Celeborn smiled to himself, "You'll see some of it but after putting down that rabid curr, you'll have as much time in the world to see everything." Daugo had never considered the immortality complex that had been oh so graciously bestowed upon him by Iver ripping Andreth to shreds. What would happen to his kids? What would happen to him?
They passed through the fords and into the lands of Rohan as the sun smiled upon the Noldorin column.
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'And so it came to pass that Melkor, or more commonly called Morgoth, the Black Enemy, was beaten by the combined strength of the Valar and the Children of Illuvitar. Though, at the cost of nearly everything. Beleriand sunk into the oceans from the damage caused by his dragons, drakes, minions and the powers of the Valar. It was only when Orome blew his horn, Valaroma, and caused Melkor to quiver as it was like lightning cleaving the clouds; when Tulkas wrestled him to the ground; Ulmo choked him with the waters of Beleriand; Aule bound him with Againor; both Yavanna and her sister, Vana, wrapped the floral ground around him; and both Manwe and Varda smote him whilst Mandos and his brother, Irmo, called Lorien, by many, drove his allies and the Balrogs away with the support of the Eldar and Men.'
Sigeric read from the Fall of Beleriand. He noticed a round circle drawn around the name 'Melkor', 'Mandos', 'Orome' and 'Tulkas'. He had read much on Tulkas so far, all telling great tales of his part in disrupting Morgoth, having been the only Vala that Morgoth feared. Little was said of Orome aside from details of his wife, Vana, and that he was a great horseman with a steed called Nahar and he had the largest of horns called Valaroma. The entire book seemed to be devoted to Melkor, detailing him as the main antagonist of the story whilst Mandos was seen as a commander and foreseer of the future. The Valar were a strange bunch, that was clear. Sigeric also noticed a little heart drawn next to the name of 'Vana', that had been smudged slightly, yet still bore a lasting resemblance. What did it all mean? How would they defeat Morgoth alone? Shifters and elves? The elves had all but failed until the Valar arrived, though, Morgoth had armies of dragons, orcs, and werewolves with him. Still, how would they slay him? These thoughts were interrupted by the crack of a twig nearby.
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Above Iver was a great eagle. Pretty big compared to him and it glided above him, cawing and staring down. After hearing the screech it swooped down, attempting to grab Marco off Iver's back, talons incoming.
"Above you," Vlad said.
"Manwe's pet, eh." The Trickster mused.
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In the distance Cardiloc saw a patch of burnt ground where his father's house used to be. The buildings around it were still standing but the big house was gone. The latrine, kitchens, outhouse and family cabins were still up. What had happened?
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Dimitri found his old family house. He saw someone sitting out on the porch, in a rocking chair. An old man looking back at him.
"It's been awhile, Dimitrius," His adoptive father said, rocking backward and forward slowly.
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The Tombstone lay over where Durin's body was. Grimnir would have to push it over to find the Dwarven King inside. There was a clink somewhere in the darkness of Moria, that went unheard by Grimnir.
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"I am a sworn shield of Eru Illuvitar! Not Manwe, not Morgoth, not Aule!! I WILL DIE DEFENDING THIS DOOR, SO BE MY OATH!!! YIELD OR FIGHT, PYRUS! YIELD OR FIGHT!!" Calon said, giving Pyrus one last second to raise his blade or turn around. What would the Maia choose? What would Pyrus do?!
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A whetstone scraped down the side of his sword. He rubbed it off on the rocks that he sat on. The wind buffeted his new clothes and he had yet to adjust to them. They weren't his particular colour. He always preferred the blue of the deep sea or the white of the clouds. Yet, he had to adapt. He had no home. No friends, no, that was wrong. He had some friends. A sad smile crossed his lips as he thought about them. Ha'zi, Dimitri, Cardiloc, Sigeric, Iver... he remembered their names. Even the many that died, Radaa, Dean, Yuri, Freida, Polly, Celeste, Margoz and Elodrin were the names that came to him. He sharpened the sword further.
"It's done. He's back." Tulkas said to Eonwe.
The Maia stopped sharpening and put away the whetstone, hand still on the hilt of his longsword. He looked up at Tulkas, mighty and muscular. The Vala was huge. About twelve feet, but Eonwe knew he could be larger if he wanted. Tulkas the Mighty. Tulkas the Strong. At least he had him. Eonwe still mused about Manwe, who was like a father to him in most aspects. Yet had forsaken him for one disobedience. He remembered some of them. Aule, the Smith, Vana the Everyoung, Nienna the Weeper. But, they didn't act like his brothers or sisters. They acted like his lords and ladies. Which, they were. Even Tulkas.
