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.
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Naveradir’s head was covered by a jeweled cap that had solid pieces which covered the tips of his ears and allowed his hair to be woven through it. He was dressed in opulent robes as befitting a Rhunian despot and his weapons were hidden in his belts, boots and as ornaments.

Maglor and Dehlina nodded as they surveyed their work on the ellon.

“You certainly look the part,” Maglor told the Elf with a smile. “As long as Lastharos does not wish to run his fingers through your hair you should be safe.”

Naveradir chuckled. “Or as long as he does not wish to see me naked; Men have body hair do they not?”

“Yes,” their host replied. “So I advise you to not pique his interest in yourself.”

“I will try to resist the urge,” Naveradir said dryly.

“You, however, will be difficult for him to resist,” Maglor told Orophin. The blonde ellon was richly garbed as well, but in much more revealing garments. His weapons were also disguised as ornaments and hidden in places that they hoped none would search. He smiled sourly at the Noldo’s words.

“Wonderful. At least I do not have to worry about any lack of body hair.”

“Oh no, he will not expect it of you,” Dehlina could not resist teasing him. She pulled on a robe to cover her sheer skirt and short jeweled vest and tossed her long hair back. She had removed it from its braid and it was held back from her face by a jeweled band to which a veil was attached to cover her head and from her nose down so that only her eyes showed. After much argument she had finally convinced Maglor and the rest that she should go with the two ellyn to help guide them in Fwaban.

“They do not know where to go and may not know all of the customs. I will be safe as Naveradir’s wife.”

“Lastharos will take you if he desires you,” Maglor pointed out. “He is not one to respect the claims of any.”

“Without meaning any disrespect to the lady,” Erestor cut in, “I believe he will be more excited to get an Elf than with a woman.”

Maglor sighed, knowing Erestor was correct. He knew his daughter was strong and quick-witted and could defend herself; he also knew the ellyn would not allow harm to come to her if they could possibly help it. He and Erestor could go but Erestor was known and would be immediately imprisoned while someone who knew the escape means would need to remain on the outside in case help was needed.

The group exited the caverns and made their way around to where a road led to the gates of the city. Their mounts had been retrieved and brought to the cave while they had made preparations for their mission and were now waiting for them. Few people traveled the road so they would not have to worry about talking to others.

“Kidur will return should we need help,” Naveradir told the two Noldo. The dog wagged his tale at the sound of his name and the Rhunian Elf rested his hand atop the creature’s head, rubbing it gently. “If we have not returned or you have not received word from us in a week, then please try to get word to the others that we are gone.”

“If you have not sent word in a week we will come after you,” Erestor told them before bowing to the ellyn and the woman in farewell. He even reached over to caress Kidur’s head before going back toward the caves.

Maglor stepped forward and hugged his daughter to him tightly. “You must return at all costs,” he told her. “Do not let Lastharos touch you.”

“I will do what I must, Ada,” she replied softly. “I am your daughter and have learned well from your teaching. Do not worry over me.”

“I must,” he told her with a smile as he stepped back and looked into her grayish-gold eyes. “I am your father and that is what father’s do.”

He nodded to the ellyn and stepped back to watch as Naveradir mounted one horse and Dehlina, the other. Orophin and Kidur walked behind them as the trio and the dog started down to the road and then began making their way toward the city.

***

Crasthion and his two prisoners rode in silence, stopping only for relief and to rest the horses, drink some water, eat some of the dried meat and fruit, then start back along the way. The Elves were forced to tend to their needs while still bound atop the horses and so had no chance of escape.

“What troubles you so?” Elrohir finally asked their captor as they rode through the hills.

“We are at war; why should I not be troubled?”

“You are a soldier,” Haldir pointed out. “War should not trouble you in and of itself.”

“All war is undesirable and wars against one’s own people even more so,” the man replied without thought then cursed himself for expressing his thoughts. “Do your people not fight among themselves?”

“In the past,” Elrohir responded; but kinslaying is one of the worst crimes to our people. Some of us were exiled from the Valar because of it.”

“Kinslaying,” Crasthion murmured almost to himself. Yes, they were guilty of that crime because of Lastharos’ orders. It mattered not; he would be paying for his sins now.

