Rise of Angmar: 12. The Damned Elves

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12. The Damned Elves

The world had stopped spinning, which was good. Unfortunately, it was the world that had been spinning, not the Everlasting Dark, which meant that he was both alive, and back in the world. And, he assumed, with that homicidal maniac who had promised that - should the two ever be granted bodies again - he would personally send him back to the Halls as quickly as possible. Therefore, it was necessary to enact precisely that situation upon the other as quickly as possible.
The High King of the Noldor leapt to his feet and looked around for something with which to deal a death-blow to the other wretch.
He was standing near a fast-flowing river on a very rocky bank. Rocky bank…rocks. Excellent.
Just as the other was stirring, the High King seized a rock and hurled it at him. 
With a curse, the dark elf spun to the side and jumped to his feet.
"Treacherous as always, eh, Noldo?" he sneered, lunging at the High King.
"You should be pleased," the High King said, kicking the dark elf in the chest. "I took your words to heart. You said you would kill me when we got out, and so I seek to avoid that situation with your own death."
"Kinslayer!" the dark elf gasped, grimacing in pain.
"Ah, but I am not a traitor," the High King said with a vicious smile. "You are reckoned as the worst of all elfkind."
"You and your damn oath brought me to this!" the dark elf snarled, lunging once more for the High King.
They grappled for a moment, before the dark elf slipped on the slippery rocks, and the High King hurled him into the river.
"I see that I stand on the bank with the mountain!" he called to the floundering elf. "It seems you must survive on the other shore! I hope it is a fiend indeed that dwells there and that he takes great pleasure in rending your flesh from your bones!"
The dark elf was too preoccupied with avoiding drowning or being swept downstream to come up with a suitable retort, but when he finally hauled himself onto the opposite shore, he glared bitterly at the High King.
"Stay out of the cave!" he warned mockingly. "It would be a terrible shame if you encountered some great evil! Ah, to be slain again! By what this time? Another balrog, or perhaps Melkor himself!"
The High King laughed. "I am no fool!" he snarled. "Why test the truth of Namo's words when I can simply avoid the cave? Unlike you, the demon on this shore does not dwell on the surface!"
"How can you be so sure?" the dark elf asked, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps Namo lied!"
"For what purpose? He is as weak and compassionate as all the others, though I doubt you could test the merit of his words, dark elf!"
A chill descended on both elves, silencing their words. The High King grinned when he saw that the bitter cold emanated from the dark elf's side of the river. 
"It seems your demon approaches," he said, sitting himself down on a tree stump to watch the torment or devouring of the dark elf.
A man who could have been an elf or slender human, walked toward the river, anger flashing in his dark eyes. 
"So," he hissed, "Namo played into my hands, but not so much that I can have my revenge."
The High King's blood ran cold.
"Worthless," Melkor snarled, striking the dark elf and sending him to the ground. "He sends Maeglin, the traitor of Gondolin, as well. But he redeems himself in that he has sent you, Feanor, into my hands."
"Ah, but I am on the other side of the river," Feanor pointed out, standing up and trying to appear as brave as he wished he felt.
"And who says I cannot cross the river?" Melkor asked, taking a step forward toward the rushing water.
"Evil finds it difficult to cross moving water," Feanor said resolutely. "You cannot cross the river, and I shall not cross it of my own free will."
"I am not the only power in these lands," Melkor said. He looked with distaste at the cowering Maeglin. "I think the other power may be willing to accept a trade."
"It dwells in the darkness of the cave, and I shall not go there!" Feanor exclaimed. "You shall never have me!"
Melkor raised his eyebrow and kicked Maeglin in the ribs. "Get up," he snarled. "We have work to do."


This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Barazinbar

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - The Kings

Genre: General

Rating: General

Last Updated: 09/24/11

Original Post: 07/08/11

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