Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

An Homage

Everything burned as the inferno raged. Out of the heart of the flames stepped a massive figure, clouded in smoke. In his right hand, he wielded an ax with a head of fire and melting steel. His left hand held a flaming whip of many tongs.

Turgon and Ecthelion stepped back from the monster.

"We must retreat, my lord," said Ecthelion.

"And go where?" Turgon demanded. "I will hide no longer! Where was I when my father dueled the great enemy? Where was I when my brother fell before the doors of Angband, a shining light amid shadow and flame? Ever our first concern was this city, which we called the hope of the Noldor. Now that hope lies in ruin! What remains for us now, but revenge?"

Ecthelion drew his sword and held it aloft in defiance of the coming shadow. "So it shall be! What foe could stand before the might of Orchrist and Glamdring drawn together beneath the flower of Laurelin!"

"While we may not have the strength to avenge my father," cried Turgon, "naught but 20 yards stands between us and my brother's killer. Let us bring bold Fingon good tidings in the halls of Mandos!"

As the King and his captain charged the Lord of the Balrogs, the curtains closed. Everyone leapt to their feet to applaud the performers. After several minutes Ilmarë led them out of the theater and into the lobby.

"How could they," exclaimed Carmegil as they left the theater. "They cut out the duel of the pointy hat!"

Glorfindel laughed merrily. "Would they have us believe it was by the might of Orchrist and Glamdring that Gothmog was slain? Where was Gothmog's Bane?"

"And how many confirmed kills do your helmets have?" asked a man approaching them in the lobby.

"Ecthelion!" exclaimed Glorfindel, rushing to embrace him. Carmegil followed suit.

"None that I recall; I prefer more elegant techniques," said the Herald of Manwë with a smile and a wink.

"Elegant? In eagle form I saw you bite a troll," laughed Ecthelion.

"I don't recommend that - it tasted terrible," quipped Eönwë, his face contorting in disgusr.

The company filed out of the lobby and into a great courtyard of Tirion. It was late, but the streets were far from empty.

"I regret I must leave you now," said Eönwë. "Tulkas and Oromë are likely already in Ilmarin, and they will expect me to be there to brief them on the situation in Middle Earth."

"You just want an excuse to fly back instead of riding," said Carmegil.

"When have I even needed an excuse to do that?" asked the Prince of Eagles.

Eönwë kissed his wife goodnight and stepped a safe distance away from the elves. With a flash of fire his wings appeared, outstretched on either side. For a moment he seemed to crouch, as one might before a jump, then he shot a hundred yards into the air and circled once above the theater. Throwing his wings back he disappeared quickly into clouds above the city.

"What is the point of wings if he need not flap them for lift?" asked Elladan in surprise.

"They look good," chuckled Carmegil devilishly.