The loss of Gil-galad

6

The First Age of Middle-earth was drawing to a close, but not without the greatest battle yet seen upon its shores. The Elves, Men, and Dwarves of Middle-earth had fought valiantly against the enemies creatures, but one by one, their kingdoms had fallen to Morgoth's might. Now, his fortress of Angband stood defiant, a black citadel in the north, from which his evil poured forth, threatening to drown all hope.

But hope remained, for the Valar in Valinor had finally heeded the call of the Eldar. Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, led a host of Maiar, Vanyar, and the Edain to Middle-earth, and the War of Wrath began. The skies were filled with the sound of horns and the clash of swords, as the armies of the Valar clashed with the forces of Morgoth. The earth shook with the fury of their battle, mountains crumbled, and seas boiled.

Among the host of the Valar was Thariel, her heart filled with resolve to see the end of the dark reign that had brought so much suffering to her people. Thariel, bearing the grace of her Maia mother and the strength of her Elven father, had joined the fight, determined to stand against the darkness alongside the mightiest beings of Arda. She carried with her a sword forged in the light of Valinor, its blade bright and true, and over her shoulders flowed a cloak enchanted by Melian herself, shielding her from the eyes of the enemy.

The plains before Angband were a cauldron of chaos. Dragons, summoned by Morgoth, flew overhead, their fiery breath scorching the ground below. Balrogs, creatures of flame and shadow, waded through the battlefield, wielding whips of fire. The armies of the Valar met them with unwavering courage. Eagles, led by Thorondor, clashed with the dragons in the sky, while the Elves and Men fought against the orcs and balrogs on the ground.

Thariel moved through the fray, her sword a blur of light, cutting down orcs and deflecting the fiery lashes of balrogs. Her voice rose in song, a powerful melody that rallied her allies and struck fear into the hearts of Morgoth's minions. She stood side by side with the Maia, her blade a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

In the midst of the battle, Thariel found herself facing Sauron, Morgoth's lieutenant, a being of great power and malice. Sauron's eyes glowed with a sinister light, and he wielded a mace that crackled with dark energy. He looked upon Thariel with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

"So, the daughter of Melian stands against me," Sauron hissed, his voice like the grinding of stone. "You think your light can withstand the power of the dark?"

Thariel met his gaze without fear. "The light of Valinor shines within me, Sauron," she said, her voice strong and clear. "It is a light that will not be extinguished by your darkness."

With a roar, Sauron swung his mace at Thariel, the air humming with its force. Thariel leapt aside, her movements swift and graceful. She countered with a strike of her sword, its blade cutting through the shadows that surrounded Sauron. The dark lieutenant staggered back, a snarl on his lips.

They clashed again, a storm of light and darkness, their battle echoing across the battlefield. Thariel's blade, infused with the magic of her mother, cut through Sauron's defenses, while his mace sent tremors through the ground with each blow. Sparks flew as their weapons met, and the ground beneath them scorched with the intensity of their duel.

As Thariel battled Sauron, the forces of the Valar pressed ever closer to Angband. Eönwë, leading the charge, called forth the power of Manwë, and a great wind swept across the plains, driving back the forces of Morgoth. The sky darkened, and a storm of lightning and thunder erupted, as the Valar unleashed their wrath upon the fortress.

The gates of Angband shattered under the assault, and Morgoth, the Dark Lord himself, emerged, his form towering and terrible, wreathed in shadow and darkness. He wore a crown of iron, and in his hand, he wielded the mighty hammer Grond, the same weapon that had broken the gates of Valinor long ago.

Seeing his master, Sauron faltered for a moment, and in that instant, Thariel struck. Her blade, glowing with the light of Valinor, pierced Sauron's armor, cutting deep. Sauron let out a cry of pain, his form flickering, and he fell to his knees. But before Thariel could deliver a final blow, Sauron vanished, his spirit fleeing into the shadows, leaving his form empty on the ground.

Turning, Thariel saw Morgoth's vast form striding across the battlefield, each step shaking the earth. The armies of the Valar converged upon him, and the final battle began. Eagles swooped down, raking his face with their talons, while Eönwë and the Maiar unleashed their power against him.

Thariel joined the fray, her voice rising in a song of defiance. She sent wave after wave of light from her blade, striking at Morgoth's legs, weakening his stance. The Valar's host pressed forward, their strength overwhelming, and Morgoth, once the mightiest of the Ainur, began to falter.

In a final, desperate attempt, Morgoth raised Grond, but the hammer was struck from his hands by a bolt of lightning sent by Manwë. The ground beneath Morgoth gave way, and he fell to his knees, his iron crown toppling from his head. The Valar's host surged forward, and Eönwë, with the power of the Valar behind him, cast Morgoth down, binding him in chains of unbreakable light.

The skies cleared, and the darkness that had covered Beleriand for so long began to lift. The battle was over, and Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, was defeated. His fortress of Angband was broken, and his creatures scattered, leaderless and afraid.