Chapter 07: Dagor-nuin-Giliath

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The sound of battle soon filled the air.  The snarls of orcs, the shouts of the Noldor, and the screams of the dying mingled with the clang of steel on steel.  Clouds of arrows flew across the sky, most falling harmlessly to impact into the ground, but many finding their mark in weak points of armor, felling elf and orc alike.  It was a titanic battle, of a size that none present had ever seen before.

As the Enemy's host vastly outnumbered the Noldor, the three companions were soon left to their own devices.  Every warrior was needed to hold the line.  Ever the warrior-captain, Taurensil intended to join the battle.  For all the disgust he had for Feanor and his house, they were fighting against the Enemy, and the foe of his foe was his ally.  Taurensil resolved to fight.

Telemire, too, was contemplating his options.  Although Feanor held no love for him, Telemire would fight at his side.  After all, Feanor was his rightful liege, regardless of his past judgment.  He could not, in good conscience, let Feanor fight and die without trying to render service as best as he could.

Without a word, but only exchanging knowing looks, Taurensil and Telemire unsheathed their swords and rushed into the furious battle.  Shaelina, however, would have nothing of it. 

She was not afraid to fight, nor was she incapable.  She had proven her courage on countless occasions, whether doing battle with the Enemy or with the sea.  She simply despised Feanor and would not help him under any circumstance.  She could not bring herself to forgive him for slaying her kin at Aqualonde and stealing what was rightfully theirs.

However, Shaelina soon began to have second thoughts.  She had established a comradeship with Taurensil, and grudgingly liked Telemire despite his secretiveness.  He clearly regretted his actions in following Feanor and was repentant.  She reconsidered her initial decision and began to ready her short bow.  She would fight, not for Feanor, but for her friends.  And in the process, she would prove the mettle of her kin beyond reproach by any who witnessed it.

The battle was long and bloody, lasting for days.  All who fought were soon exhausted, but to stop and rest meant certain death.  With determined resolve, the Noldor fought through the exhaustion, for the fire of Aman was still bright in their souls, and they inflicted massive casualties on the enemy hordes with their long and deadly blades.

Taurensil and Telemire fought valiantly for days, without rest.  Always in the thick of the battle, they worked as a team, each protecting the other in the maelstrom.  Cutting, stabbing, bashing, kicking, and punching.  Killing at will, with no regard for their own safety.  Only the thought of slaying orcs drove them on.  There was no way to count the number of vile creatures that fell to their blades.  Covered in the black blood of orcs, and the red blood of their comrades, the warrior and the jewel-smith fought as if they were mad with bloodlust.

Shaelina, too, fought hard, providing accurate bow fire, and when she could no longer replenish her quiver, she used her short sword.  A fine blade, well suited for use on a ship's cramped decks, it proved to be as deadly on a battlefield.  Not the hardened warrior that Taurensil was, Shaelina concentrated most of her efforts in helping those who had fallen, always dreading that she would find her friends and hoping that she wouldn't.

The ferocity of the Noldor attacks proved to be too much for the orc host to withstand and they began to flee back toward their fortress of Angband.  But they would not be allowed to retreat unmolested.  Feanor pressed his host forward with a forceful wrath.  The Noldor host drove the orc hordes before them, through the narrow passes of Ered Wethrin and into the Ard-galen.  Within the confines of the mountain passes, the slaughter continued.

Then the Noldor learned of another enemy force approaching from the south.  It had been Shaelina that had first spotted them as she crossed over the Ered Wethrin into the plain below.  She recognized several of the banners that had once flown outside Eglarest, so many weeks ago.  Thinking quickly, she began to play on her flute a tune that she knew her friends would recognize in the din of battle.

Taurensil, even in his blood rage, began to hear a familiar sound cutting through the clamor of battle.  It was Shaelina, playing the Song of Ulmo on her flute.  He recognized the tune, though it was being hurriedly played.  A sinking feeling came over Taurensil.  He did not know why, but he knew Shaelina was in trouble.

Finding a small knoll, Taurensil grabbed Telemire and the duo sprinted to the top where they could get a clear view of Shaelina's position from the plain.  As they neared the top, Telemire could see banners waving in the distance.  These were banners unfamiliar to him and he pointed them out to Taurensil.  The Sindar knew exactly what they were and where they had come from. 

Immediately, he began shouting to a nearby captain, pointing to the south and warning him of the approaching danger from the south.  Taurensil did not know at the time who the captain was, but learned later that it was one of Feanor's seven sons, the Noldor prince, Celegorm.  Acting on his own initiative, Celegorm ordered his division into action, turning into the approaching enemy as they exited a narrow valley.  This maneuver did not allow the orc horde to properly deploy and they were quickly driven into an area known as the Fens of Serech, an inland marsh on the southern side of Ard-galen.  Here, many of Morgoth's minions met their demise and few managed to escape.

With his victory complete, and the few survivors fleeing back to Angband, Feanor could have called a halt to regroup his army for a final assault, but he was caught up in a battle fury.  With only a small bodyguard, he pressed the attack, following the remnants of Morgoth's army to the very gates of Angband.  Then his luck ran out as his ego caught up to him.

Feanor's small force was quickly set upon by reinforcements from Angband as Morgoth sent his most powerful warriors to stem the Noldor tide.  Surrounded by Balrogs, Feanor and his guard fought undeterred.  Though his companions were quickly felled, Feanor fought on alone and undismayed.  He was surrounded by the fire demons, flames burning at his body, and was wounded several times, but he continued to fight on until he was driven to the ground by Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs.  He would have died in this instant if he had not been rescued by a sortie led by his sons.

This sortie had seen what was happening and had tried in vain to reach Feanor's position.  As they fought their way up to Feanor, one of the Balrogs had turned on them with its bodyguard of trolls and a troop of orc warriors.  For all of their courage, few of the Noldor dared to engage the fire demon, concentrating instead on the trolls and orcs.  But as quickly as the Balrog had turned on them, it retreated back into Angband.  It was only then that the rescue party reached their wounded king, finding him mortally wounded.

Feanor was carried back towards the main encampment at Mithrim by his sons.  There was obvious pride in his eyes as he gazed upon each one.  There was surprise as well when he noticed, among the ranks of his rescuers, were the faces of those that he had deemed as unreliable, and the one whom he had called traitor. 

After several long days of agonizing travel, Feanor asked to be laid down.  With his last breath, upon the slopes of Ered Wethrin, he gazed upon Thangorodrim, the twin peaks of Angband, and knew that no power of the Noldor could ever hope to breach those defenses.  Thrice he cursed the name of Morgoth and held his sons to their oath and to avenge him.  Then he closed his eyes for the last time and passed from Middle Earth forever.

There was neither burial nor tomb for Feanor.  So fiery was his spirit that as it left on its journey to the Halls of Mandos, his body was consumed and fell to ash before being carried away on the wind.  Thus ended the mightiest of all Noldor, his likeness never to be seen again.