Dimitri was thrust in Sigeric's direction as Celeborn shoved him and shouted, "Flee!" His voice was cut off as a loud thwap split the air from behind the Forochelrim and Dimitri heard a bone-cracking CRACK.
The Iron Hunter, after firing a volley of his knives at the two black rangers who had dived to the floor behind one of the beastly corpses, had attacked Celeborn. Its massive ebony iron fist smacked into the elf's side and sent the Noldorin Lord soaring into a broken oak tree. As Celeborn's light form crashed into it, a loud CRACK reverberated through the forest air. The elf's slacken body collapsed, falling and skidding down the side of the tree, clothes and armor ripping. Sigeric saw Celeborn's head, eyes half-opened, break through a branch before hitting the ground with a resounding THUD. His crumpled one-armed body lay there inanimate.
Iver did not know what was happening out there. He had tried to save his friend and instead got a knife in the stomach. Typical. Where was Thoruk? Was anyone going to help him out from here? Darkness began to appear at the corners of his eye. Hering and Pethon slowly crept back up against the corpse of the creature and peered up to witness the Elf Lord's demise. Their arrow had done little to it. And now this monster, this Iron Hunter, marched towards its next victim. Dimitri.
A thick meaty paw gripped the Forochelrim's shoulder whilst he was still dazed from everything that had occurred. Dimitri was unable to fight back, especially with his wounds and his prayers to Tulkas fell on deaf ears as he was lifted off the ground and brought face-to-face with this gargantuan thing. Some demonic spawn of Morgoth, some twisted devil, something horrid. His eyes could not penetrate the coal armor of the hunter as he heard it gargle and spit something out at him with an almost unearthly clear voice for a creature of such destruction.
"Karoltai Dimitri, Casari." He spoke in that strange language. It sounded almost familiar to the Karoltai. Sigeric, Iver and Dimitri's memories spiked and as a result something happened to them all. Across all distances, each and every Karoltai, even Cardiloc, experienced a sudden surge of energy. It was as if an electric shock had run through them all and each mind synced to a specific memory, a single moment in time. They were all back on the island, standing before Ilmare as she unleashed Morgoth from the Void with her chants. Her voice. The language she spoke. The Iron Hunter's and hers were one and the same. Then they were sucked back into reality.
"Darmate, Tulkas! Morgoth kandelinakus verinteri halenikamasu jeirananu?!" It exclaimed loudly, almost demandingly as it shook Dimitri violently. The Forochelrim's legs dangled in midair as it had lifted him five feet above the ground and was completely fixated on him. It's other hand swiftly raised up with another one of its knife-like arrows and brought it to Dimitri's throat and suddenly spoke in clear Westron, "Speak, servant of Morgoth! Who was it that slew Tulkas?!"
Unexpectedly, someone flew down from the trees above and crashed into the Iron Hunter from atop. A flash of white hair, the gleam of a swift blade, and a mighty screech.
"Effírië!" 'Die!' Glorfindel's unmistakable voice, tinged with vengeance, resilience and rage erupted as the elf stabbed his longsword directly into the Iron Hunter's neck-armor, sliding it down and pushing it through with sheer force that no mortal could ever hope to wield.
The Iron Hunter roared in agony and dropped Dimitri, the Forochelrim hit the ground and his knees gave way. He could not even move himself let alone stand. Above him, the elf and the Iron Hunter danced in tandem, grappling with one another and yelling obscenities, curses and challenges untold in tongues that were alien to him. His eyes slowly shut and he fell through an abyss of sweet, peaceful darkness.
Sigeric saw the opportunity and took it. He could grab Dimitri and bolt, but then that would leave his dim-witted half-brother behind to die in a puddle of self-failure. Ahead of him, Glorfindel dueled with the Iron Hunter, having been thrown to the floor, he slashed at its kneecaps and ran in circles, dashing around the beast as it threw shard after shard of sharpened obsidian glass at him, breaking the black armor. Even with a longsword clamped down its spine, the Iron Hunter continued to fight.
Glorfindel was quick, a blur of pearly grey as he darted through the thing's legs. He had been approaching it under the cover of the leaves from above to save Celeborn when that monster attacked him. Now his Lord, his Commander, his superior was dead. He had died for those worthless Karoltai. Damn them. Damn them all to the Void. Too many had sacrificed their hearts and souls for them. And now Celeborn...his...no....Celeborn's death would not be in vain. This beast would die here and now. And so would Morgoth and Sauron and the rest of these abominations.
