This imagine was requested by @Fili_Oakenshield; Imagine Maedhros being told about the death of Fingon after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

I just finished reading the Silmarillion and I found that there is a lot of detail about this war, so I will give it my own twist in this imagine. I hope you enjoy and that it is what you pictured it to be when you requested it! I'm sorry it is so long but like I said, there was a lot of information and I felt like I needed to give more information about the battle and all...

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'We have been betrayed' Maedhros said. They were surrounded by a grand army. As far as he could see, there were wolves, balrogs and orc's. 'How do you know my lord?' an elf-guard asked. 'Look around you. We have been trapped by an army containing multiple creatures of different races. This was planned. They knew we were coming.' 'What do we do now?' Maedhros smiled, holding his sword in his hand. 'Now, we fight.' The first balrogs came running their way, their axes ready to cause damage. Maedhros had pulled his dark red hair back in a high pony tail so that it wouldn't be in his face during the fight.

He knew that they were few in number and they stood little chance against their enemy. Their should have been more of them, if only Fëanor had handled things differently in the past... However, that was not his main worry right now. The dragons were feared and couldn't be defeated easily. It only made it worse that they were so few in number. Maedhros tried to think of a plan while the swords and axes met each other many times around him. He saw his kin fall, trying to get to them in time. There were so many of them that he couldn't count.

But everyone knew they were outnumbered. Maedhros wasn't sure who had been the spy, or spies, but their enemy had known they were coming. He should have seen it coming. He had lead his faithful elves into the hands of their waiting enemy. If only he wasn't bound to the Oath of Fëanor, he might have more help from the other elves. Orodreth and Doriath might have send help if they had been treated differently. Thankfully, the Naugrim had supported him and were fighting side by side with the elves. Their weapons came in handy, no one was unarmed because of them. Men had joined his army as well. Still, they had no chance of winning this battle if the enemy kept it up like this.

Blood was dripping from the tip of his sword. Many balrogs and orc's lay scattered on the battle field, together with elves and some dwarves. It was blood well spilled. It was for a good cause. Maedhros could only hope that Fingon had more luck then him. He was supposed to come from the west and their armies would be united against the enemy. That is, if all went well.

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Fingon was waiting at Hithlum, ready to lead his army into war. They would wait for the signal before they would leave and join his friend' army. Maedhros was supposed to join them. Until then, Fingon and his army would wait. 'My lord, look!' an elf said. Fingon came closer to the edge of the wall and saw what the elf was pointing at. There, in the distance, lay Thangorodrim. There was a dark cloud about it and a black smoke came up. Fingon smiled. Their challenge had been accepted by Morgoth. Now, they only had to wait for the other army before they could attack. Their enemy knew they were coming.

Fingon felt uneasy. By now, he should have seen signs of his friend's army. Yet, there was nothing. They should have been here already, or he should have already seen them coming. What was keeping them? What Fingon didn't know was that Maedhros was hindered on his path. They hadn't foreseen the enemy knowing of their plan. During the waiting for his friend, the army of Turgon joined them, bringing an army of ten thousand strong with them. His heart was uplifted when he saw this. At least, they had a large enemy who could defeat their enemy, he thought. 'Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë! (The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!')

But Morgoth knew of their plan and had already send an army to Hihtlum after he had sent an army towards Maedhros to slow them down. He wouldn't give them the chance to join each other. He would attack when they were still alone, and weak. The elves saw the army coming but didn't attack them. They were waiting for their leader to lead the attack, but it didn't come. Fingon was waiting for Maedhros to arrive, like they had agreed on. He wouldn't disobey his friend and change the plans. He could be here any minute now. The Captain of Morgoth didn't attack either. It was his job to lure the elves out of their hiding place.

They tried to taunt the elves, but they didn't come. So the Captain sent out riders with tokens of parley, and they rode close to the elves. They brought Gelmir, son of Guilin, with them. If they didn't reply to their taunts, then maybe they would reply if they murdured their kin, one by one. 'We have many more at our home. When we go back, we will kill all of them.' They hewed off Gelmir' hands and feet. The elves watched this crime with clenched teeth. Gelmir was screaming for mercy, but it never came. He was now sitting on his knees on the ground, with the two orc's surrounding him. One of them pulled his head back by his hair while the other had a wicked grin on his lips.

Before Fingon could say anything did the orc lift his mace and hewed Gelmir's head off. Without looking back at the elves, the orc's left and rode back towards their leader. Gwindor of Nargothrond, the brother of Gelmir, had watched it all and didn't want to wait any longer for the army of Maedhros. A hatred had managed to climb into his heart and drove him towards the orc's. Many riders followed him into battle. They slew the two orc's who had killed Gelmir and continued on their way. No one could have been able to calm Gwindor down at that time. Fingon watched all this from the upper wall.

