Revelator by Lilith

Prologue

Prologue.  

Ost-in-Edhil
1697 S.A.

He stood upon the battlements and watched the enemy host approach. Slowly and steadily, wave upon wave of orcs and men pressed forward with a precision of movement he had not seen since the First Age and seldom then. Detachments of wolves flanked the orcs and they leapt and gamboled in the air, chattering and howling as though they scented their prey upon the wind. He supposed they had. Another several companies of orcs and trolls pulled siege engines into position. These appeared similar to his own designs, and he wondered what improvements Thû had made upon them. They were not in sufficient range for him to see, though he suspected he would see the evidence of those changes soon enough.

“This is different,” a calm voice said.

He turned to see Celeborn standing at his side. “Is it?”

“They were not as orderly when I faced them before,” he said. “They caused as much destruction within their own ranks as in ours. The Enemy succeeded primarily through overwhelming numbers.”

“They were seldom so orderly,” Kemmótar said. “Even the Balrogs struggled to enforce order as Gondolin fell.”

“Balrogs are not much interested in order,” he replied. “Thû is, and she was not at Gondolin. She is here now. They fought so at Tol Sirion and she commanded that force. She is stronger now.”

Celeborn stirred, and Tyelperinquar knew that he thought but did not say that Thû was stronger due to the craft he had helped her develop. 

“I know,” he said. “It is my fault.”

“I doubt it,” Celeborn said. “The specifics of the ringcraft, perhaps. But she would have found another tool and another way; she decided that she wished to dominate the Elves and bend them to her will. You are no more responsible for that aim than a smith is for the deeds of the one who wields a sword he’d crafted.”

He appreciated the point but disagreed. The Rings were not swords; the craft too fine, the purpose too perilous, the risk, in the end, too great.

“Are you surprised she came?” Kemmótar asked.

“No,” he said, “I knew she would come.”

“Because she does not trust her commanders to defeat us?” 

“That and more. I defied her. She will finish this herself.”

“We defied her,” said Celeborn. “You do not stand alone. You may also choose to leave when the time comes; we need only hold the city long enough to ensure everyone has cleared its walls and taken the hidden path.”

“I cannot. I must meet her when she comes.”

“It is her doing, not yours.”

“It would serve no point if I fled, even when the city falls and all our creations are lost. I would only endanger the others. She would know if I left,” he said. “She could find me anywhere I went as I might find her anywhere she was, no matter how far and no matter how many years had passed."

“Are you certain?” his cousin’s husband asked. “We cannot hold them forever, and the fate that awaits you should she capture you is not a kind one.”

“If I stay, even if she captures me or believes she might, I may ensure that you have time.  She will tarry for that.  She will not pursue you, at least not for some time."

"That is a generous but too costly offer," Celeborn replied.

"It is not only that.  It is mostly that, but not only," he began, not looking at Celeborn but out upon the field before the gates. “I heard once that you tried to convince Thingol not to demand the Silmaril as a bride price for Luthien.”

“I did,” Celeborn replied. “I remembered what it was to be young and in love; I knew he would not dissuade them. It did little good in the end.”

“I heard too that you warned him of the jewel.” He noticed a small company of wolves and men mounted on horseback moving through the ranks and saw the army part before them. A man rode behind the company, bearing a black banner with a red eye emblazoned upon it.

“It was perilous,” Celeborn replied. “Anyone might see that. We needed no letters from your uncle to prove it.”

“You would do so again?” he asked. The company had made it near to the front lines. He saw a figure, tall and slim, familiar still, at its center. “Had you the opportunity?”

“I would,” Celeborn replied. “He was my kinsman and my friend, I loved him and I would continue to try to steer him to a better path.”

“Even if you knew you were unlikely to succeed?” Though he heard no words, he saw that Thû had given an order. The army snapped to attention. He saw her banner whip in a breeze that was not there.

“Even so,” Celeborn replied, “but Thingol was unlikely to have me killed.”

“His actions nearly did.” The wolves howled and the orcs began to pound their spears into the ground and to beat their swords upon their shields.  

“That is different.” He heard a low and steady beat of drums, and he watched her ride forward to take her place at the head of her army. She lifted her hand, the light caught something bright upon her finger, and her troops, even the wolves, fell silent.

“Even so,” he said to Celeborn as he watched her and waited for her to move. “Even so.”