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Library: Unsung


Author: jarlaxle
Date:Jul 8 2011

This is a story from the age of Valar, from of both great heroes and great
evil. Not all stories get told and seldom are praises sung for real heroes...

Empty halls echoed with the far away screams, almost inaudible here, at the
depths of dwarven built citadel. 'Quickly now and hold the small ones close.'
he said in guarded voice as
he led his little group of ragtag survivors deeper in hope to guide them to
Scattered equipment and abandoned everyday items lay everywhere, their owners
had grabbed only the most vital things with them when they fled. Group wound
its way swiftly through the halls and hallways, navigating with familiar ease
despite the amount of 
stress and lead-heavy weight on every ones heart.

Battle on the higher levels had almost ceased now, its horrors still vivid in
young elfs mind.
Stench of acrid black smoke still stung in his eyes and nose. The smell of
burning flesh and the image of his people and lifelong friends dying a too
fresh memory yet to be realized.
Now was no time for contemplating the dead as he had to get this group out of
harms way. Aelenars fellow guardsmen had either vanished during the fighting
or perished quickly before the unimaginably terrible foe.
Feel of his sword in his hand gave him slight comfort even if he knew it was
of little use now. Aelenars close friend Finduilas had vanished from his side
during battle and rumours told the Mormegil himself had frozen in fear at
encounter of the wyrm.
What hope could they have against these kinds of odds.

He was guiding the twenty women and children into smaller hallway to the left
when suddenly there was a great grating sound like massive rocks grinding
together. Sound grew louder and then came a thunderous cracking sound of stone
structure crashing down. 
People turned to watch back toward the end of the hall where a huge billowing
cloud of rockdust was rolling towards them. 'Dont linger! Run!', Aelenar cried
and ushered group deeper into the small hallway. He grabbed young Nemereth 
by the shoulder when she passed and said 'Take them to the hidden exit, the
one where we used to play hide and seek in when we were small'. Nemereth
watched him for a few short seconds, 
then nodded in comprehension, gave his arm a little squeeze and was off with
the group deeper into the hallway.

Aelenar turned back towards the hall and stood watching as the dust was
settling slowly. Sounds of movement and sobs grew faint behind him but he knew
the group was still too close to danger. 
Too far from the exit, which would lead them out of their home which had
become a tomb for so many. Grating sound started again and in the dust a shape
moved. Aelenars heart skipped few beats when a huge head of the wyrm came out
of the mist.
It seemed a bit confused about its whereabouts after crashing through floors
of multiple levels. Head turned slowly from left to right as if it was
searching for something or someone. Then it belched a thick black cloud 
of smoke and its eyes focused into tight malicious slits. With terrible
casuality it turned its head directly towards Aelenar. So great was the hatred
in the wyrms eyes that Aelenar involuntarily took a step backwards. Wyrm then
spoke, a sly smugness 
dripping from its voice, 'Well, what have we here. Another son of Orodreth to
meet his end? Speak your name elf.'

Aelenar knew he had to give the people more time, lest the wyrm caught scent
of them and all would be lost. He steeled himself and said 'You are not worthy
of knowing my name, worm of Angband. But know this, Orodreths brethen are
beyond your reach'.
He sensed his doom was near and he didnt want the wyrm to have pleasure of
thinking it found Orodreths relative so he continued 'I am Aelenar, son of
Aelen, Orodreths advisor and close friend and with pride I shall 
defend these halls until my death.' Wyrm seemed to think for a moment and with
a wicked grin it gave a grating sound resembling a chuckle. 'Know then, son of
Aelen, before you die. Orodreths brethen have fallen, his line ceased.
Orodreth and the young 
Finduilas begged for mercy on their knees while their friends burned'. 'You
lie...' Aelenar said, almost too quiet to hear. Wyrm stared at him and reveled
in the destruction it had caused. Its eyes glowed with malicious fire. 
It inhaled deeply and closed its eyes, preparing to unleash fire once more.
With a great crack a massive block of stone came loose when a close-by pillar
crumbled. Stone hit the wyrm on the side and it let out a terrible screaming
Aelenars spirits lifted when he saw the wyrm suddenly hurt. He grabbed his
sword tight and charged towards the wyrm, which was turning its massive bulk
around trying to disentangle itself from the rubble. 
'You lie!' he shouted and run and lifted the sword of this fathers up high.
Thus came the end of Aelenar, son of Aelen, and the line of elves close to

Survivors emerged an hour later from the small ravine by a mountain stream and
headed deep into the surrounding forests. Nargothrond was no longer place for
elf or man. Just a grave of heroes unsung.