Battles... a writing contest!

[Nóm]

I thought it could be fun to write about battles that never were, or were but weren't described.

So to start off... submit a description of a battle between Feanor and Fingolfin. Then a winner will be picked. The winner will then give another battle to write about.

Battles Index:

Celebthol's Feanor vs Fingolfin (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=376575&postcount=2)

Helcaraxe's Fingolfin vs Morgoth (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=380335&postcount=3)

Eledhwen's Beren vs Turin (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=391115&postcount=8)

BlackCaptain's Beren vs Turn (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=391130&postcount=10)

Helcaraxe's Beren vs Turin (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=391413&postcount=11)

Melian The Maya's Eonwe vs Sauron (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=410302&postcount=32)

Snaga's Eonwe vs Sauron (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/showpost.php?p=412818&postcount=39)

[Celebthôl]

Fëanor came running up the stairs of Tirion into the great hall, where in the middle stood Fingolfin shining like a star with Ringil in his hand. The air grew tense and all the onlookers fled as the great light of wrath filled the hall so that all those throught Aman gazed upon it in wonder of the spectacle.
Fëanor drew his sword and charged af Fingolfin. Fingolfin with his jeweled shield deflected Fëanors blow and sent him sprauling against one of the mighty pillars that supported the great roof of marble.
Fëanor sprang away to dodge Fingolfins blow, Ringil shaved of the side of the pillar creating a plume of sparks that danced everywhere. Fingolfin recoiled and turned back to face Fëanor and took up a stance ready for the next onslaught.
There was a mass of Elves, Maia and Valar at the door and on the balconies, Manwë turned his back and strode off to the shores in sadness and to seek the council or Eru.
Meanwhile the onlookers saw the two greatest among them swap blows over and over neither gaining the advantage.
Finally Fëanor in his wrath made a final strike which glanced off the jeweled shield of Fingolfin Fëanors sword was notched and cracked. Seeing his chance Fingolfin spun round and slid his sword through Fëanors and it fell to pieces, Ringil still glittered with white fire and the wrath of Fingolfin.
Fingolfin pointed it at the throat of Fëanor.
"Now!" He exclaimed, "enough of this, i will not spill the blood of my brother in any place ever, let alone upon Tirion in Aman!"
At that moment Manwë came back in after the council with Eru.
He looked long at the two brothers and finally said "I judge that Fingolfin be the more just, Fëanor is not to be high king of the Noldor! That shall pass to Fingolfin and his line! I have spoken"

The end. Its lame i know who cares? You do better!

[Helcaraxë]

Speaking of Fingolfin, here's the battle where he cuts of poor Melkor's toeses!:(

