Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

The Elves scattered as the Balrog lashed out. Its’ whip caught a table and flipped it over causing it to burst into flames. Sir Helcëtôr shouted something Logan couldn’t hear and light blasted from his outstretched hand striking the Balrog in the chest. Then something happened Logan would never forget. The creature laughed! The echo of its malevolent laughter resonated around the hall even as it struck with its whip and sword, killing the Elves closest to it.

Molly jumped forward and shouted something Logan couldn’t quite hear, and then his trident now shining like the sun blazed up throwing the shadows back. Without saying anything else he threw it at the Balrog. The beast of flame and darkness twisted using its sword to block the strike. And then it lashed out at Molly. Somehow he managed to summon another trident before the Balrog’s sword could strike home and blocked it. Light flared and the concussion knocked several Elves from their feet. Logan felt the power wash over her but it didn’t touch her, at the same time she felt her tattoo stir. Without thinking about it Logan reached for Melchiresa pulling the power into her.

Logan felt the world twist as her clothes burst under her expanding and changing flesh. Some instinct told Logan that she needed to do everything she could to defeat this opponent or the entire village would be nothing more than ashes by morning. The heady rush of power left Logan gasping as her flesh shifted and changed, and then it was over.

When Logan looked up most of the Elves had fled. Molly was fighting the Balrog only it wasn’t exactly Molly. He’d changed. He was now of a height with the Balrog and was the spitting image of the Spartan Warrior Logan had gotten tattooed onto his shoulder. Molly was using a shield and the glowing trident to fight the Balrog, and it looked like he was holding his own.

Then Logan stretched and for the first time was able to spread her wings to their full extent. Before Logan could help Molly nearly two dozen Orcs dropped through the boughs to land on the platform. Knowing she had to act quickly, before they could join the fight, Logan swept a clawed hand at those to her right. A gust of wind sprang into existence throwing half of the Orcs from the platform to send them tumbling and spinning to the ground several hundred feet below.

*At last, we fight!*

The gleeful shout from Melchiresa was something Logan didn’t have time to deal with right then. A few Elves led by Othon and Cainir were fighting the Orcs to her left so she didn’t dare use air to brush them from the platform. Then a bellow from the Balrog caused Logan to look back at the duel between the monster and Molly. The Balrog had dropped its whip and its arm hung useless to one side while Molly crouched behind his shield trident at the ready. Evidently he’d gotten through the creature’s defenses and wounded it.

“Thou dare raise thy hand against me, mortal? I shall drink thy blood and feast upon your soul!”

The creature’s voice was enough to cause several of the Elves present to fall to the floor covering their ears. However, Logan saw an opening and lifted her hand to point at the creature. A bar of intense white-hot flame shot out to strike the creature in the chest. It threw its head back and shrieked in an agony so intense that the world seemed to shudder around Logan.

Logan flapped her wings and, in the lesser gravity, this was all she needed to fly to Molly’s side. She landed lightly and glanced at Molly, “So, you’re not feeling anything weird from your tattoos?!”

“Okay, maybe Kratos has been talking to me. He didn’t want everyone to know about it. Sue me.”

“Who art thou to oppose me?”

The Balrog had climbed back to its feet and Logan knew that while it was hurt it wasn’t out of the fight yet.

“We are of no consequence.” Molly said, moving forward and to one side, away from Logan.

Suddenly Logan was aware that she was completely naked. ‘Um . . . clothes would be nice.’

*Of course.*

Suddenly Logan felt a corset, leather pants, and knee high boots materialize around her body. Then she lifted her right hand and felt the hilt of a Kris solidify while her left hand was writhed in a pentagram of flame.

“Thou art MAIAR!”

The Balrog’s shouted accusation resonated around the platform, and then it threw its’ sword at Molly. Before the sword struck Molly’s shield, it gestured at Logan and a spear of darkness shot toward her. Logan didn’t know what it was and twisted to avoid it. The darkness missed most of Logan but she hadn’t taken her wings into account and pain seared Logan’s mind as the darkness slashed a hole into the membrane of her left wing. Before either Molly or Logan could act, the Balrog threw itself from the platform, darkness swirled around it as it fell forming a giant set of wings. The Balrog soared to one side converting the speed of its descent into the energy it needed to glide away.