“You do not wish to return to Lastharos,” Haldir told the man quietly. “What have you done that he summons you from the front?” He had seen Crasthion looking at a parchment with a seal and the man’s expression had been one of fear, disgust, anxiety. “What hold does he have on you?”

“He is the Supreme Ruler of Khand. I am simply his servant,” Crasthion responded automatically.

“He is insane,” Elrohir shot back. “What kind of leader kills his own people? We know of Lastharos; he has wronged our kin and his creatures have killed our friends. You owe him nothing.”

Crasthion turned and glared at his prisoners. “He is my leader and I am bound to serve him. This is my home, Elf, and I must defend it even if it costs my life.”

“Defend it, yes; destroy it, no. I too am a guardian of my home and I would never kill my own people in senseless slaughter. That is not defense of your land; that is following the orders of a madman.” Haldir could see his words affected the man by the way Crasthion’s shoulders stiffened.

“I am bound to serve my leader,” he repeated, his voice tight.

“You are bound to serve Khand.” Haldir answered.

“Lastharos is Khand.”

“No,” Elrohir said, “Lastharos is an insane creature that cares nothing for his people or his land, only himself and his twisted desires. He uses the people and resources of Khand to satisfy his whims. Is that what you call a leader?”

Crasthion was silent and turned his back on the Elves. Haldir and Elrohir exchanged glances; they could see their words had affected him to some degree. They only hoped it was not too late to prevent more bloodshed.

Damn the Elves! He had tried to resign himself to his fate by telling himself it was his duty as one bound to serve Lastharos, but their words had struck a chord in him. He was not bound to Lastharos but to Khand. He remained silent as he thought on what they had said.

***

“Where do these caverns end?” Glorfindel asked Allase once they had returned to where the others waited.

“I do not know,” she told him truthfully. “I have never been this far into them and I am not old enough to remember when they were last used.” She called to one of the older men in the crowd and he came over to where she stood.

The man gave the Elves a suspicious glance but was not openly hostile and smiled at Allase.

“Yes, young lady; how may I be of service?”

“Master Linaire, do you know where these caverns lead? The Elves say the army is getting ready to enter the city and it is not safe for our people to return to their homes.”

The old man stroked his long gray beard in thought. “I believe they lead to an underground river that must be followed and it leads to the exit; at least that is what my grandmother told me when I was just a child.” He studied the Elves who had fought for them. “The army is above us you say?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel replied. “We closed the door to the surface and piled rubble around it so any who search should not be able to find it and if they do, it will appear as if it has caved in once they open it. Still, it is not wise to be trapped with so many people. They could do much damage to the survivors.”

Linaire nodded. He was one of the town’s elder council members and, from what he had seen so far, probably the only one left. Looking about he saw the people of Naraketh scattered around the vast cavern. They were frightened and hurt and had no one to lead them. These Elves at least seemed capable and seemed to inspire confidence.

“What do you suggest we do, Master Elf?” he asked Glorfindel.

The Golden Lord looked to his friends then answered. “I would suggest we move deeper toward that river. Perhaps it will dissuade any who try to hunt us from following if we leave no sign that this cave has been used. Then, if we must escape, we will have everyone closer to the exit. If nothing else, the river should give us fresh water.”

“Aye,” Linaire agreed. Calling some other men over, he explained the plan and soon the people were once more being herded through the long passageways. Glorfindel and Helcarin were in the lead with Elladan, Vanurion and Saelbeth in the center of the group. Rumil, Legolas and Sarendir brought up the rear with Alexandra.

“We are heading in a southeasterly direction,” Rumil noted. “The same direction Elrohir and Haldir were being taken.” When they had returned to the cave and informed the others of their sighting of their two missing comrades, Elladan had added his voice to Rumil’s in wishing to pursue them immediately. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed and he was reminded of his incapacity at the moment though he remained anxious to find his twin.

“So it is fortuitous that we are able to help lead these people to relative safety while still accomplishing our goal of rescuing your brother and Elrohir,” Sarendir replied with a smile.

