Chances Are (Avengers & LOTR crossover)

Fallen

[Author's Note: So I decided that from now on I'm going to put link to music that helps me into mood as I write every chapter. Feel free to listen to them as you read on. Let me know what you think! Happy Reading]

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Rivendell has fallen.

That much, Elrond had come to terms with. Expected it even. Yet seeing what he had foreseen didn’t make it hurt less.

The shelter that once ruled by peace, his home, was now burning to ruin and ashes. Some of its once majestic buildings were eaten by the wrath of flames; white walls stained with both blood of his enemies and his people.

Oh, his people. How he had failed them all.

But he hadn’t failed Arda yet. As long as there is still fight in him, Elrond vowed to keep the secret from the enemy, whatever it takes, even carry it to his death.

“—we cannot linger anymore!”

The shouts from his young lieutenant were barely registered to him as more deafening explosion sounds shook his house. The enemy catapults—Elrond had no idea how they managed to bring the machineries towards Rivendell, unseen— had been the ones responsible for so many innocent blood to be spilled this day.

“My lord!” Reanor shook his lord’s arms just after he beheaded one of the Uruk-hai, the orc monsters that had swarmed and defiled their home. “Tell me what to do.”

Lord Elrond finally turned his focus to Reanor. His silence was somehow deafening as the elf warrior stared at him, his grip on his sword tight as he waited for his orders. The wise elf finally opened his mouth, but Reanor could smell the incoming orcs before they launched their strike at him and his lord whose life he swore to protect.

The quick witted elf then guided his lord to a slight opening in the crack of the wall just so the Uruks won’t be able to see them. At least for a while.

“You must leave me,” murmured Lord Elrond, his voice shaky yet there was a clarity in his order, “Tell Glorfindel to fall back.”

The elf lieutenant had a dark look about his expression as he stared at his lord in disbelief. He took a careful observation on the lord of Rivendell. Weariness weighed heavily upon his dirt-stained face; dark, long hair disheveled. His thousand years eyes that would usually emanated wisdom that his subjects could always depend upon was now seemed empty. Lost even.

“I cannot leave you like this. You are hurt,” objected Reanor, jaw tight as he briefly studied the bloody shoulder of the ancient lord, “Who will protect you?”

“Who will protect my people?” asked Lord Elrond instead, his eyes swimming with emotion. “Evacuate the city. Get them anywhere but here. We need to save those that still live.”

Reanor was a warrior; a lieutenant. It was his job to be strong. To inspire and carry on his duty. But now, upon hearing the doom in his lord’s order, he felt nothing but heartbreak that threaten to break his spirits.

A tight grab on his armored shoulder by Lord Elrond caught his attention.

“They need you more than I do, Reanor,” said Lord Elrond, his voice almost drowned by the sound of catapults upon catapults launched by the enemy. “You are young. You still have a long way ahead of you. I believe you will do everything necessary for the survival of our people. My only wish…” the wise elf shakily took his ring off of his finger and put it in Reanor's palm, “…is that you give this to my sons.”

At this point emotions had already set a fog in Reanor's eyes, and he was close to cry right there in front of his lord.

“Give me that knife,” Lord Elrond grunted as he moved to unsheathe the blade that was strapped to Reanor’s hip, then moved back to rest his back on the stone wall behind him, his left hand maintaining a pressure on his injured right shoulder.