Logan snapped her wings and felt the wound tear further. Molly ran to the edge of the platform and hurled his trident at the receding monster. The Balrog sensed the attack and swerved at the last instant and even though it avoided the trident it slammed into a tree setting several branches aflame before tumbling the rest of the way to the ground below. With a shout Molly jumped from the platform and dropped to the ground.

“Son of a bitch!”

Logan rushed to the edge of the platform and looked down. Molly was already climbing to his feet apparently unharmed. With a deep breath she jumped from the platform. Her wings scooped the air and Logan felt the tear get bigger and then she reached out to the air, somehow knowing how manipulate it. The pressure on her wings eased to the point where Logan thought she could fold them and she still wouldn’t fall. By the time she touched down Logan saw that the Balrog was on its feet and attempting to run. Molly had been faster and caught it. The Balrog was a being of black-flame and darkness and Molly shone golden and crimson against the shadow. It was almost as if Molly’s bright power fought the shadow just as the two fought. Dark fire blasted toward Molly and Logan felt the flame within her mind and reached out for it.

“So you like to play with fire do you?” Logan snarled, and spun her hand. The flame strike was deflected up before it touched Molly and spun around in a tight circle before it smashed back down into the Balrog. The creature threw back its head and screamed, again, and the tree next to it burst into flame. Then panting the Balrog glared at Molly and Logan.

“Tell me your names, Maiar, that I might know the identity of the ones who will end Gorlung.”

“Names have power Gorlung, but you may call me Sornohen, and this is my friend Ilcaúrna.”

“A small courtesy, that, for thou art not Elves. The spirit within you comes from beyond Arda.”

Suddenly a horn sounded, followed by another, and another. The Elves of Lindornëa were organizing and counter attacking. A set of shrill bugles and whistles responded and the shouts of battled drifted forward. The Orcs were pressing forward, yet even though the village had been caught by surprise it was responding rapidly to the threat.

“Ha! Fly while you can, fools, your doom is upon you!” Gorlung shouted with glee. “My Lord, Gothmog, Captain of Angband, approaches!”

Then the ground shook and leaves fell upon them like rain. Logan sensed more than heard the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. Then her sight was swept away as a vision gripped her mind. In the distance she saw a Balrog, and another, and another, they were all attacking the edge of the village and the Elves were falling before them in an effort to slow down the attack. Then Logan’s sight focused in on the Balrog leading the attack. This Balrog was half again taller than the rest and as he moved through the forest the trees shuddered and burst into flame.

“DIE!”

Molly’s shout brought Logan back to herself in time to see him throw his trident at Gorlung. Even as the glowing trident flashed through the air Molly pulled out his Gladius and raced toward the injured Balrog. Gorlung tried to get his good arm up to catch the trident but he was too slow. The weapon hit him in the chest and there was a clap like thunder, and Gorlung was thrown back pinned to a tree by the trident. Then Molly struck, his sword came down in a short overhand chop the clove Gorlung’s head in two.

For a second it felt like reality twisted and the very fabric of the world groaned, then Gorlung burst into a blue-white flame burning to ash in an instant. As the ashes fell to the ground Logan felt as though a great shadow had departed and her heart soared. Then the shouts from the approaching Balrogs rang out.

“Do you think they sensed Gorlung’s death?”

“I don’t think we should stick around to find out.” Logan pointed, “Gothmog is still at the edge of the village, we should try to find Sir Helcëtôr and figure out what they are doing to defend the village.”

Molly looked at Logan in surprise, “You can see Gothmog?”

“Yeah, why?”

Molly shrugged, “I can sense the approach of something terrifying but I can’t see anything yet.”

Logan paused to consider, “There are six Balrogs and Gothmog. Gothmog is much taller and stronger looking than the rest of the Balrogs. He’s taller than you as well. I can see them when I focus, but not with my eyes, if that makes sense.”

