Chapter 23: The Face of the Enemy
With a huff, Isildur turned his horse away from the elvish line. "We should be with the men. Battle will not be avoided."
Galadriel met Halbrand's eyes which seemed cold and flat. There was none of the feral glee that had filled his expression before fighting orcs. Galadriel could feel the same icy weight within her own heart. Her hand trembled on the hilt of her sword as she followed Isildur back to their battleline. She had chosen to take up arms against her kin. Even during her youth when she witnessed the Kinslaying, Galadriel had never struck down another elf.
She pushed the thought away forcefully. The cold numbness was painful, but the hot tears that threatened to escape would be worse.
"Draw your swords, my friends. Today we fight to protect our homes. The elves will not yield their mission, nor will we lay down before them. The blood spilt here will determine the future of all our people."
As though from a great distance, Galadriel heard the cheers ring out as the men of the South and of the remnant of Númenor drew blades together. She drew her own, a single thought left to ring forward in her mind—she would die protecting these men who had been condemned due to her own actions.
Halbrand drew his horse alongside hers and reached out to place a hand upon her knee. "Until the end?"
Galadriel nodded once, squeezing her eyes shut against the impending tears. She could not answer, but he did not seem to expect one. The warmth of his hand seemed to soak through her armor as he squeezed lightly, before it disappeared.
They rode forward together, along with their comrades. Before them, the elves were readying themselves for battle, but Isildur had no intention of waiting. Instead, he bade the men ride. As one the lines of the Southlanders and Númenóreans pushed forward over the plain. The grass that had held such vibrance only a few short minutes before now seemed muted beneath sunlight grown dim and unsteady.
Gil-galad had clearly not expected such impetuousness from his adversaries. The elves did not have time to loose more than a sparse volley of arrows before the men had closed in. Galadriel rode next to Halbrand, sword flashing as she refused to allow herself to see the faces of those she fought. Even then, she could not muster the same efficiency with which she had dispatched the orcs. Her strikes aimed to incapacitate, not kill.
An arrow whizzed by her, causing her horse to buck. A sharp cry and thud drew her gaze, and she saw that the arrow had indeed struck its goal, piercing through the armor on Halbrand's left shoulder. Another arrow struck his horse, pulling it to the ground. Galadriel's own reared, nearly unseating her.
The elves nearby were converging on the spot, having seen Halbrand's steed fall. Gritting her teeth, Galadriel swung from her saddle, moving quickly to where her companion had fallen. He was winded, and his face twisted in pain, but he continued to defend himself with his uninjured sword arm.
Quickly putting her back to him, Galadriel parried an incoming blow and left a gash across her opponent's sword arm. He fell back, cursing, but another elf quickly took his place. Everywhere, Galadriel could see the golden sheen of elven battle armor, dull as it appeared under the ever-thickening clouds.
The next face that appeared before her was familiar, yet painfully foreign. Loathing twisted Celeborn's face to the point of unrecognizability. "You spill the blood of the Eldar to protect Sauron? If you are free from his black magic as you claim, then you are changed beyond recognition. You are not my wife."
He leapt toward her, sword flashing in a wicked arc toward her throat.
Galadriel felt a flash of terror—he was trying to kill her.
Halbrand parried the strike, then quickly turned back to his own opponents. "'til the end, Galadriel. Don't give up now."
The words cut through the turbulent emotions like a hot knife, freeing Galadriel's strained breathing. She refocused on Celeborn, already seeing the path of the blade. As she parried strike after strike, looking for a window to incapacitate her husband with the least amount of pain or risk, she was suddenly, painfully, aware of the time they had spent apart.
As youths, when Celeborn and Galadriel had sparred, they were nearly even footed. Some days, Celeborn would have the upper hand. Less often, Galadriel found herself defeating him. That was how they'd spent many long years in the light of the trees before the sun had been born.
A sharp clang, and Galadriel redirected another strike with a small shift of her weight.
