Middle-Earth: Kaen, Lord of Light

When the golden light of sunset poured over the valley of Alcarosto, the battle at last was done.

Kaen Eowenríel stood upon the Mountain of the Sacred Tree and gazed down. The valley was strewn with corpses and flickering campfires. Elves of the Light and Men stood together in the gloom, embracing, laughing, weeping. Yet in Kaen's heart there was little joy, for the price of this victory was far too great.

Ingwion came to stand at his side. He was still weak, but the light had returned to his eyes. "Your Majesty," he said quietly, "you have saved Laurenandë. The Vanyar will remember this grace for as long as our stars endure."

Kaen shook his head. "This is not my doing alone. It is the fruit of all the kindreds of the Light fighting side by side."

His gaze wandered down the slope and found Cardilaman among the wounded. Her white gown was stained with blood and ash, but nothing could hide the holiness and resolve that clung to her like starlight. She looked up for a moment toward the Sacred Tree's height, and her eyes met Kaen's. Color rushed into her face and she lowered her head at once.

Ingwion noted the small scene and a flicker of quiet amusement passed through his eyes. He said nothing, but in his heart he knew that the bond between the Vanyar and Eowenría had only just begun.

...

"Your Majesty."

Prince Théoden of Rohan and General Melondel of Gondor came forward. Kaen inclined his head in greeting, and Ingwionë gave them words of thanks for the succor they had brought.

After some speech concerning the wounded and the dead, Kaen said, "The Vanyar have paid dearly in this war, yet I must still invite you to join me in the siege of Lond Daer. My eyes have already seen the fleet of Lindon upon the sea. There are many enemies still lurking there."

"Then I shall not refuse," Ingwion answered at once. "I will lead five thousand warriors to that field, and we will avenge the spirits who fell in this battle."

...

At the harbor of Lond Daer the stench of blood mingled with the salt of the sea, forming a reek that turned the stomach.

When the Elven fleet of Lindon closed the bay, sealing every way out, the dark creatures who had fled into the port at last understood that they had run into a vast trap. sOME sixty thousand pirates, twenty thousand Haradrim, and the shattered remnant that had escaped from Laurenandë, more than one hundred, were now penned within that narrow harbor, prey caught in a stone jar.

"We are surrounded!" a pirate captain screamed, "Better to fight our way out than starve like rats in a hole!"

His cry found eager ears. Pirates and Haradrim cobbled together a ragged assault force and hurled themselves toward the cliffs on the western side of the port, hoping to break through there. They had scarcely reached halfway up when arrows whispered out of the rocks.

"Loose," said the commander of the shadow-wardens, his voice cold.

Five thousand arrows fell like a storm, and those who led the charge were riddled where they stood. One by one, all along the slope, the enemy toppled and rolled back down the hillside, leaving the rocks splashed red.

Within the harbor the situation worsened with each hour. After the King's Guard cut off the water, the dark creatures began to fight among themselves for the last barrels of fresh water and scraps of food. For half a sack of moldy bread, pirates and Haradrim turned their blades on one another, screaming and grappling in the mud.

"This is the result His Majesty Kaen desired," said King Elurín quietly. He stood beside him, his gaze cool as he watched the madness in the port below. "Darkness is always so. Once it loses a common enemy, it turns upon itself and devours its own."

Around the harbor Legolas and Tauriel had already drawn a net so tight that not even a shadow could slip through. The Caladhîn archers held every height, their bows strung and ready, and the Sindar heavy infantry waited in dense ranks at the foot of the hills, prepared for the final word to advance.

...

On the third morning Kaen's command came at last.

"Begin the assault."

A signal flare burst over the harbor, bright as a fire-flower in the grey sky. The fleet of Lindon struck first. Their engines hurled flaming stones into the port, and soon the shabby huts and piled cargo along the quays were burning, smoke rising in thick pillars.

"Charge!" cried Legolas, drawing his sword, and he went first over the cliff edge, rushing down the slope.

