𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿 | LOTR & Marvel Crossover [PART 1] ✓

13 | Whatever It Takes

13 | Whatever It Takes

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Elrond Peredhel | Lord of Rivendell

Location: Illyria and Maedhros' House, Oxford, UK, Earth

Time: June 2027

Elrond had years to control his visions. But this one had come to him unexpectedly, something which only in his long life was a rare occasion.

He had been walking down the staircase when his sight stole him from reality.

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They were on a large battlefield.

The land degraded, littered with mud, dirt, and blood. Bodies were piled atop one another. Elves, dwarves, men and even hobbits. All adorned in armour and yet they laid there – unblinking.

All of the skies was drenched in red, the light coming from the fires in the distance, to what seemed to have been mountains were just flames of hot rock which spilt with lava and red alike. The clouds which hailed above were grey and black, thunder roaring about as the flashes of lightning erupted and struck the earth, sending crumbles of rock and dust to the skies.

A whistling sound hurtled through the air as an explosion erupted around him, making him stagger to the side whilst he tried to sense where he was. His sensitive ears rung in pain as the roars of balrogs and orcs echoed, mixed with cries of Sindarin, Khuzdul and Westron went around him. Orders for people to keep going, to keep fighting as they collided and clashed with the enemy.

It was a bloodbath.

Elves he recognized from his time began to appear in his periphery.

Gil-Galad had been the first he noticed. His spear pierced an orc's gut as he dodged another blow of a hammer.

Beside him to his shock was Celebrían. He knew from the silver hair, the armour of the Galadhrim adorning her – matched with her elven sword.

With them was Celebrimbor: his back protected by a dwarf out of all the ideas he assumed. A familiar-looking dwarf with a bow strapped on his back, matching the red-haired elleth just a few feet away from them, her daggers clenched in her hands whilst they tackled a werewolf who leapt at them with sharpened teeth.

He flickered across and saw a large bear charging to his left, snarling at an incoming werewolf before devouring its head.

However, what made his blood turn cold was what was in front of him.

A gigantic dragon made of metal.

Iron dragons.

They were what he imagined them to be when Illyria once spoke of them as Elemmírë and of Gondolin. However, they are far different: with eyes that glowed yellow as they spewed fire onto them.

The skies filled with life as the eagles of Manwë began to encircle. The forms of the Valar beginning to appear around them as they fought within the Children of Eru. He saw Oromë with the hound: Huan. Uinen and Ossë dousing the flames with water whilst Yavanna grew trees and roots, entwining enemies from their legs. [1] [2]

Far across, he saw them. The red-haired elf in silver and black armour. The logo of a wolf and the Star of Fëanor embossed on his chest piece. His hair was short, tightly braid which clearly showed the scar down his face. Determination and fire in his eyes as he brought the glowing sword upon a circular shield causing a ripple of wind in their radius.