For an age of Middle Earth, Galadriel had wandered, desperately honing her skills as she sought a confrontation with her enemy. As she evaded yet another blow, Galadriel was acutely aware of the distance that had grown between them in the intervening millennia. Where they had once been evenly matched, two swords moving in a carefully choreographed dance, Galadriel now felt as if she was toying with him. Only her unwillingness to strike a fatal blow had kept the fight from ending so far.
She spotted an opening and with a single precise movement, Nimlach darted forward, biting through the exposed chainmail just above Celeborn's elbow. He howled in pain as the sword fell from his weakened grip. Scarlet drenched gold as he staggered back, cradling his injured arm. Moving slowly, he scooped up his fallen sword, gaze fixed on Galadriel.
She did not lower her sword, but also did not move forward to attack. "Please retreat, I do not wish to kill you."
Celeborn's eyes flashed in anger, and he glowered at her, but, finally, he turned back and began to retreat north away from the front line.
Galadriel only had a moment to sigh in relief before she was forced to defend herself against yet another attacker. Beside her, Halbrand stiffened suddenly, his head darting up to scan what could be seen of the horizon. She parried another blow from her assailants before looking back at him, brow furrowed. "Halbrand?"
"Do you hear that?"
Galadriel blinked once and focused on the noise of the battlefield. The sound of clashing metal was easy to ignore, the grunts and cries only somewhat more difficult. Further away, a different sort of cry could barely be heard through the clamor. Then, a low horn call rose above the cacophony.
"Was that an Uruk horn?"
Halbrand grunted in confirmation, head turning as he scanned the battlefield.
Galadriel cursed quietly and parried another strike. "I must find Gil-galad or perhaps Elrond. The orcs clearly seek to destroy us while we fight one another. Stay with me."
She pushed forward, wading slowly through the ongoing battle. She could hear Halbrand behind her, guarding her back as they moved. The gold armored bodies grew thicker around them as they moved further into the elven lines. The unseasonable cold and dark of the mid-afternoon only hastened Galadriel's footsteps, now that she was aware of the reason for it.
Her current foe stepped back with a pained grunt, hand clasped tight around his thigh to stop the bleeding. In the space beyond him, Galadriel at last caught sight of Gil-galad. He had dismounted as well and was fighting Ontamo. Her heart pounded within her as she rushed forward, heedless of the fighting on either side of her. She could hear Halbrand's muffled curse behind her, but she did not stop until she was between the two.
"Both of you, stop. Uruk are attacking from the north."
She could not see Ontamo but heard his sharp intake of breath. Gil-galad did not lower his spear but did step back, brow raised. She saw him turn his attention away from their immediate surroundings and to the battlefield at large. It was evident the moment he realized the truth of her statement. His face settled into a grim mask and his eyes flicked to Halbrand.
"So, Sauron has brought his forces to bear in this battle. Was this all an excuse to surround my army?"
"They are not his. We have fought the orcs on many occasions. We had heard word of their movement here in the north, but our investigations were disrupted before we could find out their aim. Adar must have decided our infighting was a prime opportunity to attack."
Gil-galad scoffed, but another, nearer, sounding of the orcish horns cut him off. Galadriel glared at him. "Can we at least take care of the orcs before we continue this? Even if you believe Sauron called them here, you know the orcs will slaughter men and elves indiscriminately."
With a grimace, Gil-galad nodded. He turned back toward his own troops, voice raised to be heard over the din. "Elves of Lindon, the Uruk of the Black Lands seek to destroy us while our back is turned. Look to the north. Spread the word to elf and man alike."
Galadriel turned to Halbrand and both raised their own voices with him. The din around them waned slightly, combatants on both sides pausing to listen and lowering their arms. The word spread, and men and elves alike turned north to face the orcish forces.
"My lord, m'lady, what are your orders?"
