Tears of the Valar

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They are gone!”

Crasthion looked up at Peferio who stood in the entrance to his tent silhouetted by the rising sun. Putting his hand up to block the light the still-groggy general squinted.

“Who?”

“The Dark Force. They are all gone; their keepers … some are injured, but they say they simply took off in the night after a messenger arrived.”

Suddenly alert, Crasthion sat up and began pulling on his clothes.

“What messenger? From who? Where is Vetoran?” He grabbed his boots and fastened them quickly, picking up his weapons as he exited the tent with Peferio.

“One of the flying ones,” the agitated man replied as they hurried over to Vetoran’s tent. “It came in, went directly to their holding areas, and then they just broke free.” He did not bother to ask permission but simply burst into their fellow general’s tent.

Vetoran was reading over reports and sipping juice while his companion made certain the general’s things were in order. The young man saw the concern in the other two generals and immediately left the tent at a slight nod from Vetoran.

“What has you in such a state this morning?” Vetoran asked, taking another sip of juice and setting aside the paper he had been perusing.

“The Dark Force has gone after receiving a message from Lastharos,” Crasthion told him before Peferio could speak.

“What?” Vetoran stood, the camp stool on which he sat tumbling over from the sudden movement. “He sent no messages to us?”

Peferio shook his head.

“The messenger flew straight to their area, then they left according to the keepers.”

“Which way did they go?”

“Northwest, where else?” Peferio was suffused with dread. “It is an ill omen. We are being left behind---he no longer trusts any of us.”

“Calm down,” the older general told the upset man. “We must follow with all haste. Likely they have received orders to attack in advance.” He remained outwardly unruffled but inside he agreed with his comrade. This was a bad turn of events.

“It is my fault,” Crasthion said quietly. “He does not trust me and so he is punishing everyone.”

“He does not trust anyone,” Vetoran countered. “It is not your fault my friend. It is Lastharos.”

Orders were given to strike the camp and move out quickly. They had no chance of actually catching up to the creatures, but they had to try. They feared for the people ahead of them.

***

The party from Rhun moved quickly now that they were on semi-familiar ground heading in a vaguely southwesterly direction. As they neared places they remembered from their first pass through the country, Naveradir and Helcarin, who had been in the lead pulled up short. The others halted and followed the ellyn’s gazes toward the southern sky.

“Clouds?” Alexandra asked quietly though the darkness was moving rapidly and she felt no wind.

“No---fell creatures the likes of which I have not seen since the War of the Ring,” Legolas told her, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow so quickly she could not follow his movements. The others followed suit though the beasts did not seem to come as far as where they were; they seemed concentrated on something a bit further to the south through the trees.

“They are attacking something or someone,” Haldir murmured. Indeed, the others could pick up the sounds of faint screams and shrieks and the gentle breeze carried with it the scent of blood.

“We cannot let them kill more innocents,” Erestor whispered as he began riding swiftly toward where the creatures seemed concentrated. Vanurion, Cunion and Sarendir had already begun riding in the direction of the beasts followed closely by Pomea and Naveradir. Helcarin did not hesitate to follow his lady and the other Elves gave no thought to not entering the fray.

“Stay back,” Legolas told Alexandra as they galloped through the trees. “I will not have you harmed.”

His wife did not dignify his preposterous suggestion with a reply and he knew there was no preventing her from joining in any battle.

The sight that greeted them was of unbridled carnage. As before, travelers had been attacked, but this time, instead of a single family separated from their companions, an entire caravan was under attack. More than one hundred mortals, their children, animals and belongings were being harried and scattered by the swooping creatures who seemed simply to toy with the humans.

“Get under the wagons!” Naveradir shouted to the people as he fired arrows into the attacking beasts.

Too frightened to think, the people followed his orders unquestioningly though some of the men tried to fight with what meager weapons they possessed. Elven arrows flew straight and true and several of the creatures fell lifelessly from the sky.

Alexandra aimed the crossbow and took down a few of the beasts as she rode through the crowd of people, ripping arrows from corpses to re-arm her companions. A large creature that looked to be a lizard with wings swooped down above her, its claws tearing at her arm. She felt a sting and swore, snatching her hand back to hold it against her chest. Looking down she saw a bloody gash across her forearm.

“Son of a BITCH!” she shouted then aimed the crossbow directly at the thing’s face and fired. It struck the beast in the mouth as it had opened it to shriek at her and she was satisfied to see it fall dead.

The winged assailants seemed to be thinning out or retreating and the Elves began to concentrate on helping the wounded. Cunion, Elladan and Elrohir had already dismounted and were checking on the people who were lying on the ground. Some were beyond help but most were at least able to move a bit.

“Lastharos’ pets,” Legolas spat as he looked with distaste at the bodies of the fell creatures.

“They seem to be leaving,” Saelbeth remarked, watching the beasts circle high in the sky.

“I do not believe they are done with us,” Vanurion replied.

“Indeed; it is not like such things to give up after just a taste of blood,” Glorfindel added. He had dismounted and was setting the leg of a woman who had fallen trying to get away from the attackers. Sarendir held her steady and spoke comfortingly to her as the golden-haired ellon did his work.

“I agree,” Haldir replied. He tore some strips from a piece of cloth he found in one of the overturned wagons and tied it around the boards being used to splint the leg.

“Listen!” Orophin sat up in his saddle and scanned the surrounding terrain. The other Elves paused and concentrated.

“What is it?” Pomea asked, holding her tatequalme ready.

A rumbling sound seemed to emanate from around them. The mortals looked around with wide-eyed, panicked expressions, some clinging to their Elven healers unconsciously, forgetting for a moment they were terrified of these beings.