Molly gulped, “Six? Shit. Okay let’s link up with the rest of the village’s defenders and see what we can organize.”

Just then a shout drew Molly and Logan’s attention. Standing on one of the tree bridges a dozen yards away was Cainir waving at them.

“My Lord Sornohen, my Lady Ilcaúrna, come. Sir Helcëtôr is in need of you.”

Logan found a scabbard at her side and sheathed her Kris and caused the fire surrounding her left wrist to go out and then leapt into the night, using the air to lift her up to the rope bridge without using her injured wing. A second later Molly landed behind her.

“Lead the way good Cainir.”

The Elf took off moving with the speed and grace of an Elven Ranger. Molly and Logan found that it was easy to keep up. In short order they arrived at a building set partly upon the ground and partly within a large tree. The building was lit by dozens of glowing crystals and Elves in every state of dress, from partly clothed to fully armed and armored, rushed around. Before Cainir could lead them into the hive of activity Logan laid a clawed hand on his shoulder stopping him.

“Cainir, what news of Othon and Narmartë?”

“Othon died on the end of an Orc spear. I avenged him, may the light of Illúvatar shine on him forever.”

For the first time Logan realized that Cainir was splattered in black Orc blood and his face was bruised.

“As for Narmartë, she fled under the cover of Sir Helcëtôr’s spell. I expect she’s been assigned one of the most challenging jobs defending this village. Now come.”

Cainir lead them into the large open room Sir Helcëtôr was using and paused for a moment to let Logan and Molly take in the scene. The headquarters reminded Logan of a Tactical Operations Center (TOC) only the Elves were using enchanted mirrors as monitors, and spell-sung stones to communicate with the counter attacking forces. It only took a glance to see that Sir Helcëtôr had his hands full. He was fighting a defensive battle as he tried to buy time for the villagers to escape. Then he turned and spotted Molly and Logan and his eyes widened.

It was only a quick look and then he returned to issuing orders but Logan knew they’d been spotted and it would only be a few minutes before Sir Helcëtôr spoke with them. While they waited Logan noticed that the Elves were giving the three of them a wide berth. It wasn’t like they were afraid of them, which surprised Logan a little since she looked like a demon at the moment, but more out of awe and respect. Then Logan sensed Sir Helcëtôr’s approach and turned to face him. Sir Helcëtôr nodded to Molly and then to Logan.

“Thank you. Your defeat of Gorlung blunted the initial attack. The dark one’s forces had intended to slay Lindornëa’s leaders with a decapitation strike. Thus leaderless the defenders would have been unorganized and easy prey to the attacking forces.”

“What of Gothmog? He’s leading the attack, and unless I misunderstood my vision, they will be here soon.”

Sir Helcëtôr looked over at Logan and regarded her for a moment without any expression and then sighed, “My lady, I do not know why you chose a form like and yet unlike the servants of Morgoth, but I will not question one of the Maiar.” Sir Helcëtôr shook his head, “I’ve organized a counter strike. We will allow Gothmog to push forward, ahead of the rest of his forces and then we will hit him with the most formidable of our defenders.”

Suddenly a shout when up from the middle of the command center and Sir Helcëtôr hurried over to a large mirror. The mirror showed a narrow gully leading away from the village. The gully was full of Elven women and children but they’d stopped moving. At the far end of the gully a force of Orcs had taken the high ground and the fleeing Elves had stopped beyond arrow range. A troop of Elves lead by Narmartë was attempting to dislodge the Orcs. But a Balrog had moved forward. Narmartë and the beast were trading spells but she was being driven back.

“Damnation!” An Elf with a set of wings sweeping up from his silver helm, said and then looked at Sir Helcëtôr. “How did they know about the escape route?”

“It matters naught. Do we have a squad that can relieve them?”

“Nay, milord. All our forces are committed to slowing the attack and trapping Gothmog.”

With that Sir Helcëtôr looked at another mirror. Gothmog was now out ahead of the rest of the attackers charging through the trees. Elven warriors fled before him pausing once in a while to fire an enchanted arrow before resuming their flight. Another mirror showed a force of mounted Elves with tall helms, and the barding of Knights, waiting in a dark grove, impatient for battle.

