The loss of Gil-galad

7

As the first light of dawn broke over the battlefield, Thariel stood among her comrades, her sword lowered, her heart filled with both relief and sorrow. She looked upon the fallen fortress of Angband, its walls crumbling, the fires within extinguished. The cost of the victory had been great, and the lands of Beleriand were scarred by the war. Yet, a sense of hope filled her heart, a hope that the darkness had been driven back and that peace might come at last.

Eönwë approached her, his face solemn but his eyes filled with respect. "Thariel, daughter of Melian and Thingol," he said, his voice echoing with the authority of the Valar, "you have fought bravely, and your light has been a beacon to us all. The darkness of Morgoth has been driven back, and for that, we give thanks."

Thariel nodded, though her thoughts were already turning to the future. "The shadow may be gone, but its remnants still linger," she said. "Sauron has fled, and his malice will continue to haunt this world. We must remain vigilant."

Eönwë nodded in agreement. "That we shall. But today, we celebrate the end of Morgoth's reign. The world has been given a chance to heal, and for that, we must be grateful."

Thariel looked up at the sky, where the first stars were fading in the light of the new dawn. She thought of her mother, Melian, and her father, Thingol, and the sacrifices that had been made to bring about this victory. A sense of peace washed over her, and she knew that, whatever challenges lay ahead, the light of Valinor would guide her, just as it always had.

With a final, grateful sigh, Thariel sheathed her sword and joined the ranks of the victorious, ready to face whatever the future might bring.