"Sí ar lúmessë ya firuvammë," He yelled from the bottom of his heart and leaped to the left as a dozen shards of black raked the ground where he had stood. 'Now and at the hour of our death,' the words replayed in his mind as he raked his daggers along the abomination's elbow as it attempted to hammer him. Celeborn twisted and flung himself at it again, "Násië." 'Amen.' He slashed its blackened mask to no avail and kicked off it, spinning in the air.
It was almost beautiful. Those of them that were witnessing it saw the gallant motions of a swan, almost natural as if practiced for centuries against those of a murderous rampaging devil. White against black. Good against evil. It was almost poetic. Iver felt himself about to pass out when someone pulled him out from under the body. His eyes caught sight of one of those rangers.
"Pethon, let's get outta here!" Hering yelled at his subordinate as the man dragged the Flying Shifter backward from the ensuing duel. Sigeric had seen that the Gondorians tend to Iver who was closer whilst he went directly for Dimitri. The fight was boiling down before him as Middle-Earth's fiercest warrior fought against what could only be another experiment of Morgoth. Glorfindel was fast. Incredibly fast. But that thing...it was quicker than anything its size should be. It's movements were meteorically nimble. Glorfindel may have the advantage in speed but that was waning. The elf had fought the entire day and now against this foe-
DRAKKKA. The blur of gray that was Glorfindel was caught by a mailed fist pressed in the opposite direction which had caught him slightly by the stomach. The elf doubled-over mid-air and before he could even hit the ground, a vicious kick flung him into Sigeric. The Dalishman felt the air in his bowels empty as the elf hit him and both of them were sent spiraling into the mud. When Sigeric's eyes opened, again the world was no longer spinning and he could taste blood on his lips. Not his blood. Or maybe it was. Next to him lay Glorfindel who was curling about and slowly clambering back up, both his daggers were missing and the only weapon that lay insight was the single-Maiar blade that Sigeric had tossed to Celeborn. Unfortunately, Celeborn had not caught it since he was in the act of aiding Dimitri.
A black spike slammed into Glorfindel's right thigh as he stood back up and fell again, "Tchh." His teeth gritted as he held back a scream and crumpled into the dirt. Sigeric saw their opportunity for retreat had evaporated as the Iron Hunter stomped forward towards Dimitri's body with terrible strides. He gripped the Forochelrim's leg and lifted Dimitri up over his shoulder, sickly hanging him like a hunter would do to a skinned carcass. The Iron Hunter noticed Sigeric and a shard of obsidian appeared in less than a second, it prepared to throw it like a dart at the Guardian Shifter when movement from the bushes drew its attention.
Out of the Ithilien forests, three figures appeared. Eonwe, Daugo and a rather queer-looking Maia. They seemed to take in the situation and the two taller figures took a step towards the Iron Hunter, both bearing weapons. Eonwe with a single Gondorian short-sword gripped in his unbroken left hand and the other, who was Salmar, wielded two sea conchs which gleamed brightly in the darkness of the night.
"The joke and the coward." The Iron Hunter muttered seemingly unfazed as it turned to face the newcomers. "Finally you show your face, mutt. And you recruited Salmar to aid you. Pitiful."
"I was in proximity. I came of my own accord." Salmar replied coolly.
The Iron Hunter grunted. It's hands fell to its sides and gripped onto a pair of darts from its seemingly endless arsenal of projectile weapons. Dimitri's body hung limply from its right shoulder, held in place by armaments that had found their way into the joints in the Forochelrim's armor.
Eonwe's grip on his blade tightened and he whispered to Daugo, "Fly, Master Burgins. I cannot guarantee your safety." The Hobbit obliged, requiring no need to be immature and protest so the Maia turned to their foe and asked, "What is it you seek with that man?" He motioned at Dimitri.
"The truth," the Iron Hunter spat, "And justice. Two commodities that have become rare these times."
"And what truth may that be, friend? There is no need for this bloodshed?"
"Blood had already been shed." Eonwe proclaimed gloomily glancing at the field of bodies. At least twenty Gondorians had died here and plenty more wounded.