The Elven host poured in like a tide of green, flooding the harbor streets. The Caladhîn bowstrings thrummed, and their arrows were so sure that each snap of the string meant another foe falling. The Sindar heavy infantry advanced in a great wedge, splitting the panicked enemy into broken clusters and cutting them down one after another.

Tauriel's twin blades flashed silver in the light. She moved through the press like a hunting cat, graceful and deadly. Her eyes sought always the pirate captains and the Harad priests, and each time her swords flashed, a guilty life was ended and another knot of resistance fell silent.

The dark creatures within the harbor sank into complete despair. There was no ordered resistance, only scattered attempts to flee down streets already filled with fire and steel. In the end they were hunted and slain by the Elven host wherever they tried to hide.

Out upon the sea floated bodies and burning wreckage. The water had turned a murky red.

When at last the fighting ceased, the whole of Lond Daer was nothing but ruin. One hundred of the dark host had perished, not one escaping. Their corpses were heaped together and soaked in oil, then set alight. Thick black smoke coiled up from the harbor and hung over it like a vast, unmoving storm-cloud.

...

Kaen stood on the highest point above the port and looked down upon the burning waste. There was no savor of vengeance in him, only a heavy weariness. He knew that though this victory shone bright, the cost of it was terrible, measured in the lives of Elves and Men who would never again walk under the sky.

Legolas came to him. Their armor was stained with grime and blood, but they stood straight as spears. "Your Majesty," Legolas said, "Lond Daer is cleared. What shall we do next?"

Kaen looked northward, toward the distant realm of Eowenría. "The war is not ended," he answered. "Sauron's main strength dwells still in Mordor. We must be ready to face a harsher war yet."

He paused, then went on. "Minhiriath, Laurenandë, and Nargothrond must rebuild their defenses without delay. The Sacred Trees in those lands must be guarded with all care."

"Yes," said Legolas and Tauriel together.

As the sun sank in the west, the Elven host began to withdraw from Lond Daer. They took their wounded and what spoils were useful, and turned their steps toward the forest of Minhiriath.

Kaen walked at the rear of the column. At the edge of the hills he looked back once at the burning ruins of the harbor and made a silent vow in his heart that such a tragedy must never be allowed to come to pass again.

...

So the war of the western lands came at last to its end. With the aid of Eowenría, the Elves of the Light had beaten back the inrush of darkness and won a place of their own in Middle-earth. Minhiriath, Laurenandë, and Nargothrond stood like three fair stars upon the western soil, shining with a hopeful light.

Yet all knew that this was only a breathing space. The shadow of Mordor still lay over the eastern sky of Middle-earth, and Sauron's strength was ever growing. Many wars lay yet ahead. Their long struggle had only just begun.

...

On the road back to Eowenría, Kaen sat in a carriage and watched the land slip past the window. In his hand he held a star-shaped badge, the one Cardilaman had secretly pressed into his palm when they parted. A faint fragrance lingered upon it and brought to his mind the Vanyar princess with the golden hair and eyes like stars.

"My lord," came Reger's voice, breaking his thoughts. "Envoys from Gondor and Rohan have arrived. They wish to speak with us about a common defense against Mordor."

Kaen closed his fingers around the badge and put it away. His gaze sharpened like drawn steel. "Bring them to Elarothiel," he said. "Tell them that the alliance of the peoples of the Light must begin."

The carriage rolled on toward the north, toward Eowenría. The wheels rattled over stone and earth, as if beating out the first notes of a prelude to some greater war to come.

The fate of Middle-earth now lay in the hands of these brave warriors, and their tale was not yet ended. Their story would go on being written...

(End of Book)

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T/N:

The author decided to end the story here. I tried to continue writing the story myself, but the lore is too deep for me to provide quality content in future chapters. So, I guess this is how it ends. Thank you for reading, and I'm really sorry the story has to end this way.