East-front by Gwenniel

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Chapter 4

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Now that we could regain our pace the original plan could be followed again. At last we could have the Dorthonion beacon be lit. While the rest rode on west to battle, the small group that had been reserved to be in charge of lighting the fire set out for their task. Some time later a herald came up to me and bowed his head.

"The beacon has finally been lit," he said. I immediately looked up. On the far peak on the cliffs of Dorthonion I could see the fire, the smoke indicating that it had been recently lit. Findekáno would see it, I thought. They'll know we're coming. Forgive our lateness. But at last we were coming. I bade my army hasten.

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A thick smoke was rising from Angband. The summer-sky was dimmed by the fumes that cast dark shadows on Anfaughlith. The air smelled foul, of blood and death. The battle had begun days ago and we were the ones to attack the enemy from the rear. I knew not what had befallen as Findekáno had assured he would wait even if we were delayed - but obviously none of us had been expecting a delay this long. Far away on the western side, closer to Barad Eithel, I knew he was standing. If grace was granted to us we would make it to him before the battle was over.

I commanded my army to take its formation. Let this day be remembered as the day when the Union of Elves, Men and Dwarves beat the Enemy. Again we blew into our horns. The sound echoed across the field and not long after a reply called out to us. The trumpets of the House of Fingolfin echoed in a joyous greeting.

And so we rode forth.

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Having our vanguard on horses was a good tactic against the multitude of Orcish infantry. Their spears might be long, but Tyelkormo's troops hewed a way through them and made a great deal of damage. May this luck last, I thought, so that we would make it to Findekáno - we were late already.

The noise of the hooves on the ground thundered before us, causing chaos in the ranks of the enemy. Of course Morgoth had been expecting us, so we could not take them by surprise any more, but creating two fronts in the battle worked out to our advantage. My army was obedient and leading the attack went well. We had arrived in the middle of an ongoing battle in the nick of time. Quickly another troop was sent out to follow Tyelkormo's. Carnistir who was still on the northern flank would take his part to spur from the north-east, thus spreading out our army more evenly. We had calculated that there was always a possibility that, if spread out too much, our forces would become too thin and communication and re-fortification would suffer. Yet if spread out optimally the risk of becoming surrounded by the enemy would decrease.

My bannermen still around me, Macalaurë not far away, I watched over the battle and from the gentle slope we were situated on we could see most of what happened. High in the distance flew the banner of Tyelkormo - I could see his spear gleaming in the morning light lead a manoeuvre against a rank of trolls that had been given way to set out against us. It was a dangerous move from Tyelkormo, but with him being skilled in surrounding a prey in a hunt, his tactic turned out well although I could see there were losses on both sides - more so on the enemy's, however, so I allowed myself a small smile at the success of my brother. But just as I was about to turn to address the ones around me, there was a change in the battle. Morgoth had let forth another proof of the power he had at his command.

It was one of the loudest noises I had ever heard. An inhumane roar, a snarl of a monster, it was a fire-spouting dragon, it's scales as if gilded covering its massive body. It came straight towards us. I knew that dragon just as well as anybody.

"That is the dragon we have seen in Dagor Bragollach! That is the dragon Fingon fought!" I shouted to my army, yet to no one in particular, fiercely drawing out my sword. "It is the father of dragons; it is Glaurung!" Indeed, the golden worm turned its head towards us as if it had heard its name. I almost thought I saw it smirk, but then another jet of fire and smoke heated up the air, and even our horses neighed in terror. Findekáno had beat it once, but back then it had been smaller. Now it was as larger than a ship, a terrible lizard, its eyes gleaming golden fire, its breath stinking of brimstone and smoke and the ground seemed to shake as it rumbled forward..

Glaurung wasn't even alone - two more were at his side, smaller ones, but to our disadvantage nonetheless - and they turned towards west to fight the army of the High-King. Glaurung, however, came our way.

A shining spear glimmered far in the distance, pointing its forces into attack. The vanguard was in its full might and it would fulfil its duty of guarding and making way for the army - they had no choice in this dire situation. A thunder of hooves, a roar of the dragon. And I could do nothing but look as the vanguard once again was hit by the blaze and yet never ceased to fight and to shoot at the beast, to attempt to pierce its thick natural shield of scales with swords and sabres. The last I saw of Tyelkormo was when both his helm and banner were lost behind a jet of fire.

Macalaurë beside me said nothing, his eyes wide as he gazed into the fiery swirls that overtook the troops. "They will have to get off their horses to fight those flames," he whispered.

"We will have to get off ours, if we are to fight them," I replied. "The second unit cannot face it alone - we need to send out more."

Suddenly a voice called out and someone pointed towards the sky. Behind the dragon I now saw armoured Balrogs soaring from Angband and my heart was clenched by a cold. When we had arrived Morgoth had been in full battle against the western troop - it seemed as if he wanted to finish there first before coming our way, because the Balrogs sped to the opposite direction, westwards, set out to slay the High-King. But my side of the battlefield was in no less peril.