Smoke and foul fumes drifted from the great peaks of Thangorodrim. At the foot of the great towers, the gates of Angband lay, massive and imposing, a doorway into a void. Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, stood, proud and full in his splendour. "Let them come!" he muttered. He raised his great horn to his lips and blew one resounding note, defying the Enemy. Then, riding up to the very threshold of Angband, smote the gates with all his might, and they trembled. Then, raising his voice to a mighty shout, he cried, "Hail Morgoth, Dark Enemy of the Valar! Know that I am Fingolfin, mightiest of the Noldor in Middle-Earth, and I am the herald of your doom! You lurk within your fastness, for you alone of the Valar know fear! You are craven, Lord of Slaves! Come, let battle be joined between us!" Silence. Then, at long last, the great, black gates swung ponderously open, though what hand could move such a mighty edifice, Fingolfin could only guess.
It seemed as though a heavy, dark cloud passed out of the blackness within the Hells of Iron, obscuring fiery Arien and her golden vessel. Fingolfin could sense a dark evil emanating from behind those hateful gates.
After what seemed like ages, a tall, robed figure strode imperiously from withing the blackness. He spoke thus, "Know, Fingolfin, that Melkor, the Lord of the Earth, has deigned to answer your call. He wishes you to know that you have been deceived. You are but slaves to the whims of the Valar. My master can give you freedom. Do you desire lordship? Wealth beyond anything that you could possibly imagine? Whatever you wish can be yours. The Great One asks only your humble servitude..." He never finished. "LIES!!" Roared Fingolfin. "Your Master offers me lies, and nothing more! Nothing more! You shall die for this, fool!" The High King raised his clenched fist, and quicker than the eye a score of archers let fly. The robed man crumpled.
It seemed to Fingolfin that deep within the impentrable darkness of Angband, he heared faint laughter. As it grew louder, there could be no doubt. It was mirthless and terrible. The laughter seemed to pierce Fingolfin to his very soul, reverberating in his mind like a thousand despairing horns blowing an evil summons.
It seemed as though the rocks themselves trembled, and from the lifeless depths of Angband emerged a figure, far taller and more terrible than the first. As the rapidly fading sunlight glinted of polished black steel, Fingolfin knew that the Great Enemy himself stood before him. Morgoth was supremely regal, his lofty brow seemed to brush the very top of Angband's gates, though they were higher than any threshold in Middle-Earth.
"So, Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor. It seems we are to battle one last time. How noble of you." The voice was deep and booming, and faintly mocking. "Stay your tongue, Serpent!" Fingolfin retorted. "I shall hear no more lies from you. Your madness, and your life, end here!" Two gleaming eyes, like gateways into fire, bored into him. "So shall it be. You shall fall before me!"
Grond, the hammer of the underworld, swung in a deadly arc. At the last moment, Finglofin leaped aside. Grond shattered the rock where a moment ago his feet had stood, and left in its wake a fiery hole in the earth. Morgoth was thrown off balance, and swiftly Fingolfin charged, swinging mighty Ringil like the very sword of Manwe himself. The blade smote Melkor in his side, and he cried out with anguish. At this the Orcs that now crowded the space before Angband's gates howled with fear. Once again Grond stuck the ground and rent a great pit in it. This time Fingolfin rolled back behind his foe and struck at his back. Again he was rewarded with a cry. Seven times the High King of the Noldor smote the Dark Enemy of the Valar with Ringil, and each time Morgoth cried aloud with the pain of the searing blade of Aman. But at last Fingolfin grew weary. Siezing this chance, Melkor struck Fingolfin with his shield and bore down upon him. Fingolfin fell to the ground under the force of Morgoth's onslaught. Grond fell once more, and Fingolfin raised his shield and met the blow. The shield broke asunder, but the High King, calling upon the last reserves of his failing strength, stood once more. Twice more Grond's savage blows bore Fingolfin to the ground, and twice again he rose to his feet, battered and bloody. But all about his feet the earth was rent and pitted, and fire belched from the great holes left by the Hammer of the Underworld.
At long last the High King's strength failed him. He stumbled, and fell before his Enemy's feet.
Melkor laughed once more. "So, Elf, you have proven yourself a worthy foe. But I am Melkor, He Who Arises in Might, Lord of Middle-Earth and Beleriand, and none can stand before me and yet prevail!" Morgoth placed his armored left foot upon Fingolfin's neck, and it seemed as though a mountain was pressing down upon him. But the fire of Aman was still faintly burning in the King's eyes. Roaring one last cry of defiance, he smote Morgoth's foot with the shards of Ringil. Black blood gushed from the wound, and Melkor screamed and fell back.
But Fingolfin's wounds were mortal, and as his mighty cry of victory faded, he departed Middle-Earth and flew over the Great Seas to the Halls of Mandos.
All was silent. Elves, and Orcs both stood dumbfounded. Then at last Morgoth gave a scream of rage and grasped Fingolfin's body and broke it across his mighty knee. "You shall feed my wolves, fool!" But as he prepared to carry the High King's body deep into Angband where it would be defiled, a great wind rose. Throndor, Kind of Eagles, swooped down like an avenging Vala. His wings were like the breath of Manwe Sulimo, and he smote Morgoth's helm with his great talons. The black steel shattered, and Thorondor's razor-sharp claws rent Melkor's face, marring it. The great Eagle grasped hold of Finolfin's body, and, screeching his fury into Morgoth's face, bore him away swiftly to his Eyries in the Crissaegrim. Thus fell Fingolfin, mighitest and proudest of the Noldor in Middle-Earth. Orcs never boasted of that mighty duel before the Gates of the Hells of Iron, nor do the High King's kin sing his praises, for their sorrow is great. But it will never be forgotten how Fingolfin, riding like Orome to the gates of Angband, roared his last defiance into the very face of the Dark Enemy of the Valar Himself.

FIN

Hoped you liked it. Not very good, but heck it's a Friday Night.

--MB

[Helcaraxë]

Originally posted by Nóm

So to start off... submit a description of a battle between Feanor and Fingolfin. Then a winner will be picked. The winner will then give another battle to write about.

(hope someone joins!:eek: )

D'OH!!!:eek: :eek: Didn't see that last part. Wow, I'm an idiot. I spent an hour writing that battle-scene...all for naught I suppose. *rams head into wall a few times*
Ahh, well.

--MB

[Nóm]

Wow... they are both good. Thank you, they were enjoyed!

Better than I expected in truth. MB, I was especially impresssed with a lot of your dialog. But I'll have to declare Celebthol the winner of the round since he did write the battle I asked for. So now, Celebthol, it is your turn to name a battle for us to write. :D

Hopefully we'll see more contributions this time. :confused:

[Helcaraxë]

Originally posted by Nóm
Wow... they are both good. Thank you, they were enjoyed!

