square shield, covering their heads with quite varied headwear – pointy cup helmets, horned ones or metal masks protecting their nose and lower jaw, but each warrior wore an elastic lamellar armor. On their belts Easterlings either had curved swords, axes or maces for anyone brave enough to fight up close.

There were present many Easterling tribes, some wearing chainmail or hardened leather with cheaper bardiches, and even mercenary bowmen of Harad – all standing in formations, showcasing the unifying trait of all men of the East – discipline and martial prowess, a very desirable traits for Sauron both back then, and in the present.

Between the lines of warriors walked men wearing ornate black and red armors, as well as steel helmets, a rarity even among the wealthy men of the East. Unlike their comrades, these soldiers had large round shields and used shorter blades for protection, and had small pointy daggers on their belts. From Sauron's knowledge, these men were the Remembrancers – Easterling caste of Warrior-Poets tasked with carrying the legacies of the people from the East, as well as overwatching their brethren fight to later pass their stories to the history, accurately portraying their deeds in combat. They were also tasked with treating wounded during battle, or to bring them a swift end to their suffering. But only a fool would consider the Remembrancer an helpless man.

As the Remembrancers attached themselves to the chosen units, one wearing a golden half–mask covering one of his eyes, awaited before the king's tent, and soon enough, Khamul emerged, clad in steel.

For the Easterling to possess even a partial steel armor was a sign of wealth and prestige, and Khamul was fully covered by it, it's quality and clear craftsmanship surprised even Sauron, making him suspect that it wasn't done by a human blacksmith, but he couldn't exactly tell whose hands made it. Easterling sacked dwarven holds, so maybe it was dwarvenmade ?

Khamul covered his head with a steel helmet, it's top made in shape of the Dragon crest, and two long horns carved from the mumakil's tusks attached to its sides, protected his chins. On his brown and red belt he carried a long sword forged by Sauron, as a sign of their pact thirty years ago, and a trusted battle-axe on the other side.

He approached the chalice of fire as his warriors watched, his Remembrancer following behind. Warrior-king put his right gauntlet in the chalice, flames licking the steel but not hurting the warrior as he grabbed the burning coal. In one swift movement, he tossed the coal into the air, and the flame raised up, then fell down, black smoke and yellow fire mixing.

"What does it say?" Khamul asked his Remembrancer.

"That the glory of this day shall be remembered by the generations to come." Man replied, and satisfied King turned to his warriors.

"Have you heard that my soldiers? Your grandchildren, greatgrandchildren, whole Kingdoms and tribes will tell stories of your valor! Of the victory we are about to achieve here!"

"Khamul'a zafer!" Soldiers replied, bashing their spears against the shields, and Khamul pointed his sword at Ost-il-Edhil

"Behind those bridges, guarded by witches and the greedy elves, lay more than gold and personal glory!" He roared. "For there lays our immortality!" He grabbed a large square shield in his right hand and raised it up. "Take it, it's yours!"

"Khamul'a zafer! Khamul'a zafer! Khamul'a zafer!" Easterlings chanted while Sauron stared at them.

Few more rocks fell of the marble, Annatar's hand working slowly.

He remembered that at that time, he felt anger, hatred even, over the trick Celebrimbor played on him. At that time, he was more than eager to watch his minions to crack open the city and drag him out.

Now, as Annatar returned to those memories, he didn't feel pride nor satisfaction from destroying Eregion, instead he felt… guilt.

He refocused on the moment…

With the sound of war drums and horns accompanying them, the Rhunedains marched towards the Turgon bridge.

---

Celebrimbor was firing arrows after the running orcs when the war drums started to beat a new tune, and his gaze darted to the other end of the causeway.

Armored men made their way to the bridge, running in formation while drums and horns announced their arrival, the first cohort carrying a large banner with a raging dragon, and this could mean only one thing.

"Arandir!" His elf adjutant pulled out his spear from the orc corpse. "Go to Commander Viridion and tell him that the second attack is going through here."

"Yes Lord!" Elf quickly run of the wall and through the streets, taking the shortest yet risky path – through the now-heavily contested port as battle for the rivergate raged on.

"Shouldn't we sent someone to inform Narion?" One of the elves questioned as Celebrimbor refilled his quiver and he glanced for a moment to the House of Mirdain.

"He has already seen what is going on." Elves raised their bows as the Easterlings approached, but before they could get into range, Celebrimbor heard a voice from the formation, and the Easterlings halted for a moment.

They soon formed a long testudo, and resumed their march, noticeably slower, but with greater protection.

"Find the gaps!" Celebrimbor ordered, but elves, renowned for their precision and sharp eyes couldn't find holes in the formation large enough to fire an arrow through, and even if they did, they could only deal a shallow wound, as veteran warriors of the East held the formation tight and moved as one, their tactic was put to the test as the bodies of the fallen orcs slowed the formation down, and sometimes even opening as they had to pass over the dead, maybe for less than two or three seconds.

More than enough for the Elves to inflict some casualties, but it made little to slow them down, and there were more of them making way across King Turgon's bridge, but the only way to thwart this assault was to hit this formation from a side, and the only one who could help them – elves defending the rivergate – were focused on fending off the amphibious assault.

Meanwhile Vecthilion cut down another orc and briefly looked around to assess the situation, and it was looking more than grim.

His soldiers managed to pull out two more chains into the water, but the enemy launched more, and goblin horde nearly made it to the rivergate, some of them falling nearly on the elves and orcs fighting on the top of the debris, concentrated archer fire being the only thing slowing the beasts down.

Yet at the same time, Celebrimbor's position looked dire as the men got closer, and he had a feeling that once the foe gets to the wall, Celebrimbor will be quickly overwhelmed.

So he didn't hesitate.

"Archers!" He pointed his sword at Turgon's bridge, and without hesitation they changed targets.

A volley of arrows struck the vulnerable Easterlings side, many of them falling to the water or onto the stone, and the whole formation crumbled.

"Fire!" Celebrimbor ordered and Elves started firing rapidly into the shattered formation as Easterlings tried to recover, then he fired three arrows in a rapid succession.

First arrow struck a warrior right in the eye, killing him instantly.

Second arrow struck the bannerman in the heart, and in his last moment he did everything to keep the banner standing.

Third arrow was aimed at the Easterling leader's heart, it hit true, but didn't pierce the steel plate. Man noticeably flinched due to impact, but didn't fall, instead he raised his shield up, and grabbed the falling banner with his left hand.

Celebrimbor wanted to pull another arrow, only to realize that his quiver is empty.

"Arrows!" Archer beside him wanted to grab few arrows he had, but the black-tipped projectile struck him right in the left eye.

Haradrim archers laid down volley after volley while Easterlings started to reform their formation.

"Your King stands with you!" Khamul's Remembrancer pointed at their leader standing at the very front, holding the banner up for everyone to see. "Are you going to leave him alone!?" Eager shouts replied him.

"Lock shields!" Khamul ordered and Easterlings formed up alongside him, then he handed over the pole to another of his companions, grabbed the arrow stuck in his chestplate and pulled it out.

"His skin is like steel! Arrow's blessed by witches won't pierce through it!" He heard the Remebrencer shout, and grinned with pleasure. Another great addition to his legacy.

"March!" He ordered, and Easterlings resumed their walk towards the gate, now under protection from the archers. "Silver and Wine for the first man to scale up the wall!"

Celebrimbor took one of the arrows stuck in his armor, raised up and fired it back, downing one of the archers, but there were too many. As he hunched behind the cover, he looked to the side and his heart stopped.

Goblins managed to reach the rivergate, now jumping off the chain at engaging the elves stationed there, and more orcs made their way across, the swordmasters were nowhere to be found, only wave after wave of orcs. Did they…

"Narion is coming Lord!" One of the archers pointed, Celebrimbor looked down on the street and saw the young elf on the other end of the street, alongside the remaining company, and for a moment hope returned to the Elven king.

Maybe if they manage to rout enemy here, they will be able to strike goblins from the flanks…

Then, he felt something stirring in the air, like something summoned power to itself.

He peeked through the gaps in the fortification, and immediately noticed none other than Sauron, a tall figure clad in black steel, reminiscent of the Arch-enemy, standing beside the massive trebuchet as the mountain troll loaded a large boulder on it. No, it wasn't a boulder, it was a sphere made of lead.