“I must stop Gothmog or all is lost.” Sir Helcëtôr looked at the Elf in the winged helm, “Pray to Illúvatar that Captain Narmartë can overcome that beast.” Then he turned and looked at Logan and Molly, “I would be honored if you would both stand by me and face Gothmog.”

Before Molly could respond Logan said, “Perhaps there is a way to save the villagers.”

Sir Helcëtôr shook his head, “I don’t see how. Our first priority is stopping Gothmog. But even if I wanted to, I don’t have a force I can send that will reach them in time.”

Logan stretched her wings noting that the tear had healed, “I can get there in time.” Then she turned to Molly, “Go with Sir Helcëtôr and kill Gothmog. I’ll fly out and help Narmartë.”

“Let it be done.” Sir Helcëtôr said.

Molly looked a little worried but nodded and said in English, “Take care of yourself, I’ll never forgive you if you get yourself killed.”

Logan nodded and spun around to race out of the building. She cast her mind into the ether and felt Narmartë’s psychic presence. She was several miles away to the north. Logan spread her wings and summoned the wind. A gust lifted her into the air and her vision shifted so that it was as easy for her to see in the dark as in the daylight. Knowing she didn’t have much time Logan summoned more and more wind until all she could hear was the whistling rush of air as she shot above the trees.

As Logan soared through the night air she looked down spotting pockets of fighting as the Elves desperately sought to slow the onslaught. Her vision, a blessing a few minutes earlier, was now a curse as she saw a squad of Elves cut down by a troop of Orcs. For a second she was tempted to drop down and help, but she knew that if she did the refugees would die. The flight only took a few more seconds and then Logan could see the gully between the trees and dove toward the fight.

Narmartë and been forced back and the Orcs were advancing along the high ground already ranging in on the trapped Elves, and their deadly bolts were beginning to strike home. Then with the sound of a hurricane Logan swooped over the advancing Orcs. She drew her Kris and pointed it at the Orcs below. Logan felt the metal within the blade and then she sensed the metal below respond. The Orcs shrieked as every knife, spear, sword, and arrowhead twisted becoming useless. But the spell didn’t stop there; helms twisted and contracted crushing the skulls within, breast plates collapsed as though struck by a giant hammer as Logan soared over the Orcs.

‘Did I do that?’ Logan wondered, already knowing the answer.

*We are the mistress of air, fire, and metal. Twisting it to suit our purposes is child’s play.* Melchiresa responded.

Then she was past them turning in a tight circle Logan landed between the Balrog and Narmartë. As she landed she flared her wings and sent a gust of air out that knocked both Narmartë and the Balrog off their feet. Logan lifted her hand and saw that it was once again wreathed in blue-white fire.

“Ardebit!” Logan shouted and pointed her hand at the Balrog. A bar of tightly controlled blue-white flame shot out. But the Balrog was quick and dove to one side. The creature came to its feet and threw something toward Logan. This time Logan felt Melchiresa wanting to do something and allowed her to guide them. The dozen darts of darkness struck a field of hardened air exploding in a series of detonations.

Logan took a quick glance at Narmartë who was slowly climbing to her feet. Her side was drenched with blood but she had a grim look of determination on her face. Then Logan felt the field of hardened air collapse under a blow from the black blade wielded by the Balrog. Logan lashed out with the Kris and to her surprise she realized that the blade had grown from its normal foot long length to over three feet. The Balrog was as fast as a serpent and blocked her strike causing a shock from the impact to run up her arm.

The Balrog spun in an impossibly fast circle lashing out with a backhand strike at Logan. Logan tried to duck but somehow knew she wasn’t going to be quick enough and then the black blade twisted missing Logan by inches. Logan lunged forward driving her Kris into the Balrog’s shoulder and when she ripped her blade free she mentally tugged on the blade in the Balrog’s hand. With its shoulder ruined the beast couldn’t maintain a tight grip on its black sword and it tumbled away.

“Maiar Bitch! I will take thee to the abyss with me!”