Better than I expected in truth. MB, I was especially impresssed with a lot of your dialog. But I'll have to declare Celebthol the winner of the round since he did write the battle I asked for. So now, Celebthol, it is your turn to name a battle for us to write. :D

Hopefully we'll see more contributions this time. :confused:

Well, ::Blushes:: thank you. Only fair that Thol should write the next one I suppose. I am SOOOOO stupid!:D :eek: :rolleyes:

MB

[Celebthôl]

WOOHOO!!! :D

I want the battle between Beren and Túrin please. :)

[Eledhwen]

Beren stared into Turin's eyes as Nienor handed him a silver chalice filled with a dark brown brew, though none could tell its hue through the frothy overflow that stained her trembling hands. Without taking his eyes off Beren, Turin supped from the chalice and set it aside. He stretched out his hand to Mim, who passed to Turin three small flighted arrows, heavy and thick in girth, but no bow. Turin turned from Beren and stared instead at a roundel set upon a wide tree. Very many elves and men stood around, wondering what the outcome of this battle would be. Turin took his aim without the aid of a bow and lo, one after another the arrows arc'd across the void and sank into the roundel, all three in one small section. Turin grinned wide as Thingol strode across to a panel, its frame etched with runes and its surface flat and dark, upon which was written twice: "501". He struck out the first and replaced it with 320 saying aloud as he did so "One Hundred and Eighty!"

A loud cheer and applause rose from all the household of Hurin and from some of the elves of Thingol's realm, but died down as Beren took his place. He refused the chalice, brushing it away with his one hand in which he then took all three of his weapons, small and less thick, being of mithril and made by Luthien his beloved. He raised his arm, grasping all three arrows firmly, and threw them all at once. They sunk into the same small section of the roundel in which Turin's own darts had landed. Again, as the cheer rose, Thingol announced "One Hundred and Eighty!" and struck out the second 501, replacing it with 321.

Turin looked at the roundel in wonder as Mim stretched out his hand to him with the darts for his second shot, but instead Turin turned and bowed before Beren. "Thou art well skilled, Beren one-hand, and I yield. The beers are on me." Beren nodded graciously as the crowd cheered loudly and turned towards Turin's abode to drink his cellar dry. "Tenpin bowling next week?" asked Turin hopefully.

[Celebthôl]

Hahah! *claps* I love it! :D *claps again* :D

[BlackCaptain]

The great men among men stood at a dead heat upon Amon Rudh. Whilst the inferno of the Worms of Morgoth and the foul bark of Carcharoth rush in a hurricane at the great hill's base. From Mount Taras behind Vanyimar in Nevrast Tuor saw off in the distance of the night but a spark of red among the black abyss surounding. What meeting of flame and death could cause such radiance? For even Manwë upon Talinquentil could see the sweat and blood of the Men as they were now at a test of will staring deep into one another's eyes.

Luthien and Nienor were both held by captive by Beren and Turin in the caves of Amon Rudh, however the pairing was Turin to Luthien and Beren to Nienor. A grudgery ended in both warriors taking that which is dearest to the other. The battle between the two men had somehow found it's way from the inner most caves of Bar-en-Danwedh where the two were captive, up to the red hill-top covered in seregon of Amon Rudh.

Turin unslinged his bow and sent forth a volley of black arrows with both the speed and precision of the greatest of Elven Archers. Who now knows if Beleg could have bested him in an accuracy contest? But Beren, ever at ease in body and mind deflected the shots as if they were stones. Surely this was the incarnation of great Ainu warriors come to a summit and climax of a great rivalry? Manwë now pondered if even the battle between Morgoth and himself would be one of such malice...

The two engaged in a duel of swordsmanship now... The wreckless hate of Turin drove Beren back to the end of the hill's top. Beren sidestepped every fatal blow from Gurthang. Beren was now showing signs of weariness after hours of the ruthless onslaught of Turin. Not once did Turin show signs of weariness, for such was his hate that it feuled him endlessly.

The flame had now reached the summit of Amon Rudh. The bark of the Red Maw had now become nearly imbearable. At last Turin's blows from Gurthang broke Beren's sword into 3 pieces: hilt and two new blades. With a the cry of a madman and eyes turned from Black to Red, Turin went for the final blow. Alas! with one last efford Beren kicked at the feet of Turin and sent him flying through the flame of Amon Rudh, and as a meteor from the heavens Turin went to his death among the dragons of Angband and the poisoned bite of Carcharoth. Even Manwë upon Talinquentil percieved now in the morning light of Arien that Turin's flame seemed to grow as he fell... The Black that had consumed Turin all his life had finaly given way and the shell was burst, and the flame of Turin's heart was exposed and proven stronger than even that of the Dragons of Morgoth. For even those dragons that Turin's flaming corpse fell upon were burnt, and Glaurung was made blind when Turin fell upon his ever-watchfull eyes.

Beren sat now at the peak of the inferno and the sweat pouring from his face was enough to fill the bowls of two Ents of Dorthonion. The fair red seregon flower now choked on the smoke of Angband and whithered and died. Beren cried then in grievance of the fair plant's passing. When he closed his eyes in surrender to the flame, Eagles of Manwë came upon the golden air of Dawn and bore him to the high peaks above Gondolin, Crissaegrim.

