[Cuthalion]

Gil-galad, Elendil...they shone like stars, like white foam on a cresting wave, they flung themselves against the walls of the on-rushing enemy and for a time, they prevailed. Then, like the cliff upon which all waves break asunder, there stood Sauron. Before him went shadow and fear, fighting for him with far better result than any army. Men fled from his presence, leaving only the Elves to stand agianst him, smouldering with their ancient hatred for both he and his Master...

While the Elves valiantly fought this most accursed evil, Melost and Arthain were fighting side by side, along with Dorlas and Thelian. The Elves all along the battlefield shone with the living flame that dwelt in all of them and the Men near them took heart and took up the battle-cries of their king. The comrades stood back to back and their sword-arms rose and fell together to create an impenetrable wall of protection and death. The sun rose to her zenith, then began the long descent. Dorlas fell, Khalad fell, embraced at last by the death that would cleanse his soul. Thelian and Arthain cried out in anger and grief as Dorlas met his end on the end of an orc's pike. Thelian slashed through the wood and gutted the foul creature all in one smooth movement. With tears of rage and loss shining in his eyes, he threw a last despairing look at Melost, then gave himself to the battle rage within him. He was not seen alive again.


After what seemed like ages, the battle where they fought seemed to ebb, just as Melost felt Arthain faltering at his back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Melost slipped a blood soaked arm under Arthain's and helped him to a spot of ground less gore-covered than the rest and let him collapse. Melost looked around to make sure their absence was not going to cause more difficulty for the soldiers still fighting, then went down on one knee beside Arthain. Slow tears trickled down the man's cheek as he thought of Dorlas, of the youth that would now not grow into a man. He looked up into the eyes of Melost, then leaned against him. "Is this worth it? What if we save Middle Earth and there are none left to see it?" Melost embraced his friend. "I grieve for us both, Arthain. Our friends and kin are falling like the leaves of autumn, yet still those that remain hold strong." He glanced down and noticed that Arthain had a wound in his left leg. "When did this happen?" he asked, his voice tight as he ripped cloth from his sweat-stained undershirt. He tied it tightly over the wound as Arthain laughed drily. "Thank you, mellon! You have saved me to fight just that much longer." Melost looked at him in all seriousness. "You have no understanding of the words you have just uttered."

From afar off, there came the sound of great mourning. "The Kings have fallen!" Melost sprang to his feet with a cry of disbelief and Arthain scrambled to his feet. "No...no...not Gil-galad..." Melost knew then that his fate was sealed. He looked and saw the minions of evil rejoicing all along the line and he snarled, his hand gripping his sword until the knuckles were white. Then he saw him, an archer hidden in the rocks nearby, his bow drawn, arrow about to be loosed. Without a thought Melost thrust Arthain behind him and took the arrow in the chest, it was followed by a crossbow bolt in his right shoulder. He stood still as the pain flared, then died, then he began to advance.

This is what it is to die...I think of you now...now that I can finally allow myself. I see you as I first saw you. hair gleaming in the sun, a sight more beautiful than all the jewels of Feanor's crafting. beautiful...and forever beyond my reach now. I will die and you will never know how I loved you. With an otherworldly calm, Melost strode into the line. He had saved Arthain, he had taken the arrows meant for him and now there nothing left to do but die. He was soon obliged, for as he hewed down enemy upon enemy, he felt his life ebbing, his rhythm slower now. Then a faint voice that called his name over and over. He glanced up and saw there a man of enormous height. In his hand was a mace, which Melost tried to deflect as it came at him, with agonising slowness. His sword arm was shattered as the massive blow landed and the return swing crushed in his side. He fell screaming.

"Melost, Melost..." Is it raining? Is it night? Who are you that calls my name? Mandos?" Arthain held Melost's broken body in his arms as he lay wandering. "Sauron is gone, Melost...we have won, he is gone..." His voice broke, what did it matter now. His best friend was dying, slowly drowning in his own blood and there was nothing he could do. A man ran up and and crouched next to them, handed them a waterskin and ran on. A few drops of water Arthain trickled over Melost's lips, then gasped as he saw his tongue slide out to lick at them weakly. "Melost?" Sightless eyes sought his own. "Arthain?" he rasped, then began to cough. Arthain held him as tightly as he dared, knowing the pain he must be experiencing. "Shhhh, no words..." Melost shook his head. "Arthain...I...know what you have hidden from me. I know that you got her with child. I...I want you to go to her. Tell her..." He coughed again, this time bright blood followed. "I love her...as I love you...Mandos calls to me, yet still I wish to remain. Here...withyou..." He raised his hand to Arthain's face and felt there the tears that flowed unchecked. A tear slid down his own cheek even as the final darkness took him and he slipped away. Arthain bowed his head and sobbed as he sat there on the battlefield, rocking the body that no longer held his friend.