With that the Balrog lunged forward grabbing Logan around the throat with its uninjured hand. Logan drove her Kris into the Balrog’s gut but the creature of flame and darkness ignored it. Logan twisted the blade and tried to pull it up and gut the Balrog but she felt her vision grow dim. Then she was falling back and for a second she was confused. The clawed hand was still at her throat but it had no strength and then she realized it had been severed at the wrist.

Narmartë stood over the Balrog her armor now blazing silver white and even though her side was drenched with blood she looked determined. She swung her sword, covered in black gore, at the Balrog’s neck. Even though its’ arm had been severed the monster wasn’t done. It spoke a word of power that twisted upon the night air and Narmartë was thrown back before her blow could strike home. The distraction was all that Logan had needed, she held out her flaming left hand and white hot fire lashed out. This time the Balrog was too slow to avoid the strike. The fire hit the creature in the chest and its own unnatural black flame blazed up as if trying to convert the white flame to its purpose.

Suddenly Logan felt the dark will of the Balrog forcing her fire to change. Logan instinctively knew what to do and threw her will against the Balrog, ordering the white fire to consume the monster. For a long moment they were evenly matched and then Melchiresa added her will to Logan’s. The Balrog’s will collapsed under their combined assault and the white fire blazed up in a pillar of flame almost twenty feet high. Both Logan and Narmartë stumbled back and Narmartë covered her ears to shut off the dyeing screams of the servant of Morgoth. Once again Logan felt the world around them shudder as a dark shadow departed.

Logan looked around and saw that the Orcs that had held the high ground to either side of the gully had fled. When she glanced at the Elves they were looking at her with awe in their eyes.

“Come, we dare not tarry. The forces of Morgoth are attacking Lindornëa in numbers too great for us to defeat.” Logan said. She then looked at Narmartë who now that the fight had ended had sunk to her knees. Logan hurried to her side. The blow from the Balrog had cut through her armor and left a deep wound in her side. Logan had seen worse on the battlefield after an IED but the wounded soldier had died before they’d been able to medevac him.

‘Is there anything we can do?’ Logan thought.

*Yes, but you’ll have to give me control.*

‘Fine.’

Logan felt Melchiresa surge forward and she knew that she needed to sort of let go. Logan felt her eyes blink and then she knelt next to Narmartë. It was the oddest thing, to be a passenger in your own body, yet she somehow knew if she wanted to she could have taken control.

*Watch closely.*

Melchiresa sheathed the Kris and then reached down to cover the wound with her right hand. Then with her left hand, now devoid of the flaming pentagram, she touched Narmartë’s forehead.

“Et Totum!”

Logan could feel a surge of power come from within her and move through her hands into Narmartë. As it did she could sense Narmartë’s body in a new way, she could feel the pain of Narmartë’s wounds, an angry red wrongness within her body. Logan felt Melchiresa send her energy at the wrongness soothing it, nudging it, changing it from the angry red to the soothing blue that was Narmartë’s natural aura.

*There,* there was a satisfied tone in Melchiresa’s voice. *All done.*

Then Logan felt Melchiresa’s control fade and she stood up and looked around. Somehow Logan knew that only a few seconds had passed.

“Will she live, Great-One?”

The Elven woman had a small child strapped to her front and a large pack on her back, yet her face showed that she was concerned for Narmartë.

“Yes, but she must rest. Much of the energy for the healing came from her, and using the song as much as she has this night has further exhausted her.” The words came out of Logan’s mouth but she knew they were from Melchiresa. Then she heard Melchiresa’s voice in her mind, *I have used much of my power this night as well and must rest.* Then her awareness of Melchiresa faded.

Logan felt tired, exhausted mentally and physically and then her body shifted. She felt herself shrinking her wings and horns disappearing and then she was standing next to the Elven woman in her human form. Logan was a little surprised to note that she was still wearing the clothes Melchiresa had summoned. She heard a faint giggle in the back of her mind, *I can’t have you running around naked* and then Melchiresa’s presence was gone.

Tired as she was Logan reached down and picked Narmartë up. “Thank goodness for lower gravity,” she said in English and then looked over at the Elven woman.