When Beren awake he looked down into the great white city and tear came to his eyes from the great sight. His arm was in a sling, broken from the final blow of Turin, Flame-Heart. He had numerous flesh wounds which were healed by the best elven alchemists of Gondolin. Beren now held converse with Thorondor for a short time. When he learned of the destruction of Amon Rudh (For it was now but a hill of ash and dust), he immediately questioned about his wife, Luthien.
"It grieves me that something so fair should be engulfed in such ruthless hate and flame" said the old Eagle, captain of Manwë's heavenly fleet
With that Beren let out a cry and cast himself from Crissaegrim. He fell then to the green fields encircling Gondolin. The gaurds of the city came to the place of Beren's death, and found naught but a broken, torn, and defeated dirty body of a Man. Upon seeing his face, all the elves broke out in tears, for Beren's face was that of 1,000 tales of Sorrow, and it would be utterly impossible for even Melkor to not be filled with emotion, be it dark and twisted.

Even Manwë now, upon the great mount of Talinquentil in the sky gave forth tear. And with those tears he came to the mound where the Trees of the Valar had failed; and crying he let his tears fall to the ground. And Melkor, percieving this, laughed in the deepest halls of Angband.

But the Trees then sprouted up again and the evil laugh turned into a dead silence. All of Angband was now deadly still, and Melkor was filled with so great a fear that he cowered at the new light from the West.

None of the elves of Arda could have percieved the fate of Men having the longest and lasting effect upon the fate of Arda. And it is said by the few bravest and stout of heart that dare cross by Amon Dagor (Amon Rudh was renamed in the songs of Elves), that among the ash and death of the small hill, there lie the dead body of a Nightengale so white that they are nearly blinded by the beauty. And from under this fair bird of Heaven there sprouts a small stream that grows until it comes to Sirion. Some of these bold adventurers say it is the sweat of Turin and Beren... but the wise among the bold claim it is the last tears of Nienor. Perhaps it is both? For the river was named by the Elves, Nallasir, or Flowing cry.

There-in lies the tale of Beren and Turin, so great men that in them lies a great hope in Arda's fate, for prior to the great battle Manwë had not once set forth tear in all of Arda. And so great was the battle of Beren and Turin, that in causing Manwë to give tear, all of the white host of Valamar was filled with grievance. So is it that the death of but two men could cause thousands, if not millioins of Elves sorrow? If it weren't for the sprouting of the trees, that majority of those Elves would have slain themselves from the horrible sight of Manwë's blue tears.

Such is the power of two great men, to send all of Arda into a state of sorrow and grievance, yet at the same time kindel hope for the destruction of all that is truely evil.

[Helcaraxë]

The sun stained the sky a pale crimson with its last fading rays. The trees of Doriath stood dark and tall, their shadows long in the waning light. Beren stood waiting, at ease, Luthien beside him. He was beginning to wonder whether Turambar would come at all. He grimaced and glanced at the vast wooded expanse of Doriath to the west, over a tall, steep precipice. At the cliff’s foot was a pool wide and deep.
He turned back to the east as he heard hooves beat against the hard earth. One of his errand riders reined in beside him.
“My Lord, Turin son of Hurin approaches.”
“At long last he hath come. Now we shall have a reckoning.” He said grimly.
Out of the deepening shadows emerged several grey-clad men. They were led by a tall man with a regal bearing. As he approached Beren knew him: Turin Turambar Hurin’s son, slayer of Glaurung, the Mormegil, Black Blade of the Northlands. His dark shoulder-length hair rimmed his face in shadow. Turin stopped a few paces from Beren and waited expectantly. Seeing that he showed no intention of speaking, Beren called loudly, “Turin Turamabar, you have come hither, to the borders of the realm of Elu Thingol, Lord of Doriath to meet me in battle. No avail shall you have from your brethren, nor me from mine. So shall our reckoning begin.”
Turambar said nothing, but his eyes smoldered. He turned to one of his men, who presented to him Gurthang, in its scabbard. As he drew it the red sunlight glinted off the midnight steel. Luthien handed to Beren his blade, which he drew also. Then the companions of both Beren and Turin backed away.
Beren locked his feet into a defensive stance as Turin approached. Then without warning Turambar hurled Gurthang. It flew in a tight arc toward Beren. Surprised, he flung himself to the ground, dropping his blade. Gurthang hissed as it sliced the air and buried itself just beyond where his head lay. Turin cursed and charged Beren, his fists raised. Beren tried to scramble to his feet but Turin was upon him. Turambar bowled him over and reached for Gurthang.
Grabbing Turin’s arm, Beren flung him into the air. He sailed over where Gurthang lay half-buried in the ground. Turambar hit the unyielding earth with an audible thud, and blood dripped from a slash across his face. Beren snatched up his sword and advanced., while Turin leaped lightly to his feet and, grabbing his cruel black blade, ripped it from the ground. Beren leveled his sword and sprang into a run at Turin. Beren thrust swiftly, but Turin brought Gurthang around in a mighty swing, not at Beren but at his blade. The black steel struck the side of Beren’s sword, and it leaped out of Beren's grasp, clattering onto the stone a three paces from him. Thrown off his balance, Beren slipped and fell.
Triumphant, Turambar stood and raised Gurthang. He backed away for a final swing to finish Beren…and his foot stepped into nothingness. Gurthang hurtled into the clear pool below as Turin tumbled from the cliff top. Beren leaped up and ran to the brink. Turambar was hanging by one blood-stained hand, and below him was an abyss of shadow. Without knowing why, Beren planted his feet and reached for Turin’s arm, and grasped his free hand.
“Beren, though fool!” growled Turin. “Thou hast slain us both!”
He spoke true, for a great mass of rock crumbled and broke off from the cliff face. Perhaps Gurthang sought vengeance for its old master Beleg, whom Turin slew, for when it pierced the earth it made a great rent deep in the rock, and the stone now cracked under the two great men’s weight. It plunged into the shadows under the cliff, down, down, down into the pool below, the two men atop it.
Long it was though that they departed into Mandos, and came not to Beleriand again, and there was much grief. But the Doomsman of the Valar had not yet summoned them to his dark halls, though whither they went ere Beren returned to Menegroth and Turin to Nargothrond this tale does not tell.