His true brothers and sisters were the Maiar. Their names flooded his mind: Mineltar, Osse, Uinien; Arien, who brought a smile across his face, he remembered her, they had been great friends and shared much together, she had won his heart eons ago, and he had won hers, yet she had a duty and so did he; Pyrus, Quellon, Alatar, Melian; Ilmare, he felt a pang of pity and anger for her, she had fallen like many of them to the darkness that Morgoth provided, ensnared by his lies, he only wished he had known before it was too late; Pallando, Olorin; and of course, Mairon. He had much to contemplate of his twin. He had been the dutiful one whilst Mairon had been the intuitive, the creative, the logical thinker, the schemer. He had fought and Mairon had crafted and tinkered and was ensnared. He could be saved, yes, he could be. He had once come to him eons ago after the War of Wrath and begged forgiveness, if only he had given it.
The regret cut into Eonwe. He had failed his own brother. His closest brother. He knew Mairon, more than any other. He knew the truth. He only wanted to be set free. He had made bad choices. But who didn't? There was goodness in him. He could be turned. Eonwe was certain.
"Ahem."
A voice interrupted his thoughts. He noticed him. Turin Tarambar, Turin Niethan, Turin the Wronged.
"Hello," He said weakly. Eonwe was not very good at introductions.
"Hail." Turin replied, "I am Turin son of Hurin."
"Eonwe," he was about to say 'herald of Manwe' but paused to think, "Follower of Eru."
"Good to meet you." Turin walked over and shook the Maia's hand. Eonwe stood and saw the man was tall but not as a tall as him.
"We brought you back so you could, um, deal with a certain someone that has become an apparent inconvenience. It is within our aligned goals to end this individual." Eonwe looked over at Tulkas.
"Morgoth, aye?"
"Indeed." Tulkas said, kicking a boulder over. They were on an island off the coast of Middle-Earth. Tol Morwen. It was stark and desolate and had taken a lot of time and energy to resurrect the man. Tulkas had done most of the work but Eonwe had offered up a part of his power, his own essence to the man. Eonwe felt significantly weaker but according to Tulkas his strength would return with time. Though, he was not specific on any dates.
The Vala stood upright and turned to both of them, his majestic figure blocking a chunk of the setting sun in the east.
"Time to get the band back together. Eonwe shall be our shield, Turin, you will be our sword, and I, I shall be the spear. Now, all we need are some bows and arrows." Tulkas spoke, laughing at his analogies. He placed his thick hands on Eonwe and Turin's shoulders.
"What about the other Valar? Might we need their aid? And what of the Karoltai? I am sure they would devote their lives to ceasing Morgoth's."
"Na. Manwe and I aren't on speaking terms; Ulmo I haven't visited in centuries; Aule isn't my type; Aldaron has been missing after the incident," he paused after this taking a moment to think, "Namo is too full of himself; Irmo is awkward; and I don't pay much attention to the Valier, aside from Nessa." He smiled, darlingly. "She's pre-occupied, currently, though. It's just down to us but I'll be bringing in my Champions. So, do not worry. We'll have enough to kill Morgoth and make it back in time for dinner. The only foreseeable problems might be Sauron." Tulkas turned to Eonwe, "If he is there. You shall have to take care of that problem. Remember, protect Turin at all costs, retrieve Gurthang and stab it into Morgoth's heart. If we can't find Gurthang, this will have to do," Tulkas snapped his fingers and an oversized dagger fell out of the air and into Turin's hand.
"My personal blade. Stab it into his heart, Turin."
"I understand." The man said, staring at the blade and placing it at his side in his sword scabbard which was empty.
"And he'll be dead."
"Like a pile of rocks." Tulkas said, laughing and kicking a boulder off the island, sending it flying into the ocean, a couple miles away. Turin laughed, Eonwe remained stale faced.
"Cheer up, Eonwe. We're getting some friends soon. Remember, Stadus?" Tulkas held Eonwe in a headlock and ruffled his silky brown hair. "He'll be joining us!" And all three of them vanished from the island with a snap of Tulkas' meaty fingers.
((Hope you enjoyed))