Galadriel turned to face Ontamo. "We must help those at the flanks. If my theory is true and the orcs are attacking from both north and east, the elves are surrounded. We must try to aid them."
"With all due respect, General, why should we help those who came here to destroy us?"
To her surprise, Halbrand answered before she could. "Our petty squabbles are meaningless if orcs sweep over this land. You remember the destruction of the Southlands. Orcs seek only to destroy. Think of the women and children left behind in our cities. The wrath of the elves would be kinder to them than any fate at the hand of orcs."
Ontamo nodded, though he still glared at Gil-galad. "If that is your command, my lord. I will gather those I can find and move to the north lines."
"Thank you," Galadriel said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiled before turning back toward the south.
Halbrand turned to her next. "Galadriel, the orcs have attacked from two sides, seeking to surround us. Their own flank is undefended."
Galadriel frowned at him for a moment before her eyes widened in realization and she glanced down at the adamant ring still at home on her hand. She looked back at him, eyes flicking between him and Gil-galad. "Will you be alright without me?"
"If I'm not, it will be no more than I deserve. Do not think of me. You have the chance to save lives, both man and elf."
Galadriel nodded slowly, still holding his gaze. "Make sure you are still here when I return."
Halbrand cracked a small smile. "I will do my best."
She heard Gil-galad asking questions, but she ignored him and turned, flitting among elves and men as she made her way to the southeastern edge of the battlefield. Once she left the armies behind, she allowed herself to sink into Nenya's power once again.
What colors remained after the clouds had rolled in were further muted, leaving Galadriel in the stifling fog of the ring's power. The lights of the men and elves were behind her while a great host of orcs arced across the east and north of the battlefield.
Moving to the far edge of the orcish line, as far from her own troops as possible, Galadriel let herself succumb to her dance of death. The power roared through her veins as she picked orcs off from the back edge of their lines. The Uruk fell before her like stalks of wheat before a scythe.
Step forward. Slash. Step to the side. Repeat.
As always when under Nenya's spell, Galadriel lost track of time. She knew she had skirted the line from southeast to northwest and back before the number of twisted orc-lights began to thin. When she saw her allies start to intersperse with the orcs, she forced herself away from the battle and wrenched her consciousness back out of the ring.
The rush of noise and colors nearly blinded her.
Cries and clanging steel rang out over the neighing of horses and tramp of boots in a deafening cacophony. She staggered back from the deluge before taking stock of the battle. With the Uruk army being whittled away from behind, the combined force of elves and men had been able to hold off their assault at the front.
Without the influence of the ring, Galadriel moved quickly back toward her own line, taking out any orc foolish enough to cross her path. She needed to rejoin Halbrand and make sure that Gil-galad had not taken her companion's punishment upon himself in her absence.
The ground was littered with bodies. Mostly orc, but many elves and some men as well. Now that the fighting in this area was dying down, Galadriel called out for those still standing to aid any they saw lying injured but alive. She was pleased to note that her men were willing to help fallen elves as well as their own comrades.
When she finally reached the place she had left her companions, she found Halbrand and a wounded Elendil standing opposite Gil-galad and Celeborn. All were bloody and battle-worn. Other nearby elves were beginning to congregate behind their king, most likely seeking new orders.
"Are you unharmed?" Halbrand asked as soon as she rejoined them. He reached out toward her but, with a quick glance at their companions, drew back.
She smiled tightly at the group. "I am as well as I can be, considering the circumstances, but I would rather like to draw this whole affair to a close before my exertion gets the better of me. My lord, Gil-galad, I must ask once again—" Galadriel faltered as Halbrand suddenly stiffened and drew his sword. An instant later he leapt toward the high king. The screech of blade piercing armor rang out, and Galadriel could only watch in horror as Amantur was plunged through a golden breastplate.
I am sorry for the cliffhanger. I am happy to report that the full draft has been completed. I will be wrapping up edits and posting the last two chapters early next month. Thank you all for joining me on this journey. It has been a pleasure.