A Different Kind of Hell [ Silmarillion ] 3

Chapter Ten: Of Shadow and Flame

DOR DAEDELOTH

Blood trickled down his brow, stinging his left eye a bit, and leaving an iron tang as it stained his lips. A few strands of his flaming red hair now lay plastered against his skin. Nelyo recoiled. Stinking orc breath and the stench of seared flesh filled his nostrils as he carved his way in the direction his father had gone.

He felt, rather than saw, Káno to his left. On his right he heard Tyelko barking orders to Rusco. As he cut off another grey-green skinned orc's shriek with a slam of his blade, he took a long, labored breath.

Of all he had done since landing on these cursed shores, this brought him the most solace. This felt good. This felt right.

His bronze boots kicked up more of the charred earth. If ever grass had grown in this battle plain, it had turned to ash long ago. Smoking and smoldering piles of wood and carcasses littered the area, providing some of the only light in this land where Morgoth's black heart strove even against Varda's stars far above them.

A deep pit of guilt settled into his stomach as he thought of the Valar. But as he felt a sharp dagger pierce just into his left abdomen, he turned the guilt into anger. He found the creature, small and quivering, gazing up with a fanged grin, its hand still wrapped around the tiny dagger.

Nelyo smiled. In one swift motion, he grabbed the orc by the arm with his left, twisted it still holding the dagger away from his body, and forced it to stab its own throat. For ten days, they'd done battle. For ten days they had worked for this moment. A tiny orc would not stop him from reaching his father upon the battlefield at the door of Morgoth's shadowed throne.

He turned right as the familiar voice of Moryo rose above the clamor. He sounded angry, but desperate. It took a moment to find him in the chaos.

"Moryo! Calm down," Nelyo shouted. He came to stand level with Moryo, meeting him half way between them. A burn on his left cheek made Nelyo pause. "What news from the front?"

"He has gone too far ahead. Fire and shadow are between us and him," Moryo said.

For a moment the chaos calmed. Nelyo glanced about. He noticed that the sparse fires had grown, and great swaths in the ground that still burned began to replace them. He looked back at Moryo. His brother's face, a deep shade of red from the exhaustion and heat of the Dor Daedeloth, stopped him in his tracks. Nelyo looked beyond Moryo. He looked at the flaming red light a few hundred yards away.

Nelyo turned to him. "Find the others. Gather what forces you can, and follow us." He glanced right. "Tyelko!"

The man's usually shining, fair hair had been stained dark with blood, dirt, and ash days ago. But his sharp grey eyes had hardened as well. Nelyo lifted his sword and gestured onwards.

"With me!"

Tyelko nodded. By the time Nelyo had cut his way to the front of their forces, his brother had joined him, Rusco at his right hand, and a dozen more warriors beyond.

They exchanged no words. They didn't have to. Tyelko fell into step behind him instantly. As Nelyo began to work his way through flaming rubble and smoking, shattered stone, he knew his brother was at his back.

They crested the top of a hill. Nelyo halted in his step as he looked down the steep, graveled path into the next great level plain. In the firelight he saw the bodies of his father's guard mangled and twisted in the ground. But he didn't see them.

He couldn't. He saw only Pityo. In every flame, be it dancing candle or raging conflagration, he could see and hear his brother. Nelyo couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He felt Tyelko beside him stiffen. He felt a rush of wind as a group of guards ran forward. But still he didn't move.