“How many survivors do you think there are?” Alex asked as they tried to encourage the group to move swiftly. She kept looking over her shoulder, convinced there would be pursuers at any moment.

“I would estimate at least six-hundred,” her husband replied.

“Out of a city of almost four-thousand?” Sarendir shook his head. “Only one-sixth of their people survived. We were unable to make much difference by remaining here.”

One of the men in front of them heard their words and turned to face them.

“No, Master Elf; you are wrong. Had you not helped us to fight then none would have been able to make it down here to escape and likely we would have all been killed. Most of the survivors are children so they will be able to grow and perhaps do some good for our land in the future. Thank you for your efforts.”

The man’s words caused the Elves to smile as they realized that indeed they had done some good in Naraketh and Pomea and Cunion had not died in vain.

***

“None are left alive in the city,” the captain reported to Vetoran and Peferio as the generals rode into what was left of Naraketh. What had once been a large and busy city was now nothing more than charred rubble with the stench of death all around.

“Crasthion’s parents were from here and this is where he was born,” Vetoran mused. “I am glad he did not have to see it like this.”

Peferio nodded as he began to ride slowly down one of the side streets. The damage did not seem quite so bad here, but there was utter silence. He wondered how the residents had managed to put up a fight against the Dark Force. For the first time they saw shadow-figures, werewolves, vampires, the flying serpents and other beasts lying dead.

“The people of Naraketh were better fighters than any knew,” Vetoran commented, echoing his friend’s thoughts. “Look---that vampire’s wings are torn from its body, not simply cut. How did they manage that?”

“My lords! You should see this,” a soldier called from the doorway of a large building a bit further down the road. The two men looked at each other then rode swiftly to where the one who had summoned them stood in the open door of what appeared to be a stable.

Dismounting they walked over to the man.

“What is it?” Vetoran asked.

“It is like the prisoners the Vampires brought to the camp,” he replied and gestured to where two forms lay. They had apparently been covered with blankets but were now exposed.

The light from the door and several broken windows revealed that indeed these were Elves though one looked to have been burnt quite badly and was recognizable only by the pointed ears.

“A female,” Peferio breathed as he gazed down at the body of the woman---was that what female Elves were called? He reached out to touch her lustrous black hair, shining even in death. His fingers brushed over her delicately pointed ears then down over her body. He saw she had been stabbed, likely with a sword, and even though she appeared to be only sleeping, there was no doubt she was quite dead.

“So there were more than just the two,” Vetoran murmured. “How many Elves were in Naraketh?”

“And are they the reason the people were able to mount some sort of defense?” Peferio added. None of the other cities or villages had put up much of a fight, if any, in the face of the Dark Force and the army. Certainly none of the creatures had been killed until they encountered these … Elves.

Vetoran was silent as he pondered the significance of the Elves’ presence in Khand. If the two they had captured had only been a fraction of the number of Elves actually in the realm, then perhaps there was something going on that could mean ill fortune for Lastharos. Perhaps the Elves were the new sun that had been predicted.

He gestured to Peferio and the two generals returned to their mounts and rode back to their camp after giving orders that the Elves’ bodies were to be buried and the graves marked outside the walls of the city. If there were others of their kind in Khand, they did not want them to think the Khandun had desecrated their dead.

The men left to carry out the task had to admit they were somewhat spooked by the sudden appearance of Elves. They had always heard stories about the beings and now that they had evidence that they were real---and fighting against Lastharos---they began to wonder just what was true and what was fiction.

Quite a few of the soldiers remained to watch the burial for most had not been able to see the prisoners before General Crasthion had departed with them. They crowded around the bodies as graves were prepared.

“The female is beautiful.”

“They say the males that were in the camp were just as beautiful but one of them had hair of silver.”

“Old?”

“No, he was as young and handsome as could be imagined, but his hair shone like gold and silver threads.”

“Where did they come from?”

“I heard they were from the north.”

“No, it is the west.”

“Maybe both---like in the prophecy.”

They fell silent as the bodies were placed in the graves and covered with stones. Someone scratched the Khandun word for Elf in two stones and placed them at the head of each grave then the men all slowly returned to their duties though each carried with him the thoughts of Elves and the prophecy.