Fin

EDIT: I just saw BC's story, so I didn't steal his Beren and Turing falling idea. :)

~MB

[celebdraug]

these are really good!

Now: who is the judge? You?

[Helcaraxë]

these are really good!

Now: who is the judge? You?


That depends who you mean by "you." :D Nom's the Judge.

[celebdraug]

That depends who you mean by "you." :D Nom's the Judge.
Yea, i did mean Nom! Man, these are all good she is probably going to have trouble judging... *ouch*

[BlackCaptain]

Actualy I think Thol might be the judge, but I'm not sure... The winner of each round is the judge of the next (If we follow the influence of just about every other game in here:D) I could be mistaken though.

And if, that is IF I win, I won't be able to post a new topic until Friday, just so eveyrone is informed :)

[Helcaraxë]

Actualy I think Thol might be the judge, but I'm not sure... The winner of each round is the judge of the next (If we follow the influence of just about every other game in here:D) I could be mistaken though.

And if, that is IF I win, I won't be able to post a new topic until Friday, just so eveyrone is informed :)


I don't think that makes any sense...How could the judge be unbiased if they were one of the participants? :confused:

MB

[Nóm]

Sorry, I did not make things clear with the judging. I had been thinking that whoever gives the topic will pick the winner. I would say Thol should be the judge in this round, and perhaps get the opinions of a couple other people if he can not pick one. It should also be up to him to decide when it is time to judge.

I will take part in the next round... I just couldn't bring myself to write an encounter between Turin and Beren since Beren never spoke with a mortal after he returned. But no matter what the next topic is I'll go for it.

[BlackCaptain]

I don't think that makes any sense...How could the judge be unbiased if they were one of the participants? :confused:

MBBecause Thol, having won the last round, can't participate in the next round if he were the judge... Why would Thol write about a topic that he gave us? Sure it might be easy for him cuz he's a cheater and had writen a story of the battle between Beren and Turin a real long time ago and just wanted to utterly destroy us now... and I don't doubt it (:D) but the winner of one round is the judge of the next... like in Guess the Pic or the Caption Contest.

[Helcaraxë]

No! Must ressurect this thread!!

Since no-one has posted in some time, would whoever is the judge please choose the winner? :)

~H-ë

[BlackCaptain]

Celebthol's the judge... I'll let him know next time he gets on Instant Messenger

[Helcaraxë]

Um..Thol, I hate to nag, but could you please judge? This thread is dying....

~Helcaraxë

[Celebthôl]

Although Eledhwens was rather amusing! :) *claps more*
My vote goes to Halcaraxe, i liked his ending and hes very persistant ;)

Well done to ya all.

[Aulë]

Puts in nomination: Legolas and Gimli. :D
I want this to be grapic!!! ;)

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

Why dont you guys carry this over to MERPG? :confused:

[Nóm]

Whats with putting these good guys against eachother? *wags finger*

Dain... does this sort of thing go on at MERPG? I thought it was just for RPing?

Anyhow... Gimli vs. Legolas....

Gimli wandered off on his own while traveling through Mirkwood on his way to Rivendell. He reached down behind some bushes to pick up a gold necklace that someone had let fall long ago. At that moment Legolas came running through some trees and mistook his movement for some foul creature. He let fly an arrow witch bounced off Gimli's unseen helmet. Then Gimli grumbled and shot up like a dart weilding his ax. The two looked started at eachother and Legolas dropped his glance 'Confusticated elf!' grumbled Gimli and mumbled away... fighting to find his way in the dark. At that point each of the people, dwarves and elves, privately decided to beat the other to Rivendell.

Elves ran up ahead of the dwarves and mislead them this way and that. Elves laughed merrily and Dwarves shouted in frustrated anger. In this way the elves were first to reach the pass through the Misty Mountains, but the dwarves proved more enduring on the path for they knew it better and were the more determined.