Sauron touched the globe with his right hand, and Celebrimbor caught the glimpse of the golden ring on his finger, and felt immense might brimming from it.

Made for only one purpose.

Sauron stepped away from the war machine and it launched the sphere into the air, it's trajectory…

"Hold!" Khamul ordered, and Easterlings stopped, their eyes following the falling orb.

Narion saw the projectile with wide open eyes. "Quick!" He ordered to his company to pick up a pace.

This shot should be impossible, not with this kind of ammunition, not with that kind of precision, but the Dark Lord knew how to make the impossible happen.

"Jump!" Celebrimbor yelled and tried to run to the side.

Projectile slammed into the gate with earth-shattering power, pulverizing it like a meteor falling onto a mountain. Power of the impact send the archers in all directions, some of them fell into the river while others landed on the rooftops.

Celebrimbor, was sent flying into the nearby building with gaping maw in its roof, and slammed his head against the wall. If not for his helmet, his skull would crack, instead he just lost consciousness.

The sphere of lead tumbled over the street, crushing the road underneath it's weight.

"Spread out!" Narion yelled a warning and his company quickly run into the side streets, allowing the globe to pass until it rammed into the public baths, crushing everything inside and spilling water everywhere.

While this was happening, Elves defending the gate tried to gather, but most were still laying on the ground, dazed by the force of the impact, and those few who weren't as stunned quickly realized the danger and tried to create a shield wall before the dust settles.

But they were too late.

A wave of javelin's struck the elves before they could brace, killing those able to resist immediately, and with a battle-cries, Easterlings run from the cloud of dust, swinging axes and swords.

One of the Elves tried to raise his sword, but Khamul slit his throat with one lethal move, slammed his shield into another elf with such strength that it sent the victim's body tumbling on the road, the third elf warrior tried to strike his foe, but like a wolf the Easterling dodged and countered with brutal precision, ramming his blade through elf's jaw, all the while his warriors overrun their enemy.

Narion swung his spear wide, it's tip cutting his foe's stomach, dodged a thrown javelin, parried an axe and pierced another foe's head, while his company engaged the Easterlings who strayed too far from their formation, but as they eliminated the stragglers, more Easterlings poured through the gap and formed up.

Narion looked for Celebrimbor, but he was nowhere to be found, not on the walls as few remaining archers there were being cut down by the enemy, nor fighting on the frontline, and he reached the terrifying conclusion.

While fighting another two foes he quickly assessed the situation.

Many of the heavily armored Easterlings have already crossed the gate and braced for the incoming elves counterattack, their leader fighting at the very front against remnants of Celebrimbor's guards. Dislodging them back was an impossibility at this point, and if the Rivergate has fallen, then they will be quickly flanked, potentially surrounded.

"Retreat!" He yelled to his company with heavy heart. "Back to the second line!" His Company made an organized retreat deeper into the city, while Easterlings left an eager cheer.

Khamul raised his blade, pointing it at the retreating Elves

"Kill them all! Let none survive!" He gave a simple order, and Easterlings roared.

"Khamul'a zafer!" They roared as they chased after their enemy, hundreds of them running past Khamul as he took a look at the city around him, and he was… little disappointed.

Stories he heard in his youth about the Elves who lived in cities made of marble and gold, in luxury, spending their immortality lavishly. And yet, this city in his mind wasn't as impressive as the Golden Cities he sacked.

He laughed. As usual, storytellers added something to the tale, but it mattered not – Once he returns to Rhun, the story of his greatest accomplishment will overshadow the rest. There is only one more thing to do.

He looked up, at the building at the very top, untouched by Mordor's warmachines. It seems that Elves fought to prevent them from reaching it, which meant it was there where they kept their treasures. Which means their champions, or maybe, even their king shall come out for battle.

And defeating them all will fulfill his destiny.

He grinned like a prowling lion as more of his warriors run into the city.

"Arda will remember this day!"

---

In the large ballroom, underneath a crystal chandelier, guests from all around the Kingdom gathered in celebration of Celebrimbor's birthday, anniversary of Eregion's foundation, as well as a successful negotiations with the dwarfs from of Moria. This all combined lead to the party of an unprecedented magnitude, organized by both interested parties.

Celebrimbor danced with a dwarven princess, their moves fluid and graceful despite the size difference, to a music first sung by Maglor in Valinor, singers managing to catch only a fraction of its beauty, but even a fraction made the air sing as well.

When they finished, Celebrimbor bowed his head to the princess.

"Thank you for your dance Princess Disa."

"I should be the one thanking Lord Celebrimbor." She bowed her head too, her beard stylishly braided with her dress. "It was a pleasure…"

"Honor is all mine, milady." He looked little behind her and smiled. "I see your father is having fun as well."

She looked back and chuckled seeing her father, Durin the Third, arm wrestling against Viridion while a crowd around them cheered for even a slightest move of their hands.

"He never changed." She said with a smile, and when Celebrimbor nodded, he noticed Annatar sitting beside a table, conversing with some Longbeards about jewelry made in Khazad-dum, but Celebrimbor could clearly see that Annatar does not exactly want to be here.

"Excuse me Princess." He said and went to the table.

"…I would be more than honored to work on such fine material like a star-metal." Annatar said, looking at a necklace made of Mithril. "You truly are great craftsman, Dalfur of the Khazad-dum."

"Hearing such words from emissary of the Great Mahal fills my heart with joy!" Dwarf left a hearty laugh, while his apprentices looked at their master with awe. "We should make a toast for that, Aulendil!"

„Even during party you still think about crafts." Celebrimbor sat beside them. "It's a day of celebration, you are allowed to have fun friend."

"I am thankful for your permission, but I am having fun." Annatar handed back the necklace to Dalfur, then took a cup of wine. "A Toast to Lord Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elves!"

"Aye, for the Lord of Eregion!" Dalfur grabbed his mug. "If he was a dwarf, he would be a Longbeard for sure!"

Celebrimbor chuckled and took a cup too. "For Friendship between the two of our races!"

All five drank at the same time, and with that, another song was about to begin.

"Dalfur, my fellow." Annatar leant to the dwarf. "I think that Princess Casrinil looked your way with great interest."

Dwarf frowned. "You are kidding."

"From the way she looked at you I assume she hopes you ask her for a dance."

Dwarf took a deep breath, stood up and tried to somehow become taller, while his students fixed his red beard and mustache.

"Excuse me Lord." He bowed to Celebrimbor and quickly left, his two students after him, while Annatar looked at them with an entertained expression.

"I thought you wouldn't come." Celebrimbor said, and Annatar looked at him with surprise.

"Why should I miss such a magnificent celebration, especially considering it's in your name?"

"I assumed you are against such events, considering our previous conversations." Celebrimbor tried to jest, and Annatar scoffed.

"I always said that we should first work towards the future, and only then we can allow ourselves for moments such like this." He gestured at the gathering, but his stare remained on Celebrimbor. "Because first and foremost, we should focus on stopping the decay of the world."

"Just take a look." Celebrimbor encouraged, and Annatar took a glance at the Elves and Dwarfs preparing to dance to another song, some were raising toasts while the rest watched the standstill between Durin the Third and Viridion the Strong, Vecthilion making wagers with Durin's son, unsurprisingly named Durin the Fourth. "Do you know when was the last time both our races came together to celebrate? And I don't mean individuals."

"A long time ago, that's true." Annatar nodded his head. "And may I ask what is your point?"

"Point is that if we focus too much on the future, we can miss the beauty of the present." Celebrimbor watched as Dalfur and the elven princess, as well as Narion and his wife begun their dance alongside many other pairs. "If we overfixate ourselves on the potential future, life will lose whole of its taste, and it will be worse than its current decay."

"If we don't find a way stop the diminishment of your race, there won't be any more present." Annatar pointed out.

"I'm not talking about abandoning our goal, but to slow down to appreciate a moment." Celebrimbor said, and finally Durin the Third broke the stalemate and won, loud cheer erupting from both dwarfs and elves, and both Dwarven King and Elven Champion shared a drink to commemorate the king's victory, all the while more and more joined the dance in the center. "Because moments like this are proof that we are doing something special."

Annatar stared at it for a long while, contemplating Celebrimbor's words, then smiled.

"In that case, maybe slowing down is not such a bad idea." He said. "After all, it gives us time to work on the details." Celebrimbor left a friendly chuckle.

