Beast With A Human Face by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Beast With A Human Face. - 

   Elrond sat beneath a tree, his arms folded on his bent knees, his head down. For more than six years the armies of the Alliance had camped before the Barad-dûr, deep within the shadow. The mortals claimed not to understand what the elves referred to as The Shadow, taking the darkness in their hearts for ordinary fear, and misery at the awful barren desolation of Mordor. But the mortals could not see what he himself, Elrond Half-Elven, struggled to percieve, the fell miasma pouring endlessly down the stony slope from the black walls of the tower, seeping from cracks in the writhen earth, clinging to their limbs, their clothes and their hearts. The mortals still talked, and occasionally laughed, but there had been no song nor harper's melody for many long months, and all the elves were silent.

   Elendil seated himself beside him and looked anxiously at him, Elrond looked up. 'If He does not answer the challenge of Gil-galad soon, there will be no elf army capable of wielding blade against him. They, we, are drowning in the darkness, sinking into The Shadow.' 

  Elendil frowned 'How is he ?' and Elrond turned to the pavillion of Gil-galad. The Shadow was so thick around it that Elrond could barely discern the blue and silver banners of the House of Fingolfin. To Elendil the pavillion by the grove of lovingly-tended saplings was a brave sight, the banners floated in the breeze, their long tails shimmering in the bright sunlight.

  'He is grim, silent, but intent on his goal, firm of purpose, fearless. But he does not speak, he does not sleep. He will not eat. He will perish without a blow being struck if the Enemy does not soon attack. I can do nothing for him.'

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   With a hoarse shout of triumph, Elendil waved Narsil above his head, kissing the pommel in ecstasy. He had fought like an elf possessed with the spirit of Oromë, he had floated through the seemingly slowed-down world, moving as a dancer through statues, skewering orcs on the hungry blade, hewing heads from foul spawn of Morgoth, slicing through their ranks for a harvest of death.

  He gazed around in horror, the entire armies, of both sides, were destroyed. The scale of the slaughter made his mind reel and his stomach sick. All his family, all his kin, his old friends, his soldiers, the new friends he had made during the long preparation and the even longer siege, all dead, gone, as if they had vanished into mist, this black mist that the elves spoke of, that he thought he could now see himself. Gil-galad, alone still standing, was looking at him with a faint puzzled frown; Aeglos, bloody all down its length, in his blood-soaked hand. His gilded armour shone no more, mired in blood, his beautiful fair skin was awash with blood, his dark hair in sticky points of drying blood. Elendil looked down at himself, he was as befouled as Gil-galad.

  Isildur stirred and moaned, Elendil crouched beside him and put a hand on his shoulder 'Hold on, lad, it is almost finished. See, even now, the Enemy emerges, Aeglos and Narsil shall teach him the meaning of vengeance for your brother.'

  He choked, Isildur tried to rise 'Father, I'm coming.'

  Elendil pressed him down 'Your part is finished, lad, Gil-galad is with me yet, together we shall defeat Him.' Isildur looked up anxiously and nodded

  'Valar protect you, father.' 

   Elendil stood and looked up, Sauron himself, the last cornered rat, had finally emerged. Gil-galad was slowly walking towards him. Elendil sighed and hauled himself up the slope. His limbs felt heavy, his vision seemed blurred and dimmed, it was his oldest nightmare, of running in slow motion from terrible pursuit; he gripped the hilt of Narsil and staggered after Gil-galad. From the low hill far behind he heard a faint cheer, Elrond and the squires waved the standards and he heard the word 'Elbereth !' float in the faint breeze. Gil-galad stood straighter, and strode towards Sauron, who stopped at arms length and looked at Gil-galad in silence.

  Elendil shouted 'Kill him !' but Sauron took off his helmet and shook out a mane of shining golden hair. His face was so beautiful that Elendil gasped. He could see a tremor pass across Gil-galad's rigid form. Elendil groaned. Mortals did not like to destoy beautiful things, but for elves beautiful was good and good was beautiful, it was in their blood, in their very bones. Gil-galad, even strong and healthy, would find it very difficult to raise a hand against something as lovely as Sauron appeared to be; in Gil-galad's current condition it was unimaginable.

  Gil-galad swayed as Sauron smiled at him, Aeglos twitched in his hand, Elendil realized the enormous effort that Gil-galad had put into that motion and knew that he, Elendil, a mere mortal, would have to face the Enemy alone. He laughed bleakly, remembering his arrogant boast as he had landed in Middle-Earth, that had come to this.

  As he reached the top of the slope he realized that Gil-galad fascinated Sauron, distracted him, and that he himself could now cover the last few steps unobserved. Sauron stepped in front of Gil-galad, gazing at his beautiful eyes, for which he had been called Starlight.

  Sauron's hand rose slowly and touched Gil-galad's cheek, and Elendil, as outraged as an elf, lunged forwards with Narsil outstretched and pierced Sauron to the innards. Sauron, his face twisted with pain, his yellow eyes blazing with fury, seemed to move invisibly fast, one moment he was staring into the eyes of Gil-galad, the next his hand was at Elendil's throat, crushing his windpipe

  'It burns !' screamed Elendil with his last breath, and Sauron threw him aside and whipped round to where Gil-galad leaned forwards with a dreamy smile and impaled Sauron on the point of Aeglos. 

Chapter End Notes

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