Surrender after the War of Wrath by Uvatha the Horseman

Defeated

The War of Wrath does not go as planned.

Defeated

Angband, FA 1000

Most of the orc armies had been killed or routed. The Balrogs closed ranks and advanced to face Manwë’s herald, Eönwë, the greatest swordsman in Ea. It was over quickly. Maybe one of them survived, at most.

It got worse. Their entire defense was built upon the fleet of dragons, and the mightiest of them, Ancalagon the Black, had just been slain. His broken body fell out of like a stone and crushed the towers of Thangorodrim.

The hollow mountain groaned, and began to collapse. He couldn’t see through the dust, but he thought the outer curtain wall had fallen over into the crater it left.

He looked outward. The Host of Valar was advancing towards the gates of Angband. Melkor had seriously miscalculated. Even with their fortifications intact, and all their forces, they could not have withstood them.

He stood there stupidly, slack-jawed. His arms hung limp at his sides. The pole of Melkor’s standard must have slipped from his fingers then. He wasn’t sure when it happened, only that he didn’t have it later.

The Host of Valar drew close enough that he could see their faces. Hard, angry, pitiless. He expected they would call on him to surrender and prepared to throw down his weapons, but the call didn’t come. They approached him with their weapons drawn, their eyes without mercy. He turned and ran.