"You can't change, can you?"

"Perhaps." Annatar raised his goblet. "Happy Birthday, Celebrimbor." Celebrimbor raised his goblet too.

"Thank you, Annatar." Both goblets clanged and the Elf and the Maia shared a drink.

"I think I should now go speak with King Durin." Celebrimbor stood up. "Thank you for coming, friend."

"Wait." Annatar said and stood up too, and Celebrimbor halted. "It's your birthday, and I would be a poor guest if didn't have a gift prepared."

Celebrimbor noticed an enthusiastic spark in Annatar's eyes as he reached for a pocket deep in his clothes.

"And there wouldn't not be a better gift than a future, don't you think?"

"You found a way to stop the decay?" Celebrimbor's eyes widened in shock as Annatar extended his right hand to him.

"I think I did, just take a look."

On Annatar's palm laid a little golden ring with a yellow crystal attached to it. Perfect by any means, but most importantly, Celebrimbor felt something within the trinket – it was some sort of conduit.

"The answer to our problem are the Rings." Annatar said with a smile as Celebrimbor's starry eyes shined with hope.

He suddenly woke up taking a deep breath, and the scared crow jumped away from his face, hissed at him and flew away, while Lord of Eregion slowly got up.

How long was he unconscious? He couldn't tell, feeling something warm dripping down his forehead, his black hair sticky and in a mess. He quickly checked his helmet, a large dent in it signifying the force he struck the wall with.

On the street below he heard many voices, none of them belonging to Elves. He peeked through the gap and yelped as he saw hundreds upon hundreds of Easterling marching into the city, chanting in their native tongue.

"Taham-tan zanam! Taham-tan zanam! Taham-tan zanam!"

„Has the battle ended?" A scary thought passed through his head as he retreated to his hiding spot, searching for his sword, Faeanor's hammer and his bow, Azkâr. "No, they would start pillaging the city if the battle concluded, nor Vecthilion, nor Viridion or Narion would surrender. They are still fighting."

Only problem was that he is behind the enemy lines.

He managed to find his sword and a hammer, but Azkâr…

With broken heart he picked up Azkâr's remains, split in two due to impact, and he gently touched it. This bow was made by his friend in Moria as a sign of everlasting friendship between the Elves and Dwarfs, and now it laid split in two, unrepairable in the midst of battle.

Part of him wanted to curse the Durin folk for not coming to their aid, to curse Elrond and Gil-galad, to vent his rage at something. They betrayed him! They left him to die! They…

"No." He gently put down the broken bow and covered it with stone as a burial. "There is only one traitor here."

And he won't rest until he kills him, or at least try to, but not while being surrounded by the enemy. He had to go back to the House of Mirdain.

With renewed determination Celebrimbor quietly went downstairs, watching his every step and with his sword in his right hand, the hammer in his left, while Easterlings marched just few meters away from him. When he reached the broken backdoor he jumped into the alley, wanting to get away from the main street and reach the second one, going to the Rivergate.

Hopefully, Vecthilion managed to perform a fighting retreat.

"I saw someone!" Celebrimbor suddenly heard and without wasting time he sprinted away.

Overly eager Easterlings wanted to break ranks and chase after the elf but their commander was immediately on them.

"BACK IN LINE!" He yelled at the young warriors. "Let the wretches take care of the stragglers!"

Celebrimbor run a little longer, until he was sure that his enemies haven't start their pursue, just to gain a little bit of distance, then slowed down to a cautious walk.

He searched his surroundings as he walked forward, scaling the broken walls and holes in the ground left by Mordor's warmachines, and sounds of battle were intensifying in his ears.

His nose picked up a stench as he walked through the street and a large swarm of rats run away from something before him.

An Elven body leaning against the wall. Celebrimbor approached it, knelt beside it and noticed that colors didn't leave that warriors face yet.

This body was fresh, a wound from a crude knife underneath the arm being the cause of death, but the armor the warrior wore was badly mauled, probably with blunt weapons.

His ears picked up a new sound behind him, which turned out to be a pouncing goblin, it's knife aiming at the Elven lord's back head.

Faster than a blink of an eye, Celebrimbor sprung on two feet, swung his hammer upward and goblin's jaw cracked with its skull.

Second one jumped from the building's roof, but with clean cut Celebrimbor cut the beast's stomach open, and the third goblin swung it's stone mace against him, Celebrimbor jumped back, avoiding the blow, then lunged forward, thrusting his sword and piercing the goblin's heart.

In less than five seconds, those he attacked him laid dead, while the fourth goblin run away towards the rivergate.

"So that's how the Easterlings cover their flanks." He wanted to quickly run from the area, knowing that goblins will surely return in bigger numbers, but then he heard a faint sound of weapons clashing nearby.

He quickly followed the sounds of a skirmish, and found himself in a medium-sized backyard garden, and in it, a group of elves tried to fend off a warband of goblins, keeping them away for now, but the goblins tightened the nose of the encirclement.

Without fear Celebrimbor roared and charged at goblins, which didn't even had a chance to turn their backs and face him.

He cut through them like farmer cuts through wheat, slashing with his sword or crushing them with his hammer with speed that even Elves could only see a blur of death and destruction, old enough could swear to themselves that it was the Flame Within fighting alongside them once more. And after few seconds, from thirty goblins only three remained, now running in panic and horror.

"Lord Celebrimbor!" Elves came to one knee, their armors full of dents and bruises. "We thought…"

"Where is the rest of your company?" Celebrimbor interrupted, sparing no time for pleasantries.

"We were separated from Lord Vecthilion when goblins crossed the river, and we wanted to retreat through the back alleys, but goblins…" When he said that, they heard angry shouts nearby.

"Move!" A group of six elves run away. "We have to rejoin Vecthilion!"

"Lord, many of our brothers are scattered around here too." One of the soldiers pointed as they navigated through the narrow streets, and Celebrimbor pondered about it for a second.

"If we find someone along the way." He said with anger directed at himself. He wanted to gather as many as he can, but he knew that time currently worked against him. Luckily for, although elves didn't agree with his decision, they understood it's necessity.

"My liege…" Another soldier pulled him out his thoughts as they run. "We heard the gate exploding, was that…" Seeing fear in his eyes, Celebrimbor shook his head.

"The Dark Lord have not entered the battle yet." He said, and he felt great relief overflowing his warriors, while he only felt frustration, and surprise.

He fully expected that Saurn would personally lead the assault to take the city and claim the glory, but so far, he sent his underlings to do his task. There must something behind it, another scheme.

Goblin shouts nearby quickly reminded Celebrimbor of their perilous position.

"We have no time for that." Celebrimbor ceased the discussion. "Quick!"

As they made a shortcut through a broken building, part of Celebrimbor's mind wondered where is Sauron, what is he planning now?

---

Sauron walked through the broken gate of Ost-il-Edhil while Easterlings kept distance from him out of reverence and fear.

The fallen maia looked at the ruined street as he slowly walked forward, at houses with gaping holes or straight up reduced to rabble, yet, even in it's devastated state, he recognized the jewel he helped to create.

There was a workshop of Myrdania, a fine jeweler with beautiful hair and voice, with whom he recited old poems and shared many secrets about crafting and jewel cutting. He remembered her place as always full of colors and passion.

Now it laid crushed by a boulder.

On his left there was once Viridion's bathhouse – a place where citizens of Ost-il-Edhil could relax after a long day of work, share stories or discuss philosophy, art and of course, politics. And Annatar spent some time there with Celebrimbor, Viridion and his brother Narion.

Now it was cracked open, water spilling between the stones, like the earth itself wept.

He felt a crunch underneath his iron boot, he carefully put his leg away, knelt and picked up what appeared to be…

A porcelain elephant? Right, he repaired it for…

He frowned, shook his head and looked again.

Now in his hands he held a doll with long golden hair, made in an image of Galadriel, by a Dollmaker who lived just nearby.

"Why?" He heard a weak voice calling up to him, and looked away from the doll.

Leaning against the wall was bleeding… Yowwick? No, wrong memory, his mind is playing tricks… yet in his gaze there was no hatred nor contempt just… a question.

"We welcomed you like you were one of us." Nathan's visage said, his voice sad and in disbelief. "Why are you doing this?"