“You will have to lead, I don’t know the way.”

“It will be my honor Lady Ilcaúrna.”

Molly watched as Logan disappeared into the night sky. There was a part of his brain that noticed the delectable female curves and wanted to pursue her. Logan felt a twitching on his back and pushed back, willing Boreas to be still.

“Come, friend Sornohen, we must travel quickly if we are to stop Gothmog.” Sir Helcëtôr said.

Molly turned to the tall Elven warrior, noting how his armor glowed softly in the night. Tall as he was Molly stood head and shoulders taller and he could feel raw masculine power coursing through his veins. Kratos, growled wordlessly in the back of his mind, urging him to battle.

“Lead on, Sir Helcëtôr, for it is a beautiful night for battle.”

The tall Elf set out at a swift run and when he saw that Molly had no trouble keeping up increased his pace. As they ran Elfish warriors seemed to materialize around them. Before they’d gone more than half a mile they had collected two score warriors.

“What do you know of the Balrog Gothmog?” Helcëtôr’s question caught Molly off guard.

“Nothing, other than that he is the Balrog Captain leading this assault and must die.”

At this Sir Helcëtôr gave Molly a strange look. “As a Maiar, I don’t have to tell you that the Balrog’s are Maiar who followed Morgoth into the shadow. Gothmog is chief among them. He slew Fëanor and all of the Noldor owe him for that ill deed. His strength is more than we can stand against alone, your coming gives us hope this night.”

Abruptly Sir Helcëtôr slowed and they entered a grove. At the far end stood at least twenty knights along with the finest horses Molly had ever seen. As a young girl she’d had a fondness for horses and that had turned into years of riding lessons. These horses were beyond anything Molly had ever seen, taller with cleaner lines, they were built for speed and power and she knew that if she could take a few with her back to Earth they’d be worth millions in stud fees alone.

Sir Helcëtôr moved to a great pale horse and climbed into the saddle accepting a long silver lance from one of the warriors who’d been waiting in the grove. He turned to Molly, “Sornohen, there is a path, a dozen yards in that direction.” Sir Helcëtôr pointed to Molly’s left with his lance. “Gothmog is moving down it as it leads to the heart of Lindornëa. The trees are now filled with our best archers and spell-singers. They will keep the trees from flaming and will use their power to suppress Gothmog. When the horn sounds I will lead my knights in a charge. If Illúvatar is with us, this will be enough to end the Lord of the Balrogs. I ask that you follow behind me and my knights and do what you think best.” Then he glanced at the warriors who’d followed from the command center, “These brave souls will cover our retreat should that become necessary.”

Molly nodded but he could feel that Kratos wasn’t happy with this arrangement.

*We should lead the charge. These Calaquendi have the heart for battle but in this fight they lack the strength.*

The first time Kratos had spoken to Molly he thought he was going crazy. Now the voice of the gruff warrior was a comforting presence within his mind.

‘If we lead the charge we’ll be between them and Gothmog. They will be forced to slow down and try to come at the Balrog from the sides. The strength of the charge is in the speed and weight of the horse and warrior striking together. It is best to let them make their strike first.’

Molly could feel that Kratos wasn’t happy with the answer but he understood the logic and said nothing. Molly focused on summoning another trident and made sure he was ready to play his part. After a few seconds of waiting Molly felt the ground tremble and knew the mighty Balrog was approaching.

“What of the other Balrogs?” Molly asked. “Even if Gothmog is slain, they will press the assault, will they not?”

Sir Helcëtôr had been looking toward the approaching Lord of Balrogs and glanced at Molly. His face was pale and Molly knew that the approaching creature was having an effect on the waiting Elves.

“Yea, verily, the attack will continue. But the force of it will be blunted. The other Balrogs will wonder how Gothmog could have been slain and will pull back, at least for a short time. That time is precious for it will allow our evacuation to succeed.” While Sir Helcëtôr was speaking the fear in his eyes receded but Molly somehow sensed this wasn’t enough. Something in Molly made him turn to face the gathered Elves.

