The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 29 - Fire and Ruin

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"A dragon?"

Thranduil's blood turned to ice in his veins. Another roar came trumpeting over the Hills of Evendim, sending a shudder through the ranks of the Greenwood and Imladris. The sound seems to bolster Herumor's hoard though; the hundreds of goblins and orcs under the Black Númenórian-turned-Nazgûl gained in speed as they bore down upon them.

Then the beast itself came into view, winding along the spine of the hills like an enormous serpent. It was a creature both curious and fearsome, fully the length of a dozen horses laid nostril to tail and taller than a troll. The dull autumn light made it grey scales glint like a multitude of tiny war-shields. Even from afar Thranduil could see the smoke trailing from its leering mouth.

From atop his white horse, Glorfindel let out a hiss of distaste.

"A longworm, some foul spawn of Scatha by the look of it." Glorfindel said, reaching for the hilt of his sword. "The Grey Mountains north of here have long been plagued by The Great Worm and its filth."

"Not Scatha himself though?" Thranduil asked, careful not to let any fear creep into his voice.

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, this worm is a juvenile if the size is any indication. Do not take any ease though!" The elf lord said sharply, more to his troops than to Thranduil. "Young dragons can be just as bloodthirsty if not more than their mature cousins!"

"No need to be too reassuring." Grumbled Thranduil, drawing his own sword. The blade slid free of its sheath with a clear ring. "Baraniel." He spoke to the elf to his left. "Sound the charge, and signal Thenniel to take the shot now before the armies meet. Tell her not to antagonize the dragon until it gets close though, else wise it may turn its full attention on her and the archers before we can distract it with cold steel."

"Aran-nin." Baraniel nodded, then raised her horn to her lips. First she blew a series of staccato notes to signal Thenniel, followed by a long, pure call. Raising his sword above his head, Thranduil readied his army for the charge. The horn of Imladris sounded out and mingled with the call of the Greenwood. The two elvish war-horns filled the valley with music; an eerily beautiful herald of coming battle.

With Thranduil and Glorfindel at the head, the combined army surged forward to meet Herumor's forces. 'This is how the Last Alliance should have been.' Thranduil thought as they rode along the length of Lake Evendim. Elves fighting alongside elves, together as a cohesive unit instead of divided and uncoordinated. He wondered if Glorfindel had led the Noldor instead of Gil-Galad if perhaps things would have ended differently that day for himself and his father. Maybe Oropher and even Gil-Galad himself would have lived. Or then again maybe they all would have died, leaving Anthelísse without her brother or her future husband. 'Anthelísse... '

Then all thoughts were shattered and fell away as they came crashing against the tide of orcs.

The orcs fell by the dozens before them, their black blood soon wetting the ground and the blades of elvish swords. Elves have always been and will always be the superior to nearly every race on the field of battle by sheer virtue of their natural grace and dexterity. Only a handful of notable warriors of the races of humans or dwarves throughout history have ever been compared to the elves as their equals. Needless to say, the goblins and orcs posed little to no difficulty for the elf-knights of Imladris or the warriors of the Greenwood. They were not what Thranduil was worried about though...

As the orcs met the elves in battle, the dragon came loping across the hilltops towards them. A shower of arrows from Thenniel and her archers turned the worm aside from the main battle though. Thranduil shouted aloud with dismay, anger and some small measure of relief when he saw this. Thenniel had disobeyed his order to leave the dragon be until it was distracted by the battle. In doing so she had saved the elves on the field from the dragon's wrath...but had placed herself, Gurithon and the archers directly in the focus of its wrath.