(PTII)Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 4)

Chapter 29: Aftermath

He soon found himself outside the mountain, on the desolate battlefield that was just beginning to be illuminated with the gloomy vermilion light of a red dawn. This is what it has come to, he thought with the heavy weight of sorrow in his heart. That so many should die for a thing so small. The sun may rise, but the light of hope has forever set behind the mountains of Shadow. Like the last of royal blood, its like shall never return to this world. This world that has been consumed by hate and destruction. Is there a place for hope in a world so dark? Is there a future for a place so cold?

He came to a small hillock that overlooked the gate. Far in the distance, he could see the Misty Mountains, and he felt a longing for home. A longing to leave this place of suffering, where only the dead lingered.

He turned away, overcome with sadness, but his eyes landed upon a sight that only filled him with more sorrow.

His dark armor was stained with blood, though whether it was his or that of his enemies Glorfindel could not tell. His sword was still in his lifeless hand, and his pale jade eyes were cast skyward. At his side was Taliel, her head still resting on the other elf's shoulder. She too was blanched in death, but her eyes were closed and an expression of peace was on her face.

Glorfindel knelt beside them, head lowered in a moment of silent respect. Caledorn had been a mighty warrior and a steadfast counselor and friend. In many ways, he was the exact opposite of Glorfindel. Where Glorfindel was outspoken, he was reserved and silent. Where Glorfindel was joyful, he was often dark and spoke of doom. But despite their differences, they had been good friends, complementing each other's weaknesses and fighting with an almost unnatural synergy in battle. Glorfindel would miss him.

"Caledorn... idh di sidh, hanar nin," Glorfindel whispered, gently closing Caledorn's eyes. He quickly wiped a tear from his cheek and rose, nodding slowly in finality. This war had claimed too many... He would do everything he could to make sure it didn't claim more.

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Dol Guldur

"Fool!" Khamul hissed, landing a hard slap across Zaskia's face. "We failed because of you."

Zaskia nursed her stinging cheek, violet eyes glaring at the wraith. "We failed because of a lack of information."

"That was your responsibility, witch," Khamul replied harshly. "But you were so blinded by your desire for glory that you let our entire army fall, and now Khanar is dead as well. The master will not be pleased."

"If he's alive much longer," Zaskia muttered under her breath. This defeat had been decisive, she knew that.

"What did you say?" Khamul asked.

"Nothing at all," Zaskia replied, smiling sweetly. "But we are wasting time. We need to ready ourselves to defend against the enemy. They will surely strike now that our forces are depleted."

Khamul laughed, a wheezing, altogether miserable sound. "With what? We slew most of them. We could destroy what's left with half of Sauron's legions."

Just then a orc loped in, a folded parchment in his knotted hand.

"A message from Mordor, m'lord," he said, clumsily bowing before handing the letter to Khamul. The wraith unfolded it slowly, then hissed in anger.

"Impossible!" He grabbed the orc by the neck and threw him, screeching in rage.

Zaskia backed away, knowing better than to interrupt the wraith. The orc slowly gathered himself up and bolted out of the room, fearfully looking over his shoulder as he ran.