'It is time we fight, we have waited long enough' he said and put his white helm on and sounded his trumpets. In front of them, Gwindor was making fast ground and even managed to burst through the Gate. He would have his revenge on his brother. Fingon and the riders who followed him had trouble to make their way through. They fought hard and fierce but didn't have the same rage built in them as Gwindor had felt in his heart. The orc's were keeping them from joining the others. Fingon was actually losing ground and was driven further back to Hithlum with every stroke of an orc's blade. He knew he was losing this battle, but he wouldn't give up. If only Maedhros would come to their aid soon.

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And help finally came a few days later. They were still fighting fierce when Fingon looked up, hearing the trumpets of Maedhros. They were coming from the east and he could see the banners from afar. The orc's were now loosing ground and all seemed to go well. The elves had renewed hope when Maedhros finally joined their army. But Morgoth wouldn't give in that easily. He send more wolves, wolfriders, Balrogs and dragons and... Glaurung. Fingon hold his breath for a moment when he saw him. Glaurung was the father of dragons, and many followed him into battle. How were they supposed to defeat this beast?

The hope that had just settles itself in his heart was smashed to pieces when the dragon unleashed his fire. In that hour, man turned against their alliance and attacked the rear of the sons of Fëanor. Maglor was able to kill the leader of treason but soon, the elves of Maedhros were surrounded on three sides. They fled everywhere, trying to safe their own lives. Maedhros and Maglor kept fighting side by side and were surrounded by Naugrim who fought side by side with them. If it hadn't been for the dwarves, the sons of Fëanor surely would have been killed. Luckily, the Naugrim stayed by their side and the brothers made it out of battle with just wounds.

The Dwarves of Belegost withstood fire more hardily then the other species and were able to fight against the dragons. Azaghâl, the leader of the Dwarves of Belegost, managed to wound the dragon Glaurung by driving a knife into his belly. The great dragon fled from the battle, and the other serpents followed him. The Dwarves were mourning over their leader and carried him away. They walked slowly and were singing in deep voices like the funeral had already begun. They didn't pay any more attention to their foes and no one tried to stop them.

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Maedhros had been carried back by the dwarves so that they may look after his wounds. He was fatally wounded but still alert. Maglor had left his side some time ago to look if he could help the elves in their fight. He was hurt also, but not as bad as Maedhros. After making sure his brother would survive, he left. Maedhros' thoughts went to Fingon. Hopefully he would survive this battle and live to tell him what had happened in the days he had not been there by his side. He prayed for his friend to live. He would give anything to fight by his side if only he could. The dwarves looked after him and tried to keep him down on the make shift bed.

He would try to get up every once in a while, stating he was fine and needed to look after his kin. With the same power, they pushed him back on the bed and gave him more calming medicine. They said he needed rest, he wouldn't be of any use if he got himself slayed in battle right now. But that was exactly what Maedhros thought he deserved. He should have known better then to tell his plans to all of his kin. He should have kept it between him and Fingon. Maybe the spies wouldn't have learned about their plans that way. Maybe they could have prevented anyone from finding out and they could have surprised their enemy. But it was too late for that now.

In the evening, Maglor returned to his side. He wore a grim expression, thanking the dwarves for helping his brother and asking them to leave the room. 'What is wrong brother?' Maedhros asked as the last dwarf went out of the room, mumbling something about ungrateful elves. He tried to stand up when he felt a fierce pain in his side. Maedhros felt back on the bed, his fall was only slightly diminished by Maglor grabbing his arm and carefully helping him down on the bed. 'You should rest some more brother. You are not fully recovered yet' Maglor said. 'Where is Fingon?' Maedhros asked.

He would rest and stay in bed calmly if he knew his friend was alright. Until then, he would try to find out what had happened. Maglor knew. 'You have to promise me you won't charge off to battle right away, you don't...' Maglor started but was cut off by his brother. 'What happened Maglor?' he asked. Maedhros wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Surely his brother would have already told him what had happened if Fingon was alive and well. He didn't want to hear that something had happened to his old friend, but he had to know. 'The Lord of Balrogs surprised them. They were driven apart and couldn't come to each other' aid' Maglor began to explain.

Maglor had to wait a moment before he could go on. He knew this would break his brother' heart. Their friendship had been strong and if only the orc's hadn't delayed them... 'Fingon was all alone when Gothmog faced him. He stood his ground and fought hard, but he didn't see the other Balrog coming from behind.' Maedhros closed his eyes as he let the information sink in. Fingon didn't have a chance to protect himself. If only he, Maedhros, would have been there by his side. He shouldn't have been lying here. He should have been out there, fighting along with his kin. His wounds would have hurt, but he would have endured them like it was expected of him.

'If there is anything I can do...' Maglor started. Maedhros raised his hand, silencing him. He turned his face away from his brother, trying to keep the tears to himself. But Maglor had already seen them in the corner of his brother' eyes. He sighed silently and walked towards the door. 'I will leave you now in your own sorrow, but know that I am here for you if you need me.' Maglor opened the door and left Maedhros alone. He wouldn't let the tears come and instead he forced them away. An anger so fierce that it was nothing compared to dragon fire built itself in Maedhros' heart. The name of 'Gothmog' would stay there until the day he would revenge his old friend. And that day would come, he promised himself.