One of the Easterling Remembrancers knelt beside the bleeding man, obstructing the view, drew a pointy dagger and stabbed the wounded right in a heart, ending his suffering, then took a piece of a red cloth.

"I hope when you remove this, you will find yourself in a better place." Easterling remembrancer got up and quickly left, but Sauron kept staring at the body for little longer.

It was no longer his underling in Vale, but Celebrimbor's guard, one of the Brotherhood of Mirdain, one of many he taught how to create the rings.

One he considered his student at some point.

Sauron looked towards the House of Mirdain on top of the City. He remembered how at this point he was so full of rage over Celebrimbor's betrayal, that he didn't pay that much attention to the Finest Jewel he ever created and smashed to pieces by Hammer of his own making.

Eregion, the Kingdom of Smiths, devastated by Mordor, never to rise again.

But rage and anger are like fire – once the fuel is extinguished there is nothing left but a flickering coal and grey ash.

He resumed his walk down his memory lane, internally afraid of what, or rather who shall he encounter at the end of this particular path.

---

Celebrimbor's group managed to gather few more of the shattered defenders, risaing their numbers from seven to twenty, all panting out of exhaustion and wounded, only pushing forward by a sheer force of will.

Even Celebrimbor felt exhausted, his bones cried for respite, but he knew that he had to push on.

When they passed through another building, sounds of battle were now mixed with shouts of the falling elves and barks of orcs.

"Quiet." Celebrimbor instructed his warriors as they approached, he peeked from behind the corner.

An Elven company, holding banners of both Vecthilion and Ranion, fought against a swarm of goblins and orcs, who struck their shield wall like a tidal wave, pushing them back towards the far center of the city.

Celebrimbor raised his hand and elves awaited his command.

Orcs pushed against the shield wall with fury, trying to overwhelm the elven defenders with sheer mass, but because of that, they were tightly packed together, those in the middle barely able to lower their arms.

"Charge!" Celebrimbor roared, and his squad struck the orcs side like a thunder, hacking and slashing the beasts with no mercy.

Surprised orcs tried to back away, but those in the back, not aware of Elven counterattack tried to push forward, and this resulted in a total chaos and confusion, which Celebrimbor capitalized on with lethal effect.

He swung his hammer widely, from left to right, from right to left, each strike crushing spawns of Morgoth, as they tried to retaliate, one managed to thrust his dagger at Celebrimbor's stomach, but orcish crude blade cracked against the armor.

He struck again and again, with little to no self-preservation, pushing forward until he his strike hit empty air.

He blinked and looked back. He managed to carve through the entire column of orcs.

Both his soldiers and Ranion's company chased the orcs for a bit until the beasts routed back to the rivergate to regroup for next strike, while those caught in between were quickly annihilated.

"Lord Celebrimbor!" Company fell on one knee at a sight of him.

"You bear the banner of Lord Vecthilion." Celebrimbor looked at the ragged piece of material displaying a Silver horse. "Is he with you?" And as he said that, great sorrow befell the Elves.

Company leader Ranion stepped forth, his long red hair nearly torn from his head, missing a right, looked at Celebrimbor with great sadness.

"My Liege, Lord of the East bank has fallen." He lamented. "He was struck by a spear and fell into the river, fighting to the end to cover our retreat."

Celebrimbor couldn't do anything more but leave a long, heavy sigh.

Vecthilion, one of the oldest of Sindar, his trusted lord and companion, who survived both the fall of Doriath and Gondolin, who faced Balrogs and Dragons in battle, the finest rider from Lindon to Lorien, now gone to the Eternal halls.

"How many more has to fall to sate your hunger for power?" A stray thought crossed his mind.

"May Eru guide his Fea." Celebrimbor said with respect. "But we have no time to mourn, we need to get to the house of Mirdain before the orcs recover!"

"Yes Lord!" Ranion saluted, Elves quickly formed up and run towards the city center with haste, stalked by goblins hiding in between the buildings, some even throwing rocks at them, some foolish or brave enough tried to pounce on them, only to be quickly cut down.

When they were nearly halfway through, they heard an unmistakable sound of battle ahead of them.

"They have reached this part of the city already?" One of the Elves said in shock.

"Sauron must be leading them."

Celebrimbor felt a surge of fear in the Company's ranks, and even his very fiber of being felt dread at a mere perspective of confronting the new Dark Lord, but his fear was quickly burnt away by a venomous flames of hatred.

"Sauron or not, we shall not go down without a fight!" He declared with his mighty voice. "I will deny him this victory until my very last breath!"

Now, Celebrimbor felt how fear of those standing beside him was washed away, replaced by the grim determination found in those doomed to die.

And when they reached the city square just under the House of Mirdain, sight unraveled before their eyes, overwhelming Celebrimbor for a short moment.

Remainder of Narion's reserves fought bitterly against the Easterlings, formation's clashing with one another, while the area around the fountain became a sight of many individual duels between the Men of the East and the Elves. And in the fountain itself, fighting in a shallow water was young Narion, his once beautiful face now bruised and bleeding, he lost a helmet somewhere during the battle, dueling the Easterling king.

"You should rejoice elf!" Khamul blocked the spear with his shield, countered with a quick thrust, but still nimble Narion managed to avoid the stab. "Your death will be forever remembered as one of my many triumphs!"

"You chase glory by spilling blood? That's beyond vile." Narion responded and tried to strike back, but Khamul once again pushed the spear aside, and faking the strike at the Elves torso, he managed to slip his sword underneath the elf's guard, tip of his blade striking just above the right knee, and Narion yelped in pain.

"Those immortal will never understand the struggles of Man." Khamul proclaimed, allowing the Elf to limp back into position. "While you were given immortality, we have to fight for it!"

His gaze briefly darted to the side, where he noticed another Elven company running at them from the direction of the Rivergate. Beasts failed, yet again, to do their job.

"It seems that we have to end our duel prematurely." He raised his hand, pointed at the approaching Elves, and the signal horns roared.

With a battle cry on their lips, two Easterling cohorts armed with double-handed axes and bardiches charged at Ranion's company.

Narion tried to use this moment of distraction to pounce at his opponent, but his wounds and exhausted muscles slowed him down while Khamul was well-rested and healthy so he dodged it with near childish ease.

"At least you want to die like a man, not a swine." Khamul both praised and mocked, then pointed his blade at him. "When you reach the Lands of the Immortal, tell your kin that I, Khamul the Black Dragon, sent you."

'

Celebrimbor was at the very front when Elves and the Easterlings crushed against one another, and he found himself once again swinging his hammer, snapping necks and cracking jaws.

Elves fought like lions, but the Easterlings fought both with great discipline and without fear, stalling Ranion's company and managing to bring down some of the Elves, their chainmail and heavy axes proving to be capable combination against the Elven blades and shields.

Celebrimbor deflected the falling bardiche, countered with a hammer but the Easterling blocked the blow, then went for a stab with bardiche's tip, but missed so Celebrimbor used this opening to slice Easterling's torso, but as his foe fell, another took his place, not giving the Elves an inch.

And between helmets of his enemies he could see Narion and Khamul continue their duel, the former growing weaker with each passing second while the latter forced his tempo, spear and sword clashing quickly and violently. And seeing one of his friends and companion on a backfoot, he tried to push through the Easterling line, but men proved to be both stubborn and resilient.

'

Khamul grinned, seeing strength leaving his opponent, elf's breath rapid while he kept his calm and steady, ignoring bruises and pain, as his body couldn't wait for the duel's bloody conclusion, adrenaline pumping into his muscles like during the time of his youth.

Yet, part of him was surprised about this outcome – Elves were immortal, and if the stories are true, upon death they venture to lands where death have no meaning. If they are capable of living for hundreds of years, then each should be an unstoppable warrior.

And somehow, it felt like it was Khamul who has more battle experience.

He couldn't comprehend that Elves enjoyed hundreds of years of peace, as when the First Dark Lord was defeated and his armies were scattered, they didn't saw a need to hone their martial prowess that much, and instead opted to express themselves through music, art and craft, building their Kingdoms in peace.

Easterlings on the other hand never stopped fighting one another through generations over riches, power or land, building Kingdoms only to tear them apart few decades later by someone more ambitious or stronger. On his part, Khamul spent nearly half a century of rule conquering, pillaging and dueling, while Narion, and other Elves in Eregion for that matter, become somewhat "rusted" and lacked the killer-instinct. If both warriors were in prime, this duel would not be that one-sided.

