- Prologue :: Last Year of the Second Age -
“When we reach him, we just charge in at him.” Gil-galad coughed on the smoke that surrounded them, hanging heavy in the air. “Do not retreat- this may be our only chance to defeat him.”
“Once he is gone,” said Isildur, “the rest will be in chaos. We will easily overcome these vile creatures.”
Elrond cautioned them. “That ring he wears is vital! Let no one else take possession of it- not his minions, not one of us. The ring must be destroyed.”
Gil-galad opened his mouth to object to this; instead he pulled on Elrond’s arm to get his attention. ‘Perhaps I should have done this long ago. Here.’ Something was taken from his finger, dark grey as the soot covered it as Gil-galad continued to speak within his herald’s mind. ‘You seem to understand it better than I. Take up the rear; if the rest of us fail it will aid you.’
The exchange went unnoticed by all of the men in this little council situated behind a mound of ruins to keep them concealed. All, but the one other elf present. He said nothing of this, simply asking, “What are my orders, my king?”
“Erestor, I want you at my back. Between the two of us, we should be able to cut a path right to him.”
Elendil placed his hand upon Gil-galad’s shoulder. “The rest of us shall follow you. Let us send this foul creature to the pits, once and for all.”
There was no hesitation. Gil-galad gave a nod to Erestor, and the two warlords leapt over the barrier that had kept them hidden. With lightning speed, they tore through the soldiers of evil who opposed them. Close behind, the battle cry of the men rose up and followed, charging through the path that was being made. “I may not succeed, but I want a chance at him first,” growled Gil-galad to Erestor as they closed in on Annatar. “I want him to taste my spear.”
Having no objection, Erestor fought harder, looking for a chance to break through. When he saw it, he took it- apparently, one of the other elven armies had some similar idea to theirs. The crest upon the banners held aloft was too hard to make out, gold and green perhaps. But no, realized Erestor, they were not fighting for a chance to take down the dark lord; they were trying to distract him from those few who were making this noble effort.
Erestor caught the grey eyes of their leader for a moment. It was easy to see that he was their captain, for he wore no helm so to be easily distinguished by his troops, but the fact he had not been included in any of the meetings between the generals and lords spoke his rank. Despite the dirt and muck of the battle that covered them all and smudged their fair skin, this elf remained radiant. His golden hair waved in the foul wind that came through the battlefield as he called up the charge and rallied his troops. This golden one kept a keen eye, jumping into the fray with his soldiers. Such a pity that one so beautiful would likely be slaughtered, thought Erestor, unable to keep from stealing glances as he continued to fight alongside Gil-galad. So many had fallen, and nearly none who had made it so close to Annatar lived to tell of it.
With one final enemy to kill, both Aiglos and Raugamarth were plunged into the charging orc. Pulling Aiglos from the corpse as it fell, Gil-galad kissed the handle of his spear, then with one final look to Erestor, charged forward with a roar of anger, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. Erestor meant to follow, but his eyes betrayed him, straying back to the other side of the field.
There was the captain, fighting without mercy. He grabbed the banner from one of the fallen, waving it round and gaining the attention yet again of the dark lord. Erestor barely made out the shouts of this golden warrior as he continued to fight, but there was obviously some personal reason he had for being there. How sad, thought Erestor again. How sad they would never meet; not only would he have been a great companion in battle with the grace he posessed, but again Erestor thought of how breathtakingly beautiful the warrior was, even in the heat of this battle, how magnificent. Erestor did not delude himself; with the way the battles had been going, they were all going to die. At least in these last few minutes of his life, he had been given the chance to see something of beauty again.
“Erestor!”
Brought back to his senses, Greenwood’s General looked back to where he had heard his king call to him. All he saw was a brilliant, blinding light. Unable to look away, he tried in vain to focus. Everything seemed to crush in on him, press down upon him.
“Erestor!”
This was not Gil-galad. Lowering his sword, Erestor turned away from the light, only to find it still surrounded him. Actually, it was fading now, fading to darkness. Someone was helping him to the ground, leaning him against something. “Erestor, are you hurt?” It was Elrond; the healer always asked these words first.
“What happened? Why is it so dark? Did Gil-galad make it? Did he defeat Annatar?”
Elrond’s answer was not immediate. He helped Erestor to sit better against the remains of a tree trunk. Placing a hand upon Erestor’s shoulder, he said, “My friend, no. Gil-Galad did not succeed. He is dead.” Elrond choked on the word, then continued, “Annatar is no more. Elendil fell, but Isildur took our enemy down. The darkness has lifted, my friend.”
Indeed, Erestor could hear the sounds of the armies rejoicing around him. Trumpets sounded the dawning of a new reign, one not of fear and darkness, but of goodness and light. Rubbing his eyes, Erestor fought in vain to see what Elrond described to him. “How... how did he die, Elrond? How did Gil-galad fall?” It was terrible to ask such a thing of Elrond, knowing how close he was to their King, but he found himself asking anyhow.
“He was... destroyed,” was the best Elrond could answer. “He drew back his spear, but as he did, some spell overthrew him. A light, so bright it was blinding.”
“Did you see it?” questioned Erestor. When Elrond did not answer, he gripped the herald’s collar and pulled him closer. “Elrond, did you see it? Did you see the light?”
Elrond shook his head. “No,” he answered, somewhat in shook as Erestor slowly loosened his hold and let go. “I turned away. We all did.”
In that moment, Erestor knew. He realized without a doubt what he was.
Blind.
