Silmarillion One-Shots

The Fall Of The High King

A/N: I have decided to update this because it gets the most attention. So please tell me how I did!!!!! PLEASE!!!

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Summary: My retelling of Fingon's battle with Gothmog!

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The Fall Of The High King

"And Fingon now stood alone with his guard dead about him." The Silmarillion by J. R. R. Tolkien.

The High King breathed slowly and the hot sun burned into his blood soaked armor, his world turning into a blurry haze. Was this what the Rebellion of the Noldor had caused? The ground around him was charred like a black crust from the flames of Morgoth and his blue and silver banner lay on the floor, loosely held by its dead barer lying broken in the dust. Around him blood soaked the charred ground and the smell was foul, the heat condensing it out of the floor and mixing with the east wind. The High King sucked in a deep breath that was full of emotion and turmoil as he pushed himself off the floor. This was what he had brought upon himself when he had left Valinor. This was what the Doom of Mandos was. The Noldor were bound to fall and never come back.

Once he got himself shakily to his feet he looked around again, his silver eyes bleary and weak. His body trembled violently from the wounds he had sustained and he fell back onto his knees, blood splashing everywhere. Suddenly through his sick turmoil a heavy stone fell in his stomach and a feeling of great foreboding overtook him. His heart clenched painfully and he nearly dry heaved. The ground vibrated and pounded and Fingon hesitantly lifted his gaze that was fixed so hard on his blood stained hands.

Low and behold flames were rising and around him became unbearably hot and sticky. This wasn't the regular flames that had separated he and his brother and led him to his doom. No this was much worse.

The pounding intensified but Fingon had not the strength to leave. He just sat there in the middle of his dead guard, on his knees as he tried to get a hold of himself. He looked up again, a strand of black lank hair drooping into his red face. He pushed it out of the way and a shuddering breath was torn from his pale chapped lips. A Balrog Of Morgoth was coming towards him with whips of giant Flames and a large axe. The enemy had finally found him. The enemy finally had gotten what they most desired. His head. The head they had placed such a price on in all his long years.

He had failed his father, he had failed his friends. He failed Maedhros and all his people and now he would die. His father had entrusted him with his kingdom and now it would fall. Some High King he was. Soon :through his haze of emotion, the Balrog was upon him, and who else would it be but Gothmog, Lord of Balrog's? He was the Morgoth's greatest captain and would no doubt be rewarded greatly for the killing of Fingon the Valiant. The High King determinedly placed both ruff hands, red with blood firmly on the floor and pushed himself painstakingly up to his feet. Tears glistened in his eyes. Tears of rage and doubt.

"And who is this but the puny High King of the Noldor? There's a pretty price set on your noble head, rat!" The Balrog roared and cracked his whip, sparks and flames spewing forth. Fingon flinched unconsciously and the Balrog laughed. "The worthless runt! Well you shall soon know the anguish of your father, the anguish of Feanor! You shall die!" Gothmog charged at him. Why should be prolong his death? He had failed anyways. What had he to live for?

Suddenly something dangerous sparked in the Kings eyes and he narrowed them dangerously. He still had his brother. His one true friend. He may be worthless and a failure and a elf who was never fit to be king, but he was a Noldor. He would not go down with out a fight!

Fingon's eyes widened in shock as the Balrog came closer and he leaped clumsily out of the way, legs tangling in a jumble and he fell back on his face with a grunt. Beneath him was the silver blue banners of his house, lying there forsaken on the ground. It was left to ruin just as he would be. Who would come for him when he died? Who would care? The dark haired elf tried very hard to move but his body ached with a fiery rage that could not be quenched and he lay there in pain. Gothmog smiled and advanced again.

The son of Fingolfin, realizing his parol, grudgingly suffered to his feet once more and with high resolve he gripped the metal bar of of flag. The banner that had come all the way from Valinor and survived every war. The sign of his father. Face morphing into a snarl, held it up high in defiance and it fluttered violently in the hot wind. The silver-blue flag of Fingolfin glimmered like starlight beneath the fire of Morgoth as a sign to all. A sign of hope.

"The House of Fingolfin has not ended! There is still hope! And I will die protecting it!" Then as he leaned heavily on his banner with great exertion, he drew forth his sword and yelled in defiance. Suddenly he coughed in the middle of his valor and blood dripped in crimson rivulets from his mouth. His mind now barely registered that it dripped all the way down to his neck and stained his cloths. Yes he would die. But he would die knowing he would stand before the Valar and Mandos faultless, knowing he did all he could to save his kingdom. He would stand before Mandos and Manwë proud of his accomplishments. And hopefully they would forgive him.

The Balrog smiled smugly at his obvious weakness and snapped his whip again.

"Utúlië n' aurë!" Fingon yelled in savage defiance once again , trying desperately to keep his moral up and his sword met the Balrog's axe with a earth shattering clang. It was so loud that the hosts of Turgon may have heard it. Terror was in the sound of their clashing and Fingon cried again and again the battle cry as he fought fiercely with the fiery giant. The High King gasped with pain when he was smashed to the side by the Balrog's fist and he stumbled slowly back to his feet.

"Utúlië n' aurë!" He said again, his voice coming out in a rasp of pain, blood leaking from his mouth. And he ran. Defiance filled his weak eyes, but he would not fall so easily. He would fight for the freedom of middle earth if only to see it continue in peace. He would fight for his father. His feet stumbled slightly on the way and lunged at the beast, sword landing solidly into his leg. Gothmog let forth a cry of anguish and his stumbled backwards with pain.

Fingon was filled a small sense of hope, blood pounding loudly in his ears and let forth a small bloody smile. But it was also cold, promising nothing but death to his quarry. He strode dangerously up to the Balrog with his sword held aloft, glittering in the brilliant light and he prepared to strike him down.

"Day will come again!" He growled loudly, his voice still worryingly raspy but it held the most conviction and danger that Gothmog was taken aback. He might have even feared him. It was a battle cry that would one day bring about the end of Morgoth, even if he did not yet know it. And Fingon stabbed the Balrog again in the side and twisted the blade savagely. The demon of fire cried again in pain but his eyes looked now above Fingon's head. "My people will see the dawn of a new day." He yelled.

The demon smiled and once again the king was filled once mote with a great foreboding.

Fingon panted heavily and spared Gothmog an odd look, eyes threatening to close from weakness. But before the High King could do much a sharp piercing white fire laced through his back and through his shining armor and he fell in pain to his knees. Just then the light shone brightly on the scene and Fingon saw his own blood shimmering on his dank metal. He was gone. His life was slipping quickly away and his mind became hazy and blind. But then Gothmog shied slightly away for a great piercing light erupted from Fingon's shining helm and it burned them.

"There will be no dawn for you!" Gothmog suddenly laughed and Fingon knew no more. His spirit headed quickly for the Great Halls of Awaiting, to meet his judgment. When the other Balrog, who had come to Gothmog's aid saw the limp body of the king he smiled cruelly and with one great swing, smashed his massive black mace into the kings body. This was a sign of disdain and hate for the Noldor. They would now see their Great King die! They would see his banners mixed with the mire of his silvery red blood. And they would know that Morgoth ruled all.

Gothmog took up his mace and did the same, smashing Fingon's body into the same earth he fought so hard to protect and staining the pure blue and silver Banner of the great house of Fingolfin red with the kings own blood. If the enemy had their way, their would be no dawn for the Noldor. And in the end, even earth betrayed them.

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A/N: So what did ya think? Please give me feedback of you still like my stories!!