Spear struck at Khamul's face, he blocked it with his sword, then countered, trying to bash the Elf with his shield, but Narion jumped back, water splashing around his feet. Khamul started to circle around his enemy to then launch another attack, forcing Narion to push his center of gravity towards his wounded leg.

Celebrimbor cut upward, another Easterling fell, he took an axe on his shoulder pauldron, and in turn Lord of Eregion smashed Feanor's hammer against the man's forehead, caving his skull, all the while his company slowly started to push the Easterlings back.

However, from the street behind them goblins run out to attack the elves formation from behind, the Elven rearguard quickly turned around and fought back, but with their forces now effectively split, Ranion's company was unable to maintain the push.

Khamul pushed the spear aside and went for a shield bash, but Narion managed to jump into the air, swung his spear in a wide arc, striking at Khamul's helmet, breaking one of its tusks and cutting the Easterling chin, drawing another drop of blood.

Yet Narion's small victory was short-lived for when he landed, exhausted muscles and wounds became too much for his body to bare, as it have reached its limit weeks ago.

With a painful shout elf's wounded leg broke and he fell on his knee. Before he could recover from shock of pain, Khamul seized the opportunity.

He kicked Narion square in the chest, his metal boot sent the elf on his back with such power that it ripped Narion's breath from his lungs, and with his face now partially submerged, his nostrils and mouth filled with water he couldn't take another one.

As he gurgled, unable to gasp for air, his spear slipped from his fingers while Khamul raised his square shield, then dropped it with might of an executioner's axe and precision of a guillotine.

And thus fell Narion, one of the most promising poets of this Age.

Yet, in the end, he fulfilled his oath.

"THE SLAYER OF CHAMPIONS!" Easterling Remembrancer roared and men of the East cheered in tiumph, and for a moment for Celebrimbor, world ceased to move.

This death was abrupt, brutal, and these people dare to treat it like a theatric play!?

"Khamul! Khamul! Khamul!"

Khamul raised his shield up, and the Easterlings roared even louder, but when he pointed his sword at the House of Mirdain, all shouts silenced.

"King of the Elves!" He roared. "Your champions lay dead, slain by my hand! Your city crumbles all around you! And yet you still hide behind your minions! Face me like a man, Witch! Or…"

An enraged shout from behind interrupted the Easterling king, and when he turned around, he saw the warrior from earlier, whose arrow struck his chest, now plowing his way through the finest of the Easterlings.

He was like a storm of death, each of his strike brought destruction, and his fury reinvigorated the Elves as they pushed once more, decimating both the men of the East and the orcs.

Could it be that the King of Elves fought alongside his warriors this whole time? That this Lion didn't lose its claws like his brethren?

Orcs screamed in terror at the sight of enraged Elven king, deep rooted fear of Feanor, the Flame Within, engraved into their fiber of being made them run away in panic while the Easterlings, who now firsthand witnessed only a fraction of Feanor's rage, started to break ranks and lose heart.

As the battle now raged with newfound intensity Khamul eagerly awaited his foe, assuming combat position while Celebrimbor broke through the Easterling line and charged towards the fountain. This shall be a pinnacle of his legacy!

'

Celebrimbor run forward, his gaze focused on the Easterling king, killing anyone who even thought about standing his way.

He pushed his body even more, tapped to the strength he once had in the First age, he struck like a thunder, sending Easterling bodies flying or tumbling dismembered with each strike of the hammer and his sword, cutting through chainmail and hardened leather like through paper.

Lord of Eregion leapt forward directly at Khamul from a distance impossible to a man, taking his foe by surprise.

Khamul raised his shield to stop the attack, and what followed were two strikes, apart of one another by a second.

First landed the Hammer, which split the shield in two.

Then the sword slashed through a newly opened gap, aimed at Khamul's neck, but Khamul reacted fast enough and redirected the strike with his blade pushing it on his armor-clad torso, Celebrimbor's sword slid off the steel, much to elf's disbelief, but in a fraction of the second he recognized.

Celebrimbor rolled away, jumped on his both feet and assumed a combat position, red water dripping from his face and hair, while Khamul quickly recovered, paying his broken shield a brief glance.

"A king who fights his battles!" Easterling remarked, genuinely impressed as he strapped off the shields remains of his right arm. "Now that's a sight to behold!"

"This armor you wear, Easterling." Celebrimbor gave the man a vicious snarl. "It belonged to Fingon! Where did you get that!? Speak before I slay you!"

Man frowned for a moment, taken aback by Celebrimbor's words, then laughed.

"So the Legends were true after all." He said as he took an axe from his belt. "It was truly given to my Forefathers by a Mighty God for their service."

"Morgoth was once mighty, but he was NEVER a God!" Celebrimbor pounced forward, swords clashed for a moment before they were separated again. "No wonder he chose to defile yet another legacy by rewarding betrayal, Foul Son of Uldor!"

Khamul's smile vanished, replaced by venomous grimace.

"In your greed, you Elves lay claim to both Immortality AND Legacy!?" This time Khamul went for the offense, three thrusts followed by slash, masterfully parried by Celebrimbor, crimson water splashed under their feet as they moved with quickness. "Your kind only takes and takes, leaving us, the true rulers of Arda, to fight for scraps!"

Celebrimbor countered, his sword struck low while Feanor's hammer struck high, Khamul dodged it and parried the sword with an axe, thrusting his black blade at Celebrimbor's neck, but nimble Elf jumped back and reengaged.

"But today, at long last, one of the wrongs will be wiped clean!" Khamul swung his axe, Celebrimbor ducked and it struck the statue in the middle of the fountain, taking its head, Elf countered with an upward strike, but the black sword was once more blocking the blow, then they jumped away. "Today will be marked in history as the day when I, Khamul, the King of Rhun, ushered the Age of Men! My people will sing songs about my victory, my legacy secured for an Eternity!"

They started to circle, directly into each other's eyes and awaiting another's move, all the while battle raged on around them, First and Second Children o Illuvatar spilling each other's blood by the Dark Lord's design.

And in those dark eyes, behind this cocky smile, a façade of courage and honor, Celebrimbor saw the true nature of the man standing before him.

He saw the fascination of the stories from his youth, his aspiration to be like his heroes, twisted into obsession of being more than they ever were.

A drive to improvement, turned to arrogance, constant attempts to prove his superiority for everyone to see.

Behind seemingly courageous smile, a desperate drive to outrun his fears and Doom.

Hidden by the image of strength, underneath the stolen armor, an eroding power of time and foul deeds slowly doing their work.

Their swords clashed once again, an axe bounced off Celebrimbor's ribcage, while Feanor's hammer struck true, and the Easterling backed away, his breath heavy, and Celebrimbor could already see where this path will lead his foe.

"Maybe there will be time when the Quendi* have to leave for the Undying lands, never to return, and the men will rule the world. But it won't be by your hand, nor the Rhunedain."

Two slashes intended to be followed by thrust, but Celebrimbor disrupted his enemy's attack and launched a devastating counter, forcing his own tempo on the man.

"Your atrocities shall be wiped clean from history, your name nothing more than a footnote between the pages of the books after you fall into the embrace of Death."

Khamul tried to swing the fight back in his favor, but Celebrimbor took control of the duel, forcing the Easterling into a desperate defense.

"But before you face oblivion, thrice you will perish. First as a Shadow…"

Sword and axe clanged, with a quick spin Celebrimbor knocked the weapon out of the Easterling grasp.

"…Second as a Beast…"

Feanor's hammer struck the Easterling blade, pushing it aside, giving Celebrimbor an opening, through which he thrusted his sword, aiming at the Easterling's face, breaking the helmet and wounding the Khamul's cheek.

"…Then thrice as a mere memory."

Rhunedain staggered, his gaze venomous. With maddened shout, he lunged himself at Celebrimbor, trying to deny the Elf's words with action.

Khamul's sword fell from the above, only for Celebrimbor to block it, power of the strike forced the elf to go low, nearly on his knees, but King of Eregion slammed Feanor's hammer in the Easterling's side.

With a loud crack, Fingon's armor broke and Khamul tumbled in the water until he was stopped by the fountain's edge. There he tried to pick himself up, but his body refused him, pieces of steel piercing his skin while his lungs demanded air.