“Hear me, O Warriors of Nevrast!” The words flowed from Molly but he could sense Kratos and rather than suppress him Molly allowed him to continue speaking, “Fear, fire, and red-handed foes approach. A host of fell creatures with the power of the Enemy of Light within each breast is upon us. This is a red night, for tonight blood will be spilled, tonight we will take the light of our righteous anger and cast it as defiance against the forces of the night.” As he spoke Molly found his voice growing louder and louder, and as it did it took on a strange quality. Every eye in the clearing was now upon him and for a moment he wondered what it was they expected.

“Rejoice, for thou art the chosen warriors of Nevrast! Noldor or Sindar, it matters not. For to us, good fortune has granted the chief task, we few, of all those who face battle this night shall face the sternest test.”

At this Molly could sense an indrawn breath as if the warriors around him were waiting on his next words, like a man dying of thirst in the desert waits for that one sip of water that will save him.

“I say to you REJOICE my brothers and sisters of the sword! For tonight is a beautiful night! Tonight we will put an end to Gothmog and avenge the House of Fëanor!”

At this the Elves shouted and banged their swords against their shields drowning out the sound of the approaching Balrog. The noise was such that the call of the silver horn almost went unnoticed. Sir Helcëtôr lifted his hand and for a moment no one seemed to notice. Then he stood up in the stirrups and gestured with his lance before setting his horse into motion. Upon seeing their Commander move the rest of the Elven Knights followed and Molly set out at a loping run behind them. They were through the trees and onto the road in a matter of seconds.

The road was clear and straight, bitter clouds of black smoke blotted out the moon’s light, but the light was unnecessary. Moving down the road on cloven hooves a Balrog almost fifteen feet tall strode. It carried a red-flaming sword in one hand and a great iron ball shaped like a closed fist, attached to its wrist by a black chain, in the other. The iron fist had been rough forged with sigils of the blackest power stamped into each knuckle. Molly could see the red hate-filled glow of those sigils from where he was and knew this was an ancient power. For a moment he stumbled but then Kratos fierce spirit surged forward and Molly picked up his pace readying himself.

Then Sir Helcëtôr lifted a silver bugle to his lips and blew a mighty blast of the purest sound Molly had ever heard. For an instant he had a vision of an ice filled plain and a host of Elves locked in battle with Ice-Beasts of the far North. Then the vision vanished and arrows flew from the trees around Gothmog. Each arrow glowed with Elven-magic as it darted toward the Balrog. Yet the darkness swirled around him and the arrows vanished in that ill-fog doing no harm to Angband’s Captain. Spell fire fell upon Gothmog only to vanish before touching him and then he swung his mighty ball and chain in a great circle.

The sound of the Fist of Angband as it tore through the air was like a thousand fingernails on a thousand chalk boards and then it smashed through the base of a giant tree. The tree burst into flame and toppled taking the Elfish archers with it while setting the trees next to it aflame. Gothmog swung again this time to his left smashing through another tree with the same result. By the screams of the dying Elfish archers and spell-singers Molly knew a steep price had been paid.

Sir Helcëtôr was in front of the charging Knights. They had fallen into a wedge formation with Sir Helcëtôr the point of the wedge. Lances were set as the Knights raced forward their hooves sounded like thunder. As fast as the Knights were, none were as swift as Sir Helcëtôr and he soon separated himself from his fellows by several horse lengths. Molly had been running behind the Knights and now using all the momentum of his charge he hurled his trident. It flashed through the air and struck Gothmog just as he turned. The thunder clap of the strike momentarily stunned Gothmog and Sir Helcëtôr took full advantage. Gothmog hadn’t anticipated the speed of Sir Helcëtôr’s charge and then the distraction of Molly’s blow left him open.

Sir Helcëtôr drove his lance into the heart of the darkness with a flash of silver light and then swerved to the right ducking low in the saddle to avoid Gothmog’s counter stroke with his flaming sword. There was an inhuman bellow and Molly couldn’t tell if it was pain or rage. Then Gothmog swung the Fist of Angband on its chain at the charging Knights blasting through the formation like a bowling-ball striking pins, killing half of them with a single blow. The courage of the Noldor was in full form as the remaining Knights drove their shining lances into Gothmog. The Lord of Balrogs appeared to be unfazed and managed to kill a pair of Knights with his sword and then those that had survived were past him turning and drawing swords.

