~In Ossiriand, Thranduil faces his own problems; when the Dark Lord releases his most deadly weapon nobody is safe.~

oOo

War of Wrath

Oropher shut the door to his study and locked it carefully, putting the key on its chain over his head. "Good news, son."

Thranduil did not return his smile. He hated the object behind that door.

"An army has arrived from Valinor," Oropher continued. "Thousands of elves led by Valar and Maiar. Did I not tell you it would be so? And you wanted to run to the mountains and beg Gil-galad to let us in with the tail behind our legs. Tsk tsk. You need to learn to trust your adar."

His words caught Thranduil's interest despite the questionable source of his information. "The Valar came?"

"Aye, aye, they did! Do pay attention. The host is walking towards Morgoth's realm and wipes out every orc and balrog in its path. And talking of wiping out orcs; the ones that came south are all gone now. I did not see this myself but Maedhros tells me the arrival of the Aman army lured away the balrogs, and then the ents stepped forward and killed the remaining orcs and wargs. The tree-herders fear only fire."

Thranduil thought of Doriath that had been cut down and burned to a wasteland. There had sadly been no ents there to protect it.

Not that it mattered; the lands would drown.

"Was Eärendil and Elwing on the ships?" he asked.

"How should I know? I told you many times I cannot see details in my visions."

"How is the colony, then? Are they safe?" He braced himself for the expected reaction.

Oropher's cheerful features immediately clouded over. "Will you ever cease nagging me about the colony? Who cares about a bunch of mutineers and thieves?"

"I do."

"Well, stop it."

"Are they safe?" he insisted.

"Aye, they are safe. Now be quiet and let me think. What should we do with this information? You must tell the people, of course; it will cheer them up. But should we expand to the west now that the Mouths of Sirion is freed? We could replenish our sea salt stores and bring back fish. I have not had a decent meal of fish for years; the freshwater ones are not nearly as tasty."

Thranduil did not reply. How could Oropher think about food now? If the promised host had arrived from Valinor, then the other prophecies may be close to fulfilment. The lands would sink and the people's worldly goods with them.

They had to leave.

But there was no use telling his father that; he had already tried to persuade him countless times. It would only lead to a quarrel, or even a beating if Oropher was in a bad mood.

Originally, when Oropher discovered the Haven refugees had left, he had meant to follow them with all the speed they could muster, sending warriors ahead on horseback to overtake them and demand they return the stolen goods. But first he must send a speedy messenger north to ascertain free passage through the Fëanorians' realm.

The messenger returned with a missive that was only for the king's ears, after which Oropher suddenly became firmly convinced Ossiriand was perfectly safe and they need not hurry anywhere.

When Thranduil confusedly asked how he was so sure about that, his reply was a bit vague. "Maedhros and Maglor have ways to know the orcs remain near the coast and show no sign of turning hither. Our realm is not threatened in any way. Let the traitors huddle in the mountains in poverty; we will stay here and continue our lives in comfort and abundance for as long as possible."

After that, Oropher often disappeared into his study and stayed increasingly longer. He also got a lock installed. Each time he emerged, he shared news about what happened in the world, information he could not possibly know. He claimed he received letters from the Fëanorians – but how? There were no birds arriving, no riders.

Thranduil had a bad feeling about his father's new, strange knowledge, and when he was finally let in on the secret his misgivings increased. That had been perhaps half a year afterwards, when unrest stirred in the realm; Amroth in particular was not happy with the decision to stay behind.

"I need you to stifle this firmly and efficiently," Oropher had said. "Convince your friend I know what I am doing and this is for the best."

"How can I convince him when I am not convinced myself?"

Oropher's eyes narrowed. "Do not test me. You promised me loyalty."

Thranduil changed tactics. "I am loyal. I just meant it is easier to persuade someone when you believe what you say, and in this case I don't know enough. You say the orcs linger near the coast and that Maedhros somehow 'saw' this. How? How did he see it, and how did he tell you?"

Oropher was silent for a few moments, forehead creasing. Then he suddenly smiled. "I might as well show you. Come!" He unlocked the door and led Thranduil to his desk, where a silk cloth covered a round object. "Remember how that elleth you are married to can communicate through water? Fëanor once invented a similar way to talk over long distances." He pulled off the cloth, revealing a dark globe with a swirling mist within. "This is a seeing-stone – a palantír. It tells me everything I need to know."