For a moment Celebrimbor wanted to jump at the wounded man and finish the job…

"Lord Celebrimbor!" He heard Viridion's voice, and quickly turned to see his friend's company emerging from the direction of Ecthalion's bridge and pushing the Easterlings back, it's Commander leading the charge towards the fountain.

But at the same time, shouts of the approaching orcs intensified.

He paid the Easterling one last glance as the man picked himself up, trying to raise his sword.

"We are not done." He hissed, but Celebrimbor shook his head.

"Your Doom is not mine to claim, for it lays in the foreign land, under different stars." And then King of Eregion left the wounded man there, Easterling's eyes widened in shock.

"My King!" Rhunedains jumped to his aid, grabbed him by his arms and lifted up, all the while Khamul blinked, staring after the leaving King of Elves.

He stole it…

He looked at his soldiers, and behind their worried looks he saw something terrifying.

A shattered legacy.

His blood boiled, his heart screamed.

Too weak to win, too unworthy to be slain.

His Destiny stolen, and from this point it would fall down only further and further.

"KILL THEM!" He roared, not afraid to shatter his vocal cords as he was dragged away from battle. "KILL THEM ALLL!"

---

Celebrimbor quickly joined Viridion as he, with one swipe of his hammer, struck down three men, made some space for his King.

"It's good you are still with us my Lord!" Viridion greeted him. "For a moment I was afraid you decided to make it to the Halls before me!"

"Not when Sauron still draws breath." Celebrimbor struck a pouncing orc with a hammer. "But Coward didn't show to finish us personally!"

Viridion looked at the hordes of orcs, goblins and men flooding the City Square, their numbers overwhelming last defenders of Ost-il-Edhil, but he also noticed that none dares to even try to enter the House of Mirdain. Realizing the opportunity, he turned to Celebrimbor.

"Defensive circle!" He ordered, and the Elves separated him and Celebrimbor from a fight. "My King, take few my guards and retreat into the building!"

"What?! I will die alongside you all…" Viridion grabbed Celebrimbor's shoulder.

"Sauron won't send his minions to the Guildhall in fear of them ransacking it!" He gestured and Celebrimbor looked at both men and orcs avoiding doors to the House of Mirdain. "Maybe the opportunity shall present itself there!"

Celebrimbor looked at the building, then back at his friend.

"Chances of that are slim…"

"We both know that's not what you really think, Lord." Viridion allowed himself a small smile. "We will give you time to prepare."

Celebrimbor's face changed between various emotions – sadness, grief, anger, guilt, until he put his right hand on Viridion's shoulder and finally spoke up.

"Die well, friend." Elven Commander nodded his head.

"We will meet soon enough." He said, and with that, Celebrimbor and few volunteers run towards the House of Mirdain while Viridion turned his head at approaching enemies, who now brought hulking trolls and heavily armored uruks.

He saw his brother's broken body in the fountain, allowed himself a moment to shed a single tear.

Then recomposed himself and raised his voice.

"Brothers, don't be saddened!" He roared to the fighting Elves. "You made your king proud, for you stood by his side to the very end! You didn't flinch while facing our doom! You will be able to face the Great Mandos without shame!"

When he said that, clouds seemed to disperse, and sunlight fell on their faces, and upon seeing the sunlight for the first time in months, as well as sensing the intention behind it, he and the elves left one last battle cry, not fighting to win anymore, determined to make their end costly for the enemy.

And this time, feeling the warm light, tears stream down his bruised, bloodied and dirty cheeks.

At long last, they were redeemed. Allowed to go home.

He pointed his hammer at the Mordor's host. "Come, thralls of Morgoth!" He declared, his voice mighty, echoing through the streets of the ruined city. "We are all doomed to die today!"

The remaining Elves, although fought with courage, were cut down one by one, fighting to the very end.

None survived to tell their tale to Elrond or Gil-Galad. No songs in the Middle-Earth written to honor their fight, but the memory of their defiance found a way.

Travelers who pass nearby the ruins later claimed that they can hear echoes of the clashing steel and battle-cries. Some who ventured deeper into the ruins swore later in the taverns that they not only witnessed the stand, but also participated in it.

And thus, Arda remembered this day.

---

Sauron stood before the Oak doors of the Guildhouse, and with one swing of his mace he shattered them, sending pieces of wood inward.

"CELEBRIMBOR!" He yelled as he stepped forth. "I know you are here!"

When he took a second step, elves sprung their ambush, one jumped with his sword pointed downward while two other attacked with long spears.

Sauron jumped forth faster than elves could blink, and with one move he pulverized two with a single swing of his mace.

Falling elf tried to redirect himself and slash Sauron's throat mid-air, but like a snake Sauron backed away, and struck the elf with his fist, sending the broken body out of the Guildhouse and splattering it outside.

He then deflected two arrows launched his way.

"Look who decided to show up!" Sauron turned and saw Celebrimbor holding a bow.

"You betrayed me, Celebrimbor!" Sauron started to approach, each step heavy leaving a trail of smoke.

"A Deceiver speaks about Loyalty!" Celebrimbor mocked, fired another arrow but Sauron deflected it again. "How proud must have you been, fooling us all!"

"WHERE ARE THE RINGS YOU MADE?!" Sauron demanded.

"Far beyond your reach!"

Annatar's hand shook as he worked on the details, like he wanted himself to stop…

Melanie and Militiades rushed out of the shadows, pouncing at Sauron to then retreat out of his grasp.

"It wasn't meant to be this way, Celebrimbor!" Sauron replied as his hammer nearly crushed Militia, then he deflected another arrow.

"YOU DARE TO SAY THAT AS MY KINGDOM BURNS!? AS MY PEOPLE ARE SLAUGHETRED!?"

Sauron managed to catch Melanie, and set her ablaze, her screams of pain quickly silenced. Militia, in a desperate attempt to avenge her twin launched forth, only for Sauron to simply sidestep, then kick her so hard that it sent her body crashing through the Guildhouse roof.

"All the destruction you wrought, everything you destroyed!" Celebrimbor yelled as he fired another arrow, this time striking Sauron's arm, arrow dinging from it harmlessly. "Is there no end to your bloodlust?!"

"We could have saved Middle Earth together!" Sauron retorted, and a disgusted grimace appeared on Celebrimbor's face.

Annatar's hands trembled, urging him to stop, not wanting to hear these words, to witness what happened the second time...

"If you really think that, then you truly are Morgoth's Finest Creation."

With an baleful shout Sauron pounced forth, transforming into the Direwolf mid-air, and snapped his jaws on…

Penny screamed as the wolf's tooth pierced her metallic body, circuits sparking with electricity.

"No." Sauron froze the memory in that moment, and tried to put his mind back in order. "Stop hiding behind the child's face coward!" He searched his mind's landscape, looking for the one who is responsible for toying with him.

"You seek a coward?" He heard behind himself and he immediately turned around in his terrifying glory.

But Mairon didn't even flinch.

"Then look me deep in the eyes."

Sauron opened his eyes and backed off from the statue, nearly dropping his hammer in a process. That was something he didn't expect.

All this time he thought it was Morgoth somehow toying with him, trying to sneakily erode his confidence and resolve, and it turned out that the one doing it was… he himself?

But when he thought about it more, after destroying Eregion, something inside him did crack. He stopped feeling guilt, sadness or pain, but also, he numbed himself to the world, stopped feeling simple joy and beauty.

All what remained was his vision, and drive to achieve it at all cost. But what if the cost was too high?

"I didn't have a choice." He muttered, afraid to look at his creation.

"There is always another option you can take, which does not involve putting others in the harm's way." Penny's words rung in his ears as he finally looked at the second statue.

It was Celebrimbor in all of his glory, his face staring at him bitterly and in contempt, but behind the angered face, hidden within the pattern was deeply engraved sadness.

"I only wanted to make the world Perfect." He said.

"Would world without Eregion ever be 'Perfect'?" He asked himself, and he already knew the answer.

Eregion's destruction was like Morgoth's destruction of the Lamps, or the Trees. A final nail on his path to defeat.

A dagger that forever carved out his heart. Or at least, that's what is it was supposed to be, for ever since he came to Remnant, he felt like this piece was somehow returned to him.

