But Maybe That Was The Light Of The Trees by Nekomitsu

Balar

In response to the March 13 entry at the B2MeM 2011 challenge. Write a story or poem or create artwork featuring unanswered requests, prayers or pleas.

Makalaurë's keen ears could hear a distant prayer to the Powers in the West beyond the frenzied beats of the drums and the cries of legion upon legion of orcspawn.  He detachedly hoped the High Kind led the prayer, as Findékano's pleas from the Ered Wethrin would surely earn the Union unexpected allies.  "The eagles," he fancied the elven host cried.  "The eagles have come!"

But the eagles never came, and neither did Doriath nor Nargothrond.  Halfway between battling and turning around in flight Makalaurë cried.  Unbeknownst to him, fat tears left grooves down the mix of grime and blood on his face.

It was fine, it was all right.  There was a reason they called it the Unnumbered Tears.