[Anguirel]

RESULTS OF DAY ELEVEN (M-e)

Turin hurried through the harried, wilderness landscape of Dor-Lomin, vengeance and murder posessing his heart. In his right hand he gripped the sword Anglachel, also called Gurthang, flexing its blade from side to side. He would behead Brodda, with any Easterling who tried to stop him. Then he would go to Doriath, he decide, to find Nienor...

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the thrashing of a rope seizing his foot. Before he could stop himself, he had soared upwards. His foot bound his dangling body by a length of twine to an ash tree. He could not escape.

"We call it the Arrow-Tree," said a harsh voice. "I, Lord Brodda, will show you why. Men-fire!"

Black-fletched shafts sank into Turin's flesh...his torso was pinned to the ash trunk he flailed against. He remained, like a caught mackerel, contorting, until at last his massive body became still. Brodda smiled.

"You were very proud, and very foolish, to come back here, son of Hurin," he cried. "Now I shall take your Black Sword as a symbol of victory."

The Easterling approached, reaching out his hands to prize the enormous broadsword from the dead man's hand with his knife...

...and then Gurthang severed his head in a single slash. Turin's eyes were still closed, but his face wore a smile. He had had his vengeance. The sword toppled to the ground...but none of the Easterlings felt inclined to pick it up.

RESULTS OF THE CHALLENGE

Not the least reason why Morgoth's new assault fell on Doriath was the presence there of Nienor, now the last heir of Hurin. Whether his Curse remained or not, Morgoth still wanted his revenge on that foolishly brave man. He would have it now by ordering the Dragons to find and roast Hurin's daughter-along with Melian the Maia-and return the Silmaril to him.

The Dark Lord's armies charged into Neldoreth, burning and slaying without pity. Olwe and his army, depleted from wars with Dior, made what resistance it could; but the King of Neldoreth fell to the might of Glaurung. Yet at this point the host of Morgoth stopped. It seemed it could continue no further. For Melian had generously restored the old limits of her Girdle, including Neldoreth once more.

The only beings with the power to enter were the greatest of the Dragons, led by Glaurung and Ancalagon. The Orcs and Easterlings returned to Angband, content with their plunder from Olwe's court.

Glaurung and the wyrms without wings attacked Brethil, and the defenders could stand but little against them. Brandir the Lame was burnt where he stood. Dior's forces, both Elves and Men, retreated, but were trapped by Dragons. It seemed they were doomed...

...until the banners of the Star of Feanor were seen in the distance. Unlooked for, Maedhros, Maglor and Celegorm had come to the aid of Dior, with Telchar's Dwarves in alliance with them as usual. They did not love Dior for his keeping of the Silmaril and his part in the death of their brother, but nor did they wish the Silmaril to return to Morgoth. Daunted by such numbers, the Dragons hesitated. No blades present could wound Glaurung, but as more and more of his Dragons were slain by the Noldor and Dwarves he retreated. And there was peace between Dior and the Sons of Feanor.

Meanwhile, Ancalagon's attack had been frustrated by Mablung, whose sharp, precise arrows were the bane of many great drakes. However, while Mablung's archers and Melian's powers were distracted, the Dragon found Nienor and carried her off. This seemed victory enough for him, and his host withdrew. Thus Doriath was defended.

Yet the tale of the battle does not end here. For Ancalagon as he bore Nienor to Angband was watched from a tower in the deeps of Nan Elmoth by a tall Elf in a silver mask. As he saw the plight of the maiden, something in her eyes recalled the beloved who had rejected him, and he leapt onto the Dragon's back as it flew past...

Maiden, Elf and Dragon struggled as they veered down again. And finally the Elf struck the Dragon a dire blow, and it fled back to its Dark Master without its prey. But the Elf was gravely hurt.

"Girl," he said, "I would know thy name."

"Nienor," she said quietly, through her tears.

"That is good. Bury me here, at the foot of this tower, as 'Lomion', and I wish you...happiness. The sword...with me..."

Thus passed Maeglin, the son of Eol.

It's Day Twelve on Middle-Earth. The contestants:

Tribes

VALAR

Elbereth
Ulmo
Mandos, Doom of

NOLDOR

Maedhros
Maglor
Celegorm
Celebrimbor
Ereinion
Galadriel
Idril
Salgant
Glorfindel
Finduilas
Gwindor

TELERI/SINDAR

Celeborn
Mablung
Cirdan
Nimloth
Elwing

MAIA

Melian
Uinen
Arien (with Sun)

DWARVES

Telchar of Nogrod (incidentally, probably by now a different character. But with the same name. Like Durin the Deathless...)
Mim the Petty-dwarf

MEN

Dior
Tuor
Nienor

FORCES OF EVIL

Morgoth
Sauron
Glaurung
Ancalagon (young adult...)

Challenge twelve: matchmaking. Vote for who should marry Nienor. You may vote to keep her single. Also vote for an evictee.

This means two votes are required, one to marry Nienor, one to go: eg

++MABLUNG, ++ARIEN