And Morgoth would not do that. Not even to mock him. Something else was at play here.

But for now, one thing was certain for him – this Eregion won't share the fate of its predecessor.

He then looked at the third and last piece of remaining marble, large enough for another statue. Hasn't he really delve deep enough? For a moment he thought about continuing his work, but he then shook his head in denial.

Huntsmen are already testing the waters, they can come at any point. They can't find his resolve shaken.

However, when he looked at Celebrimbor's statue he noticed that it lacks certain details, and with a heavy sigh he raised his hammer once again…

---

Celebrimbor gasped for air as the orcs wrapped him in chains, Sauron standing on the balcony, his back turned to him. Internally, Lord of Eregion cursed himself for his weakness.

He looked over Sauron with a hateful glare, eyeing the Ring made of Pure Gold on the Deceivers finger, all the while Sauron looked into the distance, at the piles of smoke, and the Easterlings looting the city below.

"Lord…" A tall orc approached him, keeping his head low.

"Speak Gothmog*." Sauron didn't even turn his head.

"The Scouts have returned, they bring news about a large gathering of Elves."

Celebrimbor smiled. Elrond!

"Gil-Galad's army?" Sauron simply asked.

"No Lord." He said with sadistic grin. "Some of the Elves didn't make it into the mountains, and are stranded just before the mountain range." Hearing that, Celebrimbor's smile vanished, his face turned pale while the orc continued. "Easy pickings, bountiful of slaves and elf-flesh!"

"Annatar!" Celebrimbor mustered what remained of his strength, and Sauron twitched hearing that name. "These are women and children, not warriors! There are not a threat to you!"

"They might carry the rings." Sauron snapped back.

"They don't, I swear it on my name." Celebrimbor continued. "If they die, memory of both Eregion and Gondoling will forever be lost. If you ever cared, for even a moment, spare them."

Large part of Celebrimbor knew that his pleading is futile, but he lingered to the small piece of hope that was left inside his fea like a moth to the flickering lamp.

"Tell me the names." Sauron demanded, and Celebrimbor at first wanted to deny it, not wanting to compromise the identity of the Ringbearers, but then he realized something.

"Vilya, Nenya, and Narya." He said, and orcs frowned. "These are the names of the three Rings."

"Tricky elf, these are not…!" Gothmog objected, but Sauron raised his right hand to silence him.

"These are… good names. Take him away." He ordered, and orcs continued dragging Celebrimbor, all the while he stared at Sauron as the Fallen Maia turned to his General.

"Harass the Elves, make their nights restless, search if they carry the Rings, but do not kill them." Annatar commanded, and at first orc looked at his Lord flabbergasted, then lowered his head.

"Your will shall be done, My Lord." Gothmog submitted, and with that last act, Annatar died.

Sauron turned to the distant piles of smoke, to the distant white castles he helped raise and now brought ruin too, at the tall towers turned to rubble and dust, at the raging hordes and armies wiping the land clean.

"My future is…"

He opened his left hand, nine rings laying on his palm.

"…Bright."

---

With the last of the details finished, Sauron backed away.

He always wondered why he phrased his question like this. He could have asked to whom Celebrimbor sent the rings…

And Celebrimbor would not answer, which in turn would prompt Sauron to punish him by ordering the slaughter. But instead, he said it like that to give the Elf a loophole to exploit? To give him a chance?

A one last favor? He wasn't sure any longer, back then he rationalized it differently, but now, nothing was so simple.

He looked at the statues one last time, then turned his back and walked out of the basement. He will return to this task one day, but for now, he had to satisfy himself with an incomplete answer to his question.

For now, he was Annatar. That's what mattered.

'

Language corner:

Quendi – That's how the Elves call themselves in Quenya, meaning "Speakers; those who speak with voices".

The name "Gothmog" is more of a title created by Sauron, given only to the most powerful or cunning of the orcs, to differentiate them from the rest of their brethren. It's one of the greatest honors an orc can earn, for those bearing this name had the authority to command Mordor's legions in the Dark Lord's absence.

'Rough' translation of the Easterling speeches (Languages used: Sasanid, Turkish, ancient Persian mixed up):

"Tu voluntad se hava, xšāyat'iya dahyūnām vispazanānām" – Your will shall be done, King of the Lands of all Races.

Khamul'a zafer! – Glory to Khamul!

Taham-tan zanam! - We fight to the last drop of our blood!

If I made any mistakes with that, feel free to tell me that.

Authors note:

History of this chapter is really funny – First is was meant to be a single scene, but it then grew, until it became a matter of personal pride.

In fact, I planned to add more scenes with "Heartless" characters, such as Adam Taurus, Hazel Reinart facing Ozpin and maybe James Ironwood during the Paladin incident, giving some context to Penny's backstory, but seeing that it would only make this chapter bloated and confusing, I put these three on a bench. At least, for now.

With this chapter I wanted to accomplish three goals – Show the destruction of Eregion (Primarly Ost-il-Edhil), how it influenced Sauron and to introduce the future villain.

Fun fact – In "The Lord of the Rings online" there is a mission when you perform a last stand before the House of Mirdain against Sauron's armies. Neat.

Konsilio: You have to say it.

Really? But people probably know that already.

Konsilio: They might think he is an OC.

*Sigh, right.

So, Khamul the Easterling is not an OC, in fact, he is the only named Nazgul out of the nine, the rest losing their names to time. Which fascinated me greatly when I heard about it for the first time.

Like, how was he able to retain his name? Even the Witch King of Angmar, although stronger than Khamul (side note, Khamul was Witch King's second in Command), was unable to do so. Not to mention that, according to Tolkien, after Sauron retreated to Mordor, Khamul took over the Dol Guldur and coordinated the War in the North against the Dwarfs of the Lonely Moutain, and the Elves of Lothlorien.

Thinking turn into brainstorming, and brainstorming turned into fleshing out the character.

My favorite type of villain, rarely utilized nowadays in my opinion, is the Dark Mirror – The Protagonists can see parts of themselves in the villains, that if they grew up in a different circumstances, made different choices, they could end up like their enemy.

And since RWBY has four protagonists…

Oh, and I tried to base these Easterlings primarily on the ancient Persians and Sassanids with slight additions of Ottoman turks, but Easterling tribes were a very varied bunch.

Edit: Thank you all for 300 follows! That means a lot!

Anyway, to your reviews:

In response to Dhestrya:

Cool!

In response to Marine:

Thank you! I hope this year I will be able to reach some of the climaxes!

Happy New Year!

In response to RedHood001:

"BRUH! I was not expecting the lore bit with Gothmog and Sauron having... a surprisingly wholesome and tragic friendship." The idea for it came when I wrote the Silmarillion dumbed down, and honestly, I am glad it did. Of course, Sauron would not admit it while Gothmog was this kind of Maia who competes with you and often argues but he has your back in dire circumstances.

"He's fulfilling his promise that his old friend will always be remembered and known, even if it's only in name and appearance." And he is not fully realizing it at this point, he is just, doing it because it "fits".

"I love how Gandalf is the one who saw the memorial for what it was. The whole lesson of understanding that even an enemy could have a form of compassion is deep, especially when it's very in line with Nienna's theme." Exactly! Nienna at one point gave Morgoth of all beings a chance. Of course he later spat on that, but still.

"Nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

Not to mention that Tolkien, although he called Sauron "The closest something can get to the True Evil will" (I probably misspelled this quote), he also believed that anyone, if they work for it and truly desire it, can be redeemed. Heck, at one point Sauron came up to Manwe's herald and wanted to atone for his sins, but when he was told that he would face Valar's judgement, and both his pride and fear told him that they most likely will toss him behind the Gates of the Night alongside Morgoth, and the eternity spent alongside his vengeful master? Hell nah (But this is my Headcanon, I can be wrong.)

The investigations Glynda, Peter, and Bartholomew are conducting make sense since Annatar is a complete unknown and they need to gather as much information as they can before he is confronted. I know I'm excited to see Annatar finally meet the Adults of RWBY who are in the Know regarding You-Know-What but I know it takes time and build up to make it even more impactful. – But now, you can say that the stage is set, and the players are about to face one another, or the while other forces lurk in the dark.

