Everything burned as the inferno raged. Out of the heart of the flames stepped a massive figure, clouded in smoke. In his right hand, he wielded an ax with a head of fire and melting steel. His left hand held a flaming whip of many tongs.
Turgon and Ecthelion stepped back from the monster.
"We must retreat, my lord," said Ecthelion.
"And go where?" Turgon demanded. "I will hide no longer! Where was I when my father dueled the great enemy? Where was I when my brother fell before the doors of Angband, a shining light amid shadow and flame? Ever our first concern was this city, which we called the hope of the Noldor. Now that hope lies in ruin! What remains for us now, but revenge?"
Ecthelion drew his sword and held it aloft in defiance of the coming shadow. "So it shall be! What foe could stand before the might of Orchrist and Glamdring drawn together beneath the flower of Laurelin!"
"While we may not have the strength to avenge my father," cried Turgon, "naught but 20 yards stands between us and my brother's killer. Let us bring bold Fingon good tidings in the halls of Mandos!"
As the King and his captain charged the Lord of the Balrogs, the curtains closed. Everyone leapt to their feet to applaud the performers. After several minutes Ilmarë led them out of the theater and into the lobby.
"How could they," exclaimed Carmegil as they left the theater. "They cut out the duel of the pointy hat!"
Glorfindel laughed merrily. "Would they have us believe it was by the might of Orchrist and Glamdring that Gothmog was slain? Where was Gothmog's Bane?"
"And how many confirmed kills do your helmets have?" asked a man approaching them in the lobby.
"Ecthelion!" exclaimed Glorfindel, rushing to embrace him. Carmegil followed suit.
"None that I recall; I prefer more elegant techniques," said the Herald of Manwë with a smile and a wink.
"Elegant? In eagle form I saw you bite a troll," laughed Ecthelion.
"I don't recommend that - it tasted terrible," quipped Eönwë, his face contorting in disgusr.
The company filed out of the lobby and into a great courtyard of Tirion. It was late, but the streets were far from empty.
"I regret I must leave you now," said Eönwë. "Tulkas and Oromë are likely already in Ilmarin, and they will expect me to be there to brief them on the situation in Middle Earth."
"You just want an excuse to fly back instead of riding," said Carmegil.
"When have I even needed an excuse to do that?" asked the Prince of Eagles.
Eönwë kissed his wife goodnight and stepped a safe distance away from the elves. With a flash of fire his wings appeared, outstretched on either side. For a moment he seemed to crouch, as one might before a jump, then he shot a hundred yards into the air and circled once above the theater. Throwing his wings back he disappeared quickly into clouds above the city.
"What is the point of wings if he need not flap them for lift?" asked Elladan in surprise.
"They look good," chuckled Carmegil devilishly.
Glorfindel shook his head. "They help him turn."
"Mostly the second; perhaps a bit of the first," said Ilmarë. "I fear I must leave you as well, my friends. King Finarfin is expecting me."
As Ilmarë walked quickly off in the direction of Finarfin's palace, Fingon and Maglor hurried up to them, finally locating the group from where they'd been seated.
"The play was wonderous, no?" Fingon's grin spread all across his face. "The actor who plays my brother, he really captured Turgon's essence. Mighty and proud."
"You might also like his speech?" Maglor smirked with an eye roll. "'A shining light amid shadow and flame' he called you. The playwright outdid himself this time. Though I did miss the helmet kill this time around."
Ecthelion chuckled, and shook his head. He turned to the twins and Míril. "I do not believe we have been introduced. My comrades here were remiss in their duties as usual." He bowed to them. "I am Ecthelion."
They each introduced themselves to him quickly and eagerly.
Elladan hesitated, but eventually ventured a question. "How accurate was the play?"
Glorfindel and Ecthelion exchanged glances. The former shrugged and responded to them. "Accurate enough. You have seen battle. Even here in the Blessed Realm, where much is at our disposal, one cannot replicate the panic and horror of war."
"Yet the actors do an admirable job, and the speeches are well crafted." Ecthelion smirked. "And they know when to leave out the parts not worthy of song."
"Like the fact that Ecthelion killed Gothmog by impaling him with his helmet," Carmegil chipped in helpfully.
Both Glorfindel and Ecthelion stared at him in irritation. They had hoped to avoid calling it exactly as it had been.
"Oh come now, Ecthelion. These young ones deserve to know, do they not?" Carmegil snickered.
Ecthelion rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Careful, Carmegil. You may end up at the Ice Bay if you keep up."
The other saw real fear pass over Carmegil's face for a split second. There was silence before he and Ecthelion both started laughing raucously. Fingon and Maglor shook their heads.
"Fortunately that is not something we need to worry about," Fingon smiled. He turned to the twins and Míril. "Before you ask, the Ice Bay is in the far north, at the edge of the Helcaraxë. Eonwë keeps a guard post up there."
"Eonwë keeps a guard post up there, yes," Glorfindel nodded. "A guard post filled with those who have spoken… let's say… with open disdain for certain things Eonwë holds close."
"Anyone who annoys him, really," Carmegil clarified cheekily.
Míril laughed and turned to the twins. "I bet Aragorn wishes he had somewhere like that to send the unruly soldiers."
"Fëalas and Círeth have their own places to send their rangers," Elladan reminded her. "Círeth particularly enjoys sending those who disrespect her womanhood to the farthest reaches of Gondor."
The whole company laughed at that. Soon enough, Miril and the twins found themselves yawning in exhaustion. Several nights had passed since their last good sleep.
"We will bid you goodnight and goodbye for now," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I trust that Maglor and Fingon can escort you home?"
"We could find our way on our own," Míril protested.
Fingon chuckled. "There is no need. For I believe, if we want to follow… the plan?" He looked over at Maglor in question.
"Indeed." Maglor nodded. "If you don't mind staying up another few hours? There are two who wish to see you back on Tol Eressëa. And as we must return there anyways?"
"Of course," Elrohir instantly nodded to him. "We trust your judgement."
"Speak for yourself, my love," Míril whispered with a smirk.
"I do believe we were just insulted," Fingon muttered, raising an eyebrow. "She just insulted the once High King of the Noldor, and his friend."
Maglor glared at Fingon good-naturedly. "Did you just insult me?"
As they bickered, the twins and Míril bid Glorfindel, Carmegil, and Ecthelion goodnight. The three warriors of Eonwë's Eagle Guard walked into the night, exchanging pleasant conversation.