Eventually the elves of Rivendell heard laughter and cursing off in the distance, and they went to the edge of the valley and found a storm coming at them! Elves and dwarves were running, obviously exhausted but unwilling to rest! In the front were Legolas and Gimli. Seeing this dash the elves of Rivendell thought there must be an army at their tail! Off messengers ran to Elrond and the elves raced to arms before they could see that all but Legolas and Gimli of the racing elves and dwarves stopped and were now cheering for their favorite. So the well armed Noldorin and Sindarin warriors came rushing out to race the enemy head on. Gimli seeing this became affraid and rushed at Erestor head on... weilding axe! Legolas understood and halted. So Gimli reached Rivendell first.


*shrugs*

[Helcaraxë]

Er...Aulë, I believe the person who won the last round (many thanks, by the way, Thol :D) is supposed to pick the topic. But seeing as Nom already wrote her story, I see no point in creating a new topic.

[Nóm]

Oops! Sorry about that. How about we leave mine just for fun or extra, and now Helcaraxe can give the topic for the next contest?

[Helcaraxë]

Well, I don't want you to have put that effort in for nothing. If you want to have that story compete in the next round, we can have that topic. If you want me to pick another topic, I will. :)

[Nóm]

I think we should ignore mine and let you give a new topic.

Not sure what Aule would think though ;)

[Helcaraxë]

If Aulë's doesn't mind, I'll pick a new topic. How about this one: Eonwe vs. Sauron! :D

[Dáin Ironfoot I]

This definitely could be done on MERPG, under the Ring of Doom or something similar- or in the Small Guilds space.

Anything to boost our activity! :D

[Melian_the_Maya]

Realms and power changes, but evil never dies, nor does it sleep and so it was that Sauron, the right hand of Morgoth, the Dark Lord, mightiest among the Ainur, saw the hosts of the Valar from his fortress. His ear caught the heartened unrest amongst the hosts as marched together with the Valar. And his eye saw the enlightened banners, which shone even through the mists and darkness of the Blackest Land in Middle Earth. And as he gazed outside, a great wrath and fear caught him and swiftly he made his way from his tower through the lamentation of the torture chambers and the silver gleam of steel being wrought into blades and shields and other foul things in the armouries and to Morgoth himself Sauron came and bowed his knee before him. For mighty did Morgoth look to Sauron and to him his alliegence lay.

The Lord of the Dark Realm was not asleep either. And from his great window, Melkor, the great Ainu, beheld Eonwe, herald of Manwe, now king amongst the Valar and his lip curled in a sneer. And to Sauron he turned and saw within him repulsion towards the light and hatred and knew that just as he, Morgoth, hated the light of Manwe, so Sauron hated the might of Eonwe and knew that they would battle until one should fall.

With a great scream outside, the gates crumbled and orcs fled from the all consuming fires, that grew from naught to roaring flames. And no orc blade nor arrow found targets and the Balrogs were fighting a hopeless fight. Sauron quailed at the sound and his armour chinked. Yet he dared not speak when his Lord, Morgoth, the accursed, gazed at him.

"All is not yet lost" spoke Morgoth and in his voice a metallic tone of wrath intertwined with his strong words. "For they have yet to see what is hidden in this realm and banished they will be in the end. But thou, Sauron, my right hand, thou must fight a perilous fight, and thy victory will make Manwe quiver and he will call back his Valar before thee."

Sauron's eyes flamed, for he was no coward and a fight won for the victorious side is always precious to the victor.

"My life and blade and power lies all at thy command, Lord Melkor!" said he and he meant it, for great was the might of Morgoth and Sauron desired to be liked and prized above all in his kingdom. And Melkor curled his lip again in a treacherous and hidden smile and the Ainu and Maia walked together under the darkness of the chamber and to the nearest window and they saw the Balrogs destroyed and some fleeing, their fire dimmed against the powers of the Valar.

"For many ages has Eonwe been the aid of the Valar" Melkor whispered, gazing not at his servant but at his enemies, for even his corrupted and darkened heart secretly desired that light, that fire, mightier than all others, the light as came from Manwe and was now wielded by his herald Eonwe. "And he now leads this host against me. He is a Maia and his powers are great, but so art thine, Sauron, my right hand, for great in battle art thou and many a battle thou hast won for me. Now comes thy challenge as does mine. While Ancalagon will fly against them and the hosts of the Valar shall retreat, thou must slay Eonwe for that will be a great sorrow for Manwe and in that our victory lies."

And a smile too curled the thin lips of the Maia and he took the shape of a mighty, tall Lord, with a great helm upon his head and armour that no mortal blade or spear could pierce and in his eyes resided the fire of Morgoth. And it is said that in that moment, even though his heart was black and burnt, with something close to love did Melkor gaze upon his dearest and deadliest servant, who readied to depart to battle for Lord and land, just as those petty mortals underneath had done.

And so Sauron marched against his rival, even as Ancalagon the Black and his hosts of winged dragons brought dismay amongst the lines which so victoriously had banished the curses of the Balrogs. And even as Eonwe called the retreat and drew back, from a mound in the dark Land a call reached him and he saw a mighty lord standing and calling to him, his blade dark as was his appearance. And he did not know Sauron for whom he was at first, for much had he changed and new powers had he from the dark Lord and now in strength Sauron almost equalled the bold herald of the Valar.

