[piosenniel]

Angara sped across the waters as the day deepened into night. No stars hung in the dark heavens as she passed, and even the moon was blotted out by the light of battle as the host of the Valar advanced on Angband.

She flew east of the River Sirion now as she gained the land, daring to increase her size and so increase her speed as well, still keeping well away from the main thrust of the Valar.

Now she passed Andram, the Long Wall, and picking up speed, crossed the plain into Doriath. Around the great forest, once the kingdom of Thingol and Melian, she turned a little more eastward and followed the course of the River Aros north to Ered Gorgoroth.

The Mountains of Terror fell away below her as she crossed into Dorthonion, and headed for the highland area.

Who flies on this dread night, alone, and toward Anfauglith? came the challenge from the skies, as a rush of wings encircled her, halting her in her path.

All were called by Thorondor to aid the Valar. Eärendel sails to meet the dragons which have beset the Host, and we would know if you mean to aid us in the battle or aid the fell wyrms of Morgoth. The great eagles pressed in close about her.

I do not mean to hinder you. spoke Angara. My intent, though, is solely for the rescue of two prisoners held by orcs here in Dorthonion. They must be brought safely out of Beleriand before this battle has seen its end.

She speaks the truth. said one of the eagles drawing near to her, and facing his companions. This is the dragon, Angara, who was late a guest of Thorondor at Cirith Thoronath. She was there when Gondolin fell, with her companions. Some of whom perished in the battle against Morgoth.

He turned to face her. You must fly hard now. The terrible light of battle grows brighter in the North. Eärendil has almost reached the western slopes of Thangorodrim, and we must leave to meet the southward thrust of the dragons as they drive against the Host of the Valar. Fare well!

'And fare well to you.' thought Angara to her self as she sped on, though her heart was heavy with the knowledge they must meet in dire battle with members of her own race, now corrupted into evil by Morgoth.

Soon she entered the high reaches of Taur-nu-Fuin, and dropping a little lower, circled the wide area until she spied a fire of some sort burning in a clearing.

She decreased her size and flew lower. It was an encampment of hobbits! Many hobbits. And by the looks of it they were all sleeping. She flew with stealth around the perimeter and saw few guards in the area. Those she did were all passed out upon the ground, their weapons in careless disarray about them.

Child! called the dragon, now the size of a kitten. Make ready! Gather Rose and Bird. I have come for you!

She perched in the boughs of a tall pine tree and waited.

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It was the middle of the night. The whole encampment had retired. Most of the women and children slept, but the men lay awake, alert and waiting for a signal from Bullroarer. Concealed at their sides were axes which had been toted along from the lowland timber range. The men had moved their bedrolls along the edge of camp, sandwiching themselves between the Orcs and their own families.
Child herself could not sleep. Too much was whirling back and forth inside. Then, in the quiet, she felt a presence within her mind. It was a familiar tug she had sensed many times before when sitting on the deck of the Star and looking out at the evening sea. Not now, she thought. Not yet! Don't let it end so soon.

But, the whispers of the dragon were soon drowned out by yet another sound, one that Child had hoped to hear for a very long time. The guards had paid scant attention to the prisoners in recent days. They had lusted for the blood of battle and drowned their anger in a torrent of ale. The Orcs lay sodden and sleeping on the ground, their swords and spears in disarray. They had not posted guards as they saw no reason to fear the docile rats under their control. Outwardly, the hobbits seemed like the same obedient creatures that the Orcs had cowed and bullied for months.

One of the Snowhobbits awoke in the middle of the night, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Estel pawing for grass near the guards. Fearing for the life of his beloved pony, the lad dashed over to that side of the hill and came crashing into one of the sleepers.

In that instant, bedlam descended on the camp. The Orc drew his spear, intending to make short work of the child. Led by the charging Bullroarer, the hobbits responded with pent up rage. For the first time in months, they could strike a blow for their families who had suffered so much and so long. Axes miraculously appeared from under cloaks and blankets.

Still groggy from the ale, the Orcs awoke fumbling for their weapons. Within less than a minute, the two sides were fighting fiercely. The Orcs had the advantage of size and sheer might, but the hobbits were adept and light-footed and more numerous. And they were seized with a fury which had known no outlet for month-after-month and murder-after-murder.

Child stared upward to the skies. Above all, she saw the figure of a winged dragon framed in green and gold. The beast bellowed in rage at the Orcs. Then, out of nowhere, the call was taken up by a second winged form, this one shining in colors of black and white. As the two sped onto the field out of nowhere, the mountain erupted into fire and smoke. Several of the hobbits hid their heads in fear.

Child peered over to the raging bands. She could vaguely make out the battling forms of Ban and Maura and Lindo. In the thick of the inferno, towering over the hobbits, Ancalimon wielded his staff and sword. Beside him was another familiar sight. For, out of that entourage, could be seen one lone maiden, her curls bound back and sword in hand. One part of Child's mind was deeply concerned for Rose's safety, while the other wondered how she had ever managed to find that sword.

The hobbits had finished off many of their captors, either with axes or by tumbling them over the cliff. At that moment, two winged beasts surged over the battlefield. They raced forward with great flames spouting out onto the retreating figures. Within a moment, not a single Ore was left alive. And every hobbit man, woman, and child stood up and cheered to see the Orcs slain and freedom won.

[ August 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ August 21, 2002: Message edited by: Mithadan ]