"Has the other unit been sent?" I shouted across the noise. "I shall go against them myself if need be! We have to fight them."

"No," Macalaurë said quickly, turning to look at me. "I will fight, but you will not. Someone has to remain."

I looked at him, but knew there was nothing to argue against. It had already been decided on and now that things were in motion, there was nothing to do.

Another blaze from the dragon, this one bigger than the previous ones. I saw the shadows of the horses and their riders as they fell and would not rise back up; I smelled burnt and sulphuric smokes; I felt the earth shake again as the dragon moved on, all the while approaching us. The vanguard had fallen.

"Tyelkormo."

Curufinwë was beside us. His mouth had turned into a thin, pale line, his fierce dark eyes even darker in a face from which blood had fled. "I will take my flank to their aid," he said. "I must!"

I was about to say something, but he had already lifted his sword to point to where the dragon was sneering at us. "You know I must. I have to replace the vanguard," he said to Macalaurë and me, before shouting out a call and ushering his troop to charge. With a roar, his battalion left us in their wake. On went the Elves following Curufinwë out of loyalty and duty and the Dwarves out of agreement and because they, too, wished for the dragon to be brought down. Their axes were thirsting for blood, but their masks on their helms thirsted even more - monstrous faces had been depicted on them, jaws of beasts, skulls of the dead, imaginary and real, only three times more terrible. And so they went forward, one by one, more of them disappearing to the fire of the plains. Somewhere there in the West, I knew, was Findekáno too, somewhere beyond this fire, somewhere... alive. I thought I would have felt it if something would have happened to him. He had to be alive.

From that I pulled my strength - this was no time for faltering hope. It was not that long ago since I had stood in the dawn on Himring, pledged that today we stood united. I remembered how the army had cheered. My army.

I threw up my sword again and I knew that those who still stood beside me counted on me. "Allies!" I cried out as I caught the handle. "Make today go down in history."

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Slashing, hacking, blocking, my sword danced through the Orcs. If my army was to stand united, how could their leader stand back. If I died, I thought hazily at some point, Macalaurë would remain to guide this division. But I would not die. Even as the dragon still made the ground tremble, I felt powerful, I felt alive. My right hand hurt in no way.

On the other side of the field the ferocious lizard spat out fire once again. I threw aside the body of the goblin that had got a taste of my blade and looked up. I had not seen Curufinwë since he had set out after Tyelkormo, but I could but trust they had the situation under control. Azaghál is with them, I thought. Of our northern side I knew little - in the midst of the battle it did not matter, however. Pityafinwë and Carnistir would handle it, and Macalaurë was now out there as well. More slashing, more hacking. An Elf in front of me fell but another took his place quickly. Thus we went, machines of the nature. But my sword sang in joy as more of black blood was smeared on its edges.

Then Telufinwë was there. Two of his companions were with him, but why were they here now? I quickly pulled out from the fight. My brother looked unhurt, but I did not ask, for he had a strange expression in his eyes, although I did not know the reason.

"We are few!" he called out through the noise.

"Yes," I said.

"Is Bór dead?"

"Not when I last saw him. Why do you ask? We are in battle - what do you want?"

"The Men that were in my cavalry are gone. Things are in chaos," Telvo said, something flickering in his eyes. "They left - aren't they here for their lord? They should, as should the House of Bór."

For a moment I did not understand what Telvo was talking about, yet my heart seemed to realize something was amiss. But I could not answer his questions very well. The Edain horsemen of our flanks had left their positions and, deprived of half his battalion, Telvo had been forced to pull together the remnants to keep them from being dispersed and lost in the fires of the enemy. Bór was not dead - surely someone would have informed me?

Suddenly a horn was heard. I thought I recognized it as the sound of the horn of Ulfang. It came from the North where his men were fighting alongside of Caranthir, but why would it call out now of all times? Had something happened? Telufinwë glanced at me quickly before looking far towards West, and when I turned to follow his gaze, another horn sounded and my knuckles tightened around my sword. Telufinwë stepped up to stand next to me.

"That's an Orc horn," he whispered. I knew.

Around us, more Orc horns called out, west, south, east, and then again the signal from the North. Someone raised his own horn to blow out an answer, but I raised my hand. "Don't!" This was not according to our plans. The horns seemed to join in a mocking choir, their foul screeches echoing each other. It was the tide coming in. Now it dragged the Elves and the Men and the Dwarves from their feet. On a cliff that stood higher than the rest of the plateau, I saw a figure walk up, the banner of our union in his hand. A second later he set in on flame and threw it onto the ground where it was lost into the throng. Treachery was so easy. Orcs roared in triumph and the northern flank was taken. There Ulfang had turned against us. It had been like adopting a warg ´- it is easier for the wolf to bite when it has been let inside the house. The northern flank had had a warg among them and now it had bitten and it was too late to barricade the doors. Caranthir's ranks would crumble from the inside and I realized how well Morgoth must have planned this. I remembered Azaghál's words, long ago it seemed now. "What do they know of us and what do we know of them? They have joined this war for reasons other than ours."