And Eonwe felt in this dark Lord not only the call of an enemy but knew that whomever he was, it was in him that Morgoth's hope lay and from the host of the Valar he turned and no dragon came upon him, for all remainders of honour and pride in Sauron kept the beasts away from his rival and enemy, the one whom he had to slay. And Manwe in Valinor only caught a glimpse of his herald crossing blades with the unknown and perilous foe and saw then how dragon fire pushed back his hosts. Yet, just as Melkor had predicted, heavy was his heart for he knew Sauron and felt his evil strength even from that afar.

Yet then Thorondor and his great birds came and the host of Valar had new heart. And as Earendil boldly slew Ancalagon in a daring charge, Eonwe readied for hard battle against this helmed opponent, in whose blade resided all the malice and power of darkness in its purest form. And then Sauron swung his blade, whose name is not known by any, for Sauron kept it for himself and never did he reveal it and it is said that he loved this blade almost as much as he later came to love the One Ring, that he forged himself. And Eonwe was startled and his mithril armour glinted too dimly against the darkness of this Maia, whose power increased as the might of Morgoth against the Valar grew and the hosts of the West were repelled. And as Men and Elves fell and the servants of dark Lord advanced upon their enemies, Sauron's blade found a place where it bit into the arm of Eonwe and the dark Maia sneered at the sight of blood and at Eonwe's wince.

And then the enemy was revealed before Eonwe and Eonwe's blade shone in its turn and battle recommenced. And blood was drawn and yet neither of the two Maiar bowed to the other. And yet the herald of Manwe gained power and the darkness in Sauron's blade faded to the light in Eonwe's, for the might of Morgoth himself faded before his enemies, as his dragons fell. And it is said that there were days while Eonwe fought and chased Sauron and they were separated from the hosts of the Valar and those of Morgoth by a short distance. And then Earendil called to Eonwe and the herald halted, a few paces away from his foe and saw that the force of the West had reached the fortress of Morgoth. And with his sword, Eonwe wounded his foe once more, right across the chest and Sauron fell, spent and defeated. And Eonwe rose above him and with his foot broke the mighty blade that Sauron had held and the realm of Morgoth quailed and Sauron gazed at Eonwe in fear, for mighty he looked now, as victor of the battle.

And Eonwe returned and crushed the very realm of Morgoth to the bitter dust and stone and in the very deepest of his mines Melkor himself was found and he sued for pardon, but none was granted and he was chained and Eonwe took the Silmarils from his crown and then he returned to where Sauron lay still, motionless, for mighty had been the blows the Eonwe upon his body and mightier still was the sorrow for the destruction of the blade of darkness. And upon him once more Eonwe stood and for Sauron he felt pity, for a worthy adversary, albeit evil, had he been. And in his hand he held the Silmarils and he showed them to the fallen Maia and Sauron quivered, for he knew that the end of Morgoth had come.

"Thy master's power is spent and from all that lives he shall be torn apart. Thou hast been his right hand and hast wilfully helped him, but for thee there can be pardon and forgiveness maybe if thou renouncest thy master and sue pardon, for honourable hast thee shown thyself and a worthy opponent. Speak now or be slain!"

And it is said that in fear Sauron repented and bowed to the power of Eonwe and the Valar and only then did Eonwe gave him his hand.

"I have no power to forgive thee" he said. "To Valinor thou must go and there Manwe, who is king of the Valar shall pass judgement upon thee. For mighty is he and pardon you he might, for I have spoken to him."

"I am no humble Elf" said Sauron, his voice yet strong "and ashamed I would be of coming to Valinor and bowing my head before the Valar in front of Mortals and of the Children of Ilúvatar! is my word and repentance not enough even in front of thee, who lead the armies of the Valar hence?" And bitter was his voice at these words, yet Eonwe, whose heart was uncorrupted and glorious, could not perceive what he meant and lenient he was to Sauron then.

"Thou must do this and there will be no shame upon thee, for thou hast fought me and my blood is mingled with thine upon this earth! The Valar shall await for thee in three days from now. Now I depart, but I shall await for thee, too."

Sauron heavily climbed the mound from where he had called Eonwe to battle and he saw the Firstborn and the Birds and the Men feasting and celebrating and their light and laughter bothered his ear, for he thought every cheer was to his humiliation and his very heart renounced the humility before these beings, whom he, the right hand of Morgoth had ruled so long. And the shards of his blackened sword he sought and into that realm he burried deep and then he fled from all sight and knowledge of the Maiar and the Valar and deeply grieved was Eonwe not to see him at the Judgement that followed.

And from a hidden tower now, Sauron gazed upon Middle Earth and his eye sought how to bring to ruin what Men and Elves had started to built under the watch of the Valar. The shards of his blade and his great helmet were hidden now and in his terrible dark form he gazed over hill and meadow. For evil never dies and never does it sleep...