Ozpin may not even meet Annatar/Sauron personally - …

"There's also the matter of Jaune and the Shadow currently at play in Beacon, making subtle moves to sabotage the growth and progress of others who are trying to be better. I feel bad for Cardin because he and his team do have potential, but it seems they're going to get influenced to fail before that happens… if it happens at all. Schemes that involve Arda's dark side tend to end badly for the victims involved before it gets better, and sometimes even that isn't a guarantee" Although I know what the Everpresent schemes, It's full scale won't be revealed that soon.

As for Cardin and his team… Maybe they are on a road to self-improvement? Heck, I'm giving Sauron character arc, why I would leave the four to fall into obscurity? Because they were bullies? Or better yet – kill them to cheaply show how serious the situation is?

A lot of possibilities here I don't want to waste.

"There are some good moments here to balance things out a bit like Ruby making progress with Weiss." Thank you! I am doing my best to portray them as protagonists of their story.

I didn't expect to see the comparison between Penny and Gothmog but after witnessing the flashbacks... I get it. These two seem to be the only people who ever got their points across to Sauron despite the latter not completely understanding them, he still respected and cherished them as friends. In case of Gothmog, he only started to realize the balrog's significance after he was gone, so it adds to the layer that Sauron didn't understand what he truly had until it was gone forever.

But little correction – Gothmog, Celebrimbor and Penny were only three people who ever got their point across to him.

Penny, however, seems to be having problems after what she did and I like that because it shows the significance of her Soul. That would affect how she's viewed once Ciel and the Atlesians are made aware that an Android developed a life of its own. Or maybe that's what Atlesians truly want? At least, those on top?

Thank you for your review! Have a nice week!

In response to Ghostcraft9:

„Love that ending" – Me too!

Take care, have a nice week!

In response to Valen Skata:

"Ok, wasn't the entire part of painting pictures just a RWBY version of Sokka's master episode from Avatar show? I watched it long ago so I am not sure." – Glad you caught the reference! Honestly, that scene in avatar clearly show why Sokka was worthy of being Piandao's student.

In my opinion (And in Casim's too), Huntsmen must be both creative and adaptable. If they are too "by the book," they will become predictable in a fight, fall into a routine.

Grimm are also predictable, but they come in numbers so overwhelming that they mitigate that lack of creativity. That's why he gave them few minutes near the waterfall, and nearly unlimited time in a cave – imagine if Huntsmen had to fight in the forest, and a Grimm horde is running full speed at them, they have little time to prepare, so he teaches them to use this time wisely. On the other hand, imagine if a Huntsmen team is stationed in a village, and they know that the Grimm are coming in next two/three days. How will they prepare?

Konsilio: Damn, I wonder if this will be relevant in the future?

Time will tell.

"This whole Sauron Gothmog relation was unexpectedly wellness developed." I mean, I used whole chapters to do so, so I am glad that my efforts paid off!

"After all Lord of the Rings, despite the name of the series, is about the good guys." Some would even call it "The Elven propaganda", but yeah, we never saw perspective of the bad guys, and some, like Dunlendings, had valid reasons to hate the People of the West and ally with Saruman. Not to mention that, while orcs fled from the Black gate when Sauron fell, both Easterlings and Haradrim fought to the bitter end.

"Do you mean the creatures that Gandalf mentioned to Aragorn and the crew? Why would Gothmog be created to defend against them? Are they in any way dangerous for the world?" To explain this, let me draw a comparison.

To the real world

There is a land split in half by a mountain range, one half belongs to China, the other belongs to India. This land is known for a large population of tigers, however, in Chinese part Tigers hide from humans, are afraid of them and avoid their settlements, while in India, they are known for attacking people and killing their livestock. Why is that? They are the same species mind you.

You see, in Chinese part, they actively hunted them, if one of these big cats killed a human, humans took up arms, went into the forest and didn't leave until they got that Sonna of B*tch. Because of that treatment tigers learnt that the best way to safe your life is to hide from humans.

In India on the other hand, people actively fled from Tigers – they left their homes if one appeared, built palisades, hid their livestock. And this made the giant cats bolder.

So yeah, the Nameless beings are not a threat to the world, because they were taught to if they stick their neck too far, they will be ground slammed. But occasionally they grew bold enough to attack.

Remember the Watcher of the Lake? It was one of the Nameless beings!

Konsilio: Most likely. At least, I consider it to be.

And a little fun fact – It didn't want to attack the Fellowship, but it was drown to the Ring. But it wasn't serving Sauron it was drawn to the Negative emotions, the Dark will hidden inside of it.

Konsilio: Drawn to Negative Emotions? When have I heard that one?

"And the white fox. You focus on it too much, for it to be just a normal animal. Something is going on between the fox and Weiss, and it is significant." All I can say is that I like to plant big reveals ahead of time.

You could learn that I have learnt my lesson.

"What do you mean that Ozpin and Salem are not human? You don't want to make them elfes, right?" I am just pointing that it was strangely fitting for them to be Elves, right?

I mean, the First generation of Humanity knowing magic, being basically immortal and beautiful… It just too good you know?

That being said, there is one thing contradicting – Ozma died of illness in the original, and Elves could not get sick.

Konsilio: But who said that Oz died of illness in this story hmmm? After all, that we learnt only from the memories (And this scene didn't happen yet! – DJ), there could be some… embellishments

Writer's dream.

Have a nice week Valen, take care!

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Konsilio: The usual:

In their camp, Easterlings dived the riches of Ost-il-Edhil between themselves, some wrapping dozens of necklaces with pearls around their arms, others carrying the chests of gold and platinum, but most put on the scavenged armors, and traded their spoils with one another.

"Dolls? Really?" One of the Easterling asked his companion as he threw another three blond and black-haired dolls into the pouch.

"It will be a gift for my daughters!" Easterling explained himself.

"You have seven of them!"

"Two for each!"

One of the group tried remove a painting from wooden frame, operating his curved knife in the painting's edges, but his hand slipped and the sharp knife made a large hole in the painting.

"Curses!" He said angrily, while the Easterlings laughed at their companion.

Then, they saw a long shadow casted on the path, and all movement ceased as the Shadow walked towards the center of the camp.

In his Royal tent, Khamul washed his face yet again, gnawing his teeth.

This day was meant to be the pinnacle of his achievements – Taking the Elven king's head or at least dying in the attempt in a legendary duel, solidifying his legacy.

The Elf have stolen both.

He looked at the mirror, staring at his wrinkled reflection, strands of silver more visible than ever before.

Years ago, after this victory he would demand beer, summon his consorts and celebrate this victory to next morning. But now, he was just tired, his body weakened, and soon enough, it will become frail.

That's not how he wanted to be remembered.

He struck the mirror again and again and again, it's shards scattered all around.

And in those shards he saw a broken visage of an unexpected guest.

"My Lord!" He quickly turned and fell on one of his knees. "I didn't expect a visit today."

"Raise up, it's not official meeting." Sauron ordered, and Khamul stood up, ashamed that Lord came to him while he was wearing his night robes. "You did well today."

"Thank you Lord."

"However I couldn't help but notice that you realized something." Khamul tilted his head.

"I don't understand, Lord."

"You started to realize that your time is coming." Sauron said, paying a shattered mirror a brief glance. "That the age is coming up to you, and the day of your Death is upon you, sooner than later."

Khamul clenched his fists. "Yes Lord."

"No matter how strong or wealthy, to die and depart from this world." Sauron continued while Khamul's blood boiled. "Such is a Fate of Men, right?"

"It's a curse." Khamul muttered, then looked Sauron deep into lavalike eyes. "Why you and the Elves may enjoy eternity while we have to suffer our doom?!"

"You wish for immortality?"

"I wanted to create a legacy that will never die Lord." Khamul corrected. "That even when I perish, I will be remembered, for when the one is only truly dead when he is forgotten."

Sauron pondered on the Easterling's words, then extended his closed left hand.

"Tell me, Khamul of the Rhunedain, what would you give me for changing your Fate?" He opened his hand, revealing a beautiful golden ring with a crimson red ruby.

Khamul first stared at it for a while, then looked at the Golden Ring on the Lord's finger.

"My all, except of name." Khamul said, and slowly reached for the ring.

"Then, the rest is your price." Sauron said as the Easterling took the ring and put it on his finger.

And when he did so, he felt power coursing through his veins, his youth returning to him, erosion done by time reversed.

And he cackled with joy, even though he just sealed his Doom.