"Where is Bór?" I shouted out crossly. "Where is Bór - he is my ally unless he, too, has turned to treason. Is he with us?" No answer; my troop was as lost as I, not knowing what had happened, how it had happened, what it would lead to.

"Pull together!" I cried. "They will not breach our troops if those of us who are true of heart stand together." I sorely wished for this to be true. "We need North to get here, we need South if they can muster it." I glanced South and my my heart fell - the smokes were now so thick I could barely see Glaurung, let alone my brothers, if indeed they were slit standing.

"They have the Dwarves," Telufinwë said, reading my thoughts. "The Dwarves will not betray us." It was true, I thought. I had not heard any signal from the Dwarves. Neither from Bór, for that matter. But now I had no time to think about it. We needed to regroup as soon as possible. So we raised up our banner higher than before - so that everybody would see where hope still lied.

I kept giving orders, I kept slashing enemies that came too near. A troll tumbled down dead as I drew a spear from it, and with no time for disgust I stepped onto the carcass and shouted again out loud: "Those true of heart stand together!" It was all that I could do.

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Chaos was upon us. I did what I could, but felt it wasn't enough. By now I had no idea of how Findekáno was faring - according to some, his side had been forced into an untimely attack the day before and that now the Balrogs had been sent to seek out the High-King. After everything that was going on, the value of truth in the rumours was somewhat questionable, so I could not afford to risk trusting another tale that might have come out of the mouth of the Enemy. Nonetheless, I thought. Nonetheless there is a chance the rumours were right, in which case it is all the more important that we regroup as soon as possible and join forces with the West. And yet such a union seemed impossible at the moment.

Telufinwë was beside me. My little brother was fierce with his sword, but now we were moving back to a set of the commanders of troops to stand back and focus on organising the battle. We tried to pull back a little - the western battalion had to stand or else it would be surrounded, that I knew. Now that the Easterlings had deserted us the task was even more difficult as enemies were among us and fought against us with weapons given to them by us. Still I saw Elves stand tall, but I knew that the odds were all against us.

We hadn't pulled back far - we moved slow anyway - when a tremendous noise sounded from the South. It was the dragon. Something or someone had hurt it enough to cause it to screech out in pain and the shout was deafening even across the distance and amidst all the other noise.

"Did they succeed..?" Telufinwë asked unbelievingly.

"I don't..." I said, but then we both saw that the beast was still alive. It writhed and wrangled in pain, but still caused chaos as it smashed its huge tail. Even as it turned back north, its going mowed down many - both Orcs, Men and Elves - as they were squashed beneath its enormous body. Its going was unpredictable and even when wounded its fires havocked and lit aflame both carcass and hide. Even now it was a terrible threat.

At that moment Telufinwë let out a cry and many Elves around us joined his shout: "Make way for the Princes! Make way for the Fëanorian Lords!" My head spun around and there was Curufinwë, the remnants of his troop behind him, his armour bloody but intact, and on his side was Tyelkormo on a horse I recognized as not his own. Tyelkormo wasn't in as good shape as Curufinwë: his left shoulder was unnervingly bloody where a spear had pierced his clothes and there was a nasty looking burn-mark on part of his face, no doubt works of Glaurung. His eyes seemed a bit dazed, but at least he had no troubles sitting on his steed, the natural horseman that he was.

"What has happened?" I asked urgently.

"The vanguard fought well and bravely, but when Glaurung came..." Curufinwë began.

"He spat the fire all at us," Tyelkormo said wearily. "Even our horses were terrified. I don't know where mine is any more..."

"When I came to the scene the vanguard had been dispersed. We tried to drive the dragon back and with our footmen we might have almost succeeded in it, but - you heard the horn-calls? The Orcs and the trolls reinforced themselves and we were once again at a disadvantage and there were too many wounded."

"Then... then," Tyelkormo begun, but was interrupted by a violent cough and even as he shielded his mouth with his arm I saw more blood stain his sleeve.

"Then your calls reached us," Curufinwë took over, "and Azaghál told us to go. He stayed behind, though. He himself took his remaining Dwarves and made his last stand..."

"Is he still alive?" Telufinwë asked.

Curufinwë shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But those Dwarves were valiant."

"Where's Macalaurë?" Tyelkormo asked.

I told quickly what had happened here, of Carnistir's probable trouble and of how Macalaurë had set out. Thus they knew as much as us - none had yet heard how the remaining troops had fared. They say one feels it in one's fëa if someone one cares for dies and as of yet I hadn't felt something like that - I could but desperately believe that my brothers were still alive.