“Something else comes,” Elladan whispered, drawing his bow using arrows Alexandra had found to replenish their supplies of ammunition.

“No wonder the others retreated,” Erestor murmured as the first of the werewolves and serpentine creatures came into view.

The people began to run but could find no escape. From every direction some of the foul beasts seemed to creep, crawl and slither toward them.

“Get back on the horses,” Glorfindel told the Elves on the ground.

“We cannot leave these people down here; they are helpless,” Elrohir told his mentor.

“We are not abandoning them,” the Golden Lord replied patiently. “However, we must fight from a position of strength. Get back on your horse.”

Reluctantly, Elrohir did as Glorfindel said though he would not leave the small group of wounded.

As if on an unknown signal, the beasts on the ground suddenly swarmed over the group of mortals and Elves. Swords flashed, arrows flew and once more the battle was engaged.

Everything became a blur as the fight continued seemingly with no end in sight. Just when it seemed they might be making headway against the dark creatures, the ones who had appeared to retreat had rejoined the fray and the Elves began to consider the possibility that they could all be killed.

Helcarin tried not to despair. His friends would all be killed because of his quest. Though his fathers’ words and those of Inderion rang true, they brought no comfort now as he faced the prospect of imminent death. His fault; all his fault …

He looked around as the sounds of the battle seemed to fade into a faint hum. Saelbeth was between a werewolf and a small family that huddled beneath a cart. The ellon who had been his friend in his childhood fought with fluid ease. Elladan was pulling his sword from the body of one of the flying beasts that looked like serpents with legs; his brother Elrohir not far from his side fending off a shadow figure.

All around him he could see signs of fatigue in his kin and their eastern cousins and knew they could not single-handedly win this fight.

“All for nothing,” he murmured as nausea rose. “Oh, Eru, forgive me … I am weak.” He closed his eyes and prayed one of the fell creatures would take him and spare his friends. His pride had led them here …

“Helcarin!” Erestor saw his son standing apart, unprotected as several of the creatures closed in. They seemed to regard the young ellon with interest and looked as though talking among themselves. Suddenly they swooped down, claws extended to grab him as Erestor threw himself at them.

“NO! You shall NOT have him!” He slashed at the beings, cutting one through the side. It fell with a shriek and he turned his attention to the other one.

His father’s words had brought Helcarin out of his dazed state and once more he joined the battle. If he was fated to die, he would do so with honor, not as a victim, but as one who did not give in to Lastharos’ evil.

The creatures continued to try to reach him, however and the ones on the ground hindered them from fighting the ones from above. Two of the great winged vampires appeared out of seemingly nowhere and headed straight for the young ellon. Erestor saw them and pushed his son away, getting between them. The creatures once again seemed to speak to each other in a strange guttural language then without warning latched onto Erestor’s arms, their talons digging into his flesh, causing him to drop his sword.

“ADA!” Helcarin cried and Glorfindel looked up in time to see Erestor struggling with the creatures that lifted him high above the field of battle.

“Legolas!” the Golden Lord called to the prince, the only one who still had arrows in his quiver.

Looking in the direction Glorfindel indicated, Legolas sighted the creatures and fired two arrows at once. They flew true, straight toward the beasts’ throats but shadow figures materialized between the arrows and their targets and disrupted the arrows’ paths long enough for the vampires to escape with their victim.

Before he could release the next two arrows one of the serpents struck at the young prince, knocking him to the ground and quickly winding around his body.

“NOOO!” Alexandra saw her husband fall and was on the serpent quickly, squeezing its throat, twisting it to keep it from wrapping further around Legolas. Long, sharp nails dug into the scaly flesh and she pulled the coils from around him as he fought to escape. The battle, however, had taken its toll and both the woman and her Elven husband were growing fatigued. She met his eyes and saw him beginning to lose the fight.

“Don’t you let this thing win,” she hissed at him desperately. “You can’t …”

He did not waste breath responding but continued to try to push out of the tightening coils. His efforts were growing weaker, however, as the serpent continued to squeeze tighter with every breath and movement.

Suddenly a sword thrust straight down into the serpent’s head, pinning it to the ground as two hands grabbed Legolas and pulled him from the writhing serpent’s grasp. Looking up, Alexandra saw Naveradir twisting his sword in the creature’s head and Orophin supporting Legolas as her husband once more regained his breath.

“They are leaving,” Sarendir commented as he came over to them. Indeed, the beasts seemed to be vanishing into the underbrush and sky, fading away as the surrounding area became quiet.

“Erestor,” Legolas gasped. “Vampires … took him.”

Orophin and Naveradir grabbed their mounts.

“We will follow,” the Lorien Elf told the others. “We will leave signs for you to follow and will meet back at this place if we cannot find him.”

“Or if he is in Mandos,” Helcarin interjected. “It is my fault. He was trying to protect me.”

“Why?” Vanurion asked, not unkindly. “Was something happening to you specifically?”

“Some of the flying creatures … they seemed to speak of me and tried to get to me, ignoring closer prey. Ada … I was lost in my thoughts and he stopped them from taking me.” He looked down. “I will go after him …”

“No.” Glorfindel’s voice was firm. “Orophin is a much more experienced tracker and Naveradir is more familiar with this land than you. Let them do their job.” He watched as the ellyn sped after the path the vampires had taken. The creatures could not fly for long with their burden and would likely stop to rest and then spend some time on the ground running with their Elven prisoner.

Pomea put her hand on Helcarin’s shoulder offering wordless comfort.

“Come my love,” she finally whispered. “Let us see to the wounded. If those things return, these people will be helpless.”

Helcarin nodded, watching Orophin and Naveradir growing smaller in the distance. It was true; they were older and more experienced ellyn and could find Erestor easier than he could. Still … it was his responsibility---his fault.