"The truth....." The Iron Hunter grunted, hefted its hands swiftly and flung the blackened darts at both Maia at a velocity that whistled through the air. Both dodged to opposing sides and a battle ensued.
Whilst they fought, Sigeric saw Glorfindel struggle to stand and aided him in doing so. To their left Daugo had made a run down the path where Hering and Pethon had dragged Iver towards the hideout. Dimitri was embroiled in the clashing and it was clear the Iron Hunter would not surrender him peacefully. The Maia clashed with the beast, the newcomer using a mixture of echoing-blasts from his seashells that were quite effective in neutralizing the movements of the Iron Hunter whilst Eonwe battled him under duress. They were barely holding it off.
Glorfindel gasped, "Fight." And turned to grab the Maia blade that lay nearby. Sigeric stopped him. The elf was in no condition to fight, let alone walk. He was driven mad by anger and rage. "Fight." He repeated almost imperialistically and pushed Sigeric, managing to free himself of the Dalishman's grasp. "Fight." Glorfindel reached out to wield the blade but Sigeric pulled him back and convinced him, explaining the losses they had sustained and indicating the fact that Glorfindel would certainly die in another confrontation with their foe. The two Maia were struggling in combating it and it was likely they would loose as he did, so, Sigeric explained, it was in their best interests to retreat and live to fight another day. Instead, Glorfindel, blinded by stubbornness and rage attempted to push forward but Sigeric subdued him.
"Allow me to die." Glorfindel asked, not hesitating for even a moment. "This world is lost. I failed my people. My mission. Ce-my Lord. I failed him. And now he is deceased. They are all deceased. Allow me to join them. Allow me to die nobly. Allow me to rescue your friend that my Lord sacrificed his life for so that his death shall not be in vain. Allow me a chance at vengeance even if I am to perish." Sigeric realized there would be no arguing with someone as willfully obstinate as Glorfindel and instead allowed him to take up the Maia blade. He struggled to walk but somehow managed to limp forward with strength unseen to any elf. Glorfindel's leg bled rapidly as he moved towards the ensuing fight with persistent resolve. This was where he would die. Whether he avenged Celeborn or saved Dimitri, this was his end.
From the corner of Sigeric's eye he noticed movement. A crumpled body began to move. A bloodied-blonde head of hair raised and Sigeric saw Celeborn's eyes glimpse back at him through a haze of blood. He was alive.
Eonwe was thrust backward by a parry from the Iron Hunter as it bellowed ludicrously as Salmar's conchs hit it with a blast of deafening noise which reverberated through its armor causing shock-waves throughout the Iron Hunter's body. The thing batted one of the conchs out of the air using an arrow and proceeded to bombard Salmar with a number of them. Eonwe used that opening to follow up with a multitude of strikes which were intercepted and countered. It was too quick for them. Salmar hit it again with new conchs and it repeated the same tactic, destroying them and unleashing a hail of darts. The Maia were barely able to shield themselves and dodge each projectile. Eonwe was clipped thrice and his right arm ruptured in pain as a dart pierced through the broken bone. Damned Pyrus. He had left his brother for dead in the wastes of Mordor. He tried to offer him solace. But he refused. Now he was dead. Damn them all. They were meant to be brothers. Not kinslayers. The fury boiled within him.
"Damn you!" Eonwe launched himself at the Iron Hunter and was smashed into the earth. His blade fell from his hand as the sheer weight of the punch knocked it free. Before he could even react a plethora of strikes bashed his head into the earth. BAM. BAM. BAM. CRACK. His nose broke. BAM. BAM. BAM.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Salmar's conchs had little effect on the Iron Hunter as it beat the living shit out of Eonwe. Finally it relented, gripping the sides of Eonwe's head and yelling into his ears at the top of its lung, "YOU PATHETIC ROACH! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DEFEND HIM! ABSOLUTELY USELESS!" The Iron Hunter head-butted Eonwe. CRACK.
A piece of it's mask broke off revealing a sliver of tanned cheek-skin beneath the ebony armor. A lock of gold bristled through the hole. Eonwe's left eye widened, his right was shut and bruised over from the sheer brutality of the attack. He tried to speak but no words could come to the Maia as he stared at his foe and finally realized what was happening.