Now there was nothing between Molly and Gothmog and he summoned another trident putting all the might he could into an over hand thrust. Tall as he was Molly realized that Gothmog was taller, if only by a foot, and he wouldn’t be as easy to kill as Gorlung. Gothmog might have been wounded and in pain from the damage of the Knights attack, but if he was Molly couldn’t tell as he blocked the trident with his sword and swung the Fist at Molly. Molly knew if that thing hit his shield it would destroy it and probably break his arm so he leapt back. As soon as the Fist was past Molly struck again and Gothmog didn’t have time to get his sword around. Molly felt his trident strike home against the armor Gothmog wore and the black iron of Angband was equal to the test turning the trident aside. Then Gothmog struck with his sword and the weight of the blow to Molly’s shield left his arm feeling numb.

“Tell me thy name Maiar that I might know the identity of the fool who comes against me!”

The language wasn’t English or Elven yet Molly knew what the words meant. It was as if Kratos translated for him. Molly opened his mouth and answered in the same tongue.

“To the abyss with thee Gothmog!” Molly shouted and then lunged forward fainting a high line attack before striking at Gothmog’s leg. This time he felt the trident bite through the thinner armor on Gothmog’s thigh. “Die in ignorance!”

Gothmog’s shriek of pain and anger caused the trees around them to burst into flame and he whipped the Fist of Angband up and down trying to smash Molly flat with it. Molly stepped to one side just as the remaining Knights led by Sir Helcëtôr rode by with bright swords flashing like silver darts in the night. Gothmog distracted by his battle with Molly hadn’t sensed the Knights approach but he reacted faster than Molly would have thought possible. A backhanded strike with his blade killed another Knight and then he spun around swinging the Fist of Angband to the full length of its chain. Almost as if watching in slow motion Molly saw the mighty iron ball come around striking Sir Helcëtôr and his warhorse in the side smashing through them.

“Noooo!”

The thunder of Molly’s cry echoed through the forest and he threw his trident and pulled his Gladius before charging forward. Somehow Gothmog managed to block the trident and then Molly was on him. Molly smashed his shield into Gothmog knocking him back and drove his sword forward into the black iron breastplate. The foul enchantments on that armor held for an instant and then Molly’s sword was through. Now it was Gothmog’s turn to scream as he stumbled back. For the first time since the fight began Molly sensed fear in Gothmog so he pressed his advantage calling on all the power Kratos could give him. Gothmog blocked Molly’s second thrust with his sword and then Molly chopped down on the wrist holding the Iron Fist of Angband. There was a flash as Gothmog’s iron gauntlet resisted the power of the blow and then it gave.

Molly spun away and felt a flash of fire in his side as Gothmog struck with his sword. Molly’s armor turned most of the force of the blow and even though the cut was painful Molly knew it wasn’t bad. Gothmog’s scream was filled with anger, pain, and fear. He stumbled back, the black stump of his left arm pumped fiery-blood into the night and Molly knew that now was the time to end this fight, when out of the darkness another Balrog immerged. This Balrog was closely followed by a second and then Orcs were swarming forward.

The Elves who had survived made a good accounting as they fired arrows and spells at the attacking Orcs slowing the tide. Then the Elfish reserve formed up in a battle line to protect the line of retreat. For a moment Molly considered taking the battle forward against Gothmog. The Captain of Angband was severely wounded and now was the time to finish him. Then one of the new Balrogs shouted and threw a spear at Molly. Molly lifted his shield and it shivered under the force of the blow.

“Fall back, fall back, everyone!”

Molly’s shouted command was obeyed by the Elves on the battlefield. Surprisingly the forces of Morgoth didn’t press their advantage. Molly sheathed his sword and picked up the shattered body of Sir Helcëtôr, with tears running freely down his face, he raced into the smoke filled night.