[Melian_the_Maya]

Oh, goody, now we have the battle, but not the judge :rolleyes: Come on, I wanna know how badly I did!

[Helcaraxë]

I wasn't ignoring you. I was merely under the impression that I was going to wait until everyone had posted to provide comments.

I liked that very much. It was exciting, and I loved the climax. The only thing that I was a bit dubious about was that I think Eçnwe was too nice to Sauron. I mean he gave him his hand. Somehow I don't see the mighty Eonwe giving his hand to his most bitter foe, however honorable and just. But otherwise, it was very impressive.

[Melian_the_Maya]

I don't know, after all you have to think of a Maya as more than a person. I don't think they had what you would call real emotions. Those in the service of the Valar did not I think have a clear and true personality from our point of view. I don't think Eonwe was that proud... he was not humble, but nor was he proud.

[Helcaraxë]

Well, since the point is debatable I won't count it againt you when I decide the winner. But I still think that the herald of Manwë wouldn't do something like that. But otherwise its a superb battle.

Do we have any other entries?

[Melian_the_Maya]

Oh, come on, people! It doesn't take SO long to write a battle... I heard there were writers on this site too, so come on, get your keyboards ready and WRITE!

[Manveru]

there are? ;) guess they'll need a little drill... before the battle itself :p

[Snaga]

Eonwe stood upon the shores, with trumpet and a sword
"Upstart Sauron, thou shall never proclaim thyself Lord
Do battle, come draw thy blade and show thy face
Or else leave this Middle Earth in disgrace."

But Sauron smiled and hid his heart, and sly he spake
"Give me but one more chance, for dear old Erus sake
Let me heal all this fair lands hurts and wrongs
That my name not be ever accursed in songs."

And Eonwe looked kindly upon him as never before
"Yea do all that and more
And in Valinor you shall be welcomed back
And your name shall not be ever black!"

Leaving Eonwe scratching his silly head,
Sauron nodded, bowed and off he sped
"I love a fight, and I always win
As long as its a battle of wits I'm in!":D

[Helcaraxë]

Haha! :D Great, Snaga. I love how it's in poem form; very original. Let's see if anyone else posts a battle.

[Helcaraxë]

I was hoping we would have a few more entries. I'll wait a few more days, and if there are no posts I'll pick a winner.

[Melian_the_Maya]

This thread is dying out... is there nobody who wants to have a go in this contest? A few weeks ago there was still a Writers' Guild! Where are all those in there, they should be crowding to take part in this! :confused:

[Manveru]

then, maybe this thread should be moved to a respective "place" within boundaries of TTF... where writers dwell?? if they gather in just one place on the forum, make it easier for them to find threads of their interest "scattered" all around... here and there :)

(just a thought)

[Melian_the_Maya]

Only the problem is the guild seems lost... maybe they are organized somewhere else, but I can't seem to find them anywhere. And for a writer to ignore the title "a writing contest" is something extraordinary! After all, that was why I replied to this thread in the first place! :)

[Manveru]

Only the problem is the guild seems lost...
it's in the Prouncing Pony section... in here (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/forumdisplay.php?f=10)

(you're welcome...)

[Melian_the_Maya]

Thank you, manveru, that was a good move!

[Helcaraxë]

Last call for entries. I'll pick a winner very soon if no-one else enters.

[Snaga]

it's in the Prouncing Pony section... in here (http://www.thetolkienforum.com/forumdisplay.php?f=10)

(you're welcome...)Prouncing? That's a good word! I may find some uses for that!:D

[Helcaraxë]

Wow, posts are really piling up in this thread! :rolleyes:

So be it; I declare Melian the winner. Snaga's was very clever, but Melian's was more serious, which is closer what I was looking for.

I have a suggestion for a topic for the next battle (which you may choose to use or not): Manwe v. Melkor.

[Snaga]

Congratulations to Melian - a worthy winner. If my tongue-in-cheek flippancy had beaten her effort it would have been a travesty. :)

I wonder though if I was closer to Sauron's true tactics. He didn't often go up for a straight fight if he could avoid it. ;)

[Melian_the_Maya]

Thank you, Thank you! I would choose that battle, helcaraxe if I hadn't had another one in my mind for a while: I would like to see the first defeat of Sauron by Isildur and the first attempt to destroy the Ring (you may use the movie, if you like). I don't mind it if it is from Isildur's point of view or simply from the point of view of the third person.

I already announce that I will pick a winner that will have good enough details, that will maintain a reasonable amount of atmosphere (Tolkienian atmosphere obviously) and that will describe the images vividly enough to create an impression. That should be easy :D .

So for all who want to join, Isildur vs Sauron and Isildur vs The One Ring.

[Melian_the_Maya]

I understand that it may take time for some people to finish this up, but I would really like to know if anybody is actually interested. Could you please announce it if you want to take part in this? It would be easier also to make sure I close the competition in time.

[Helcaraxë]

Hmm...interesting battle!

I've been busy and unable to post on TTF for a while. I'll write a battle as soon as I have time.