"You know what's funny, Eonwe? I once used to admire you. You were my hero. I aspired to be like you. You. Look at yourself now. Nothing. Dirt. Almost human. Weak speck of shit!" The Iron Hunter bellowed and lifted Eonwe off the ground.
"Tel-" Eonwe gurgled blood. Salmar's conchs had been all but destroyed and the Maia attempted to close the distance between them.
"Failed to obey. Failed to protect. Failed to love. Failed to speak. Failed. Failure." It raised Eonwe up into the air and reached into a hidden pouch near its obliques, pulling out a shiny silver blade.
"I-I'm s-" Eonwe choked. Salmar swallowed and tried to shout.
It raised the blade higher, Sigeric recognized it, a Maia blade. "Die."
Shlick.
The Iron Hunter released Eonwe. The Maia's body hit the floor with a thud. Salmar paused then moved to his friend, grasping onto Eonwe and vigilantly extracting him. The Iron Hunter groaned slightly and twisted around, hunkering for the first time, with shock.
In it's left kneecap, a Maia blade had been shoved as far in as possible. A single one-armed figure stood defiantly challenging it. Celeborn.
A distance away Sigeric supported Glorfindel. The elf had given up his weapon when his Lord had commanded for him to do so and had stepped down when ordered to. Celeborn had taken the duty onto himself and carried out the attack.
The Iron Hunter looked down at the blade in his leg. Then up at Celeborn. The Lord of Lothlorien glared fiercely at the Iron Hunter. No words needed to be exchanged. And for a brief moment all was still.
SHLICK.
The movement was too quick for any of them to register. The Iron Hunter's Maia blade had found its way into Celeborn's stomach, the beast twisted it in and kicked the elf into the dirt. It grunted and removed the blade in its kneecap and proceeded to leave, ignoring Salmar and Eonwe's retreat. Dimitri lay draped over its shoulders, symbolically almost as if to represent the spoils of war.
Glorfindel cried out, he tried to walk and his legs shook but he kept moving forward, leaving Sigeric and running shakily over to Celeborn. Sigeric was too phased by what happened. How did it survive? Why? Dimitri? No....
"My Lord!" Glorfindel exclaimed as he reached Celeborn, and with extreme difficulty, lifted the elf up, slowly taking each step with painful agony towards Sigeric. "To the Houses of Healing! Aid me, Guardian Karoltai! He is your Commander, help-!" The stoic coherence that Glorfindel emanated was quickly betrayed by the trembles in his voice and the mixture of emotions in his eyes, those glassy grey eyes which fervently switched between Sigeric's and Noldorin Lord's closing eyes. Celeborn muttered something in Quenyan before gazing up, dolefully at the sky.
"HELP!" Glorfindel's voice finally broke through to Sigeric and he assisted the elf.
Everyone had been waiting patiently for the storm to come to the hideout. Erchirion and the remaining escort and garrison force had barricaded and shored up defenses of the eastern entrance to Henneth Annun. When Hering and Pethon appeared with the Hobbit and the Dalishman they readied for battle to follow but instead what they received was complete defeat. Ha'zi, Thoruk, Daugo, a dazed Iver, Arandil, Magath, Karstir, Harros and two dozen Gondorians watched as one tall queer-looking blue-haired male dragged Eonwe's body, which was a bruised bloody pulp at this point. Following them were Sigeric and Glorfindel who carried Lord Celeborn between their arms. His head lay precariously limp as they laid him down in the infirmary and the healers tended to him. Celeborn's wound had bled tremendously and it was clear that no amount of herbs could save him. He had lost enough blood when his arm was bitten off. It was a miracle he survived that. But this...
They had all gathered around him and Glorfindel watched dismally as Celeborn lay there, unconscious. After a few moments it was clear his breathing had ceased. The elf's face contorted in pain and Glorfindel covered his face in his hands, falling back against the cave walls of Henneth Annun as the healers covered Celeborn's body with old brown linen rags. Sigeric did not need to use his power to feel the elf's pain. It was all too clear. Yet, what was it that Celeborn had said before he passed? Sigeric did not understand the Elvish language well enough to discern an answer and he was too fatigued to exert anymore power in peering into Glorfindel's mind. So, instead he asked.
"What were his last words?"
Glorfindel remained silent for a minute. All eyes fell on them. He exhaled, his breath outlined in the cold cave temperature.
"Save them."
((Time-Skip Part 1 - Complete.))