His father proudly explained how Maedhros had trusted him with one of his father's valuable stones and that they communicated through it regularly now. But that was not all the palantír could do, it was also possible to use it to see what was happening in the world, a skill Maedhros had mastered over the years and that Oropher was just beginning to learn.

Thranduil stared at the item with an ominous feeling. He did not like the globe at all. It was made by Fëanor, the one who also created the Silmarils that had led to so much disaster, and whose oath was the reason his sons had destroyed Doriath and Haven.

Then a thought struck him: "Was that how Fëanor's sons found out Elwing had a Silmaril?"

Oropher looked surprised briefly, but then he grinned widely. "Very likely! Good point."

"Can you see the mountains with this?" Thranduil was becoming cautiously curious despite himself.

"Absolutely. I can see the whole of Beleriand; the coast, the mainlands, the mountains – even Morgoth's realm. But no details. Maedhros has the master-stone which is more powerful."

"Are they well?"

"Maedhros and Maglor? Of course, why wouldn't they be?"

"I meant the people in the mountains. Gil-galad, Círdan... their followers."

Oropher frowned. "There is a small town up there now, which I assume is theirs, but that is of no moment; those traitors may live or die, I do not care."

In the years that had passed since he was first shown the palantír, Thranduil often asked about that mountain town, braving his father's anger again and again. He could not stop worrying or caring about his wife and nothing Oropher said or did would change that.

And now he did it again.

"You said the colony is safe, but can you find out what Gil-galad will do now that the Valar have come? Will he join their host?" He prayed the answer was no; he wanted Aerneth far away from battle.

"How many times must I tell you that I. Cannot. See. Details!"

"But Maedhros can. Ask him. Please."

"I will do no such thing. If Maedhros is interested in their whereabouts he will let me know."

Thranduil wanted to shake Oropher and force him to obey but of course that was impossible. His oath held him back.

He would just have to wait and see.

But unfortunately, in this matter he was for once not patient. He could not wait.

oOo

Thanks to the palantír Oropher could follow the Host of the Valar's journey from the Falas to the ruins of Nargothrond, crossing the Sirion at Teiglin, and continuing north. He described their advance to Thranduil, who in turn brought the news to the people. Calming them, easing their worries. Help had come to Beleriand at last! Morgoth would be defeated soon and then they would be free. Perhaps even able to return to Doriath and restore the forest.

When the lands sank – or if they did, for according to Oropher and Fëanor's sons the prophecies may have been worst case scenarios that would not come to pass – they would have plenty of time to withdraw to the mountains.

Thranduil did not believe the latter part but was powerless to do anything about it. Perhaps it was his fate to drown like his mother.

Everything went smoothly for the host until it reached the Pass of Sirion. Now it became evident why the orcs and balrogs had been so easy to chase away at first: it must have been a strategic retreat. Morgoth's full strength had gathered in the narrow mountain pass and along the edge of the deforested Neldoreth and Doriath, hiding behind a miles wide, tall palisade that had towers at even distances, and with a deep moat in front where they had diverted the river Sirion to their benefit. In addition, according to Maedhros who could see more details with his master-palantír, Morgoth's lieutenant Sauron had returned to the tower at Tol Sirion with his army of werewolves who now patrolled the border.

The enemy had been allowed to roam central Beleriand freely for years and had taken advantage of that to fortify themselves. Even for a host led by two Valar and a Maia, getting through such a defence could take a while.

At first Oropher watched the two armies daily, observing the attackers dig trenches and fortifications, and testing the defenders' strength with repeated skirmishes along the border, but after a while when no progress was made he grew bored of the whole thing. Even if he wanted to – which he did not – he could not have aided the host with Doriath in between, walled in and swarming with orcs and balrogs.

Hence, life in Ossiriand went on peacefully as months turned into years, and years turned into decades, and the siege became no more than background noise. An event happening far away that did not affect them.

Thranduil hated it. He could not stand the waiting, not knowing how the war would go, and it felt wrong to live so comfortably while others risked their lives to end the Dark Lord's reign. His only consolation was that his wife must be equally cut off from the battle as him; she was still safe.

To pass the time and get other things to think about, Thranduil kept himself busy. He hunted in Taur im Duinath and fished in the Gelion, helped Amroth with his pigs and Galion with his wine, he exercised and practised fencing, he ordered a new harp after the one he lost in Doriath and took up singing again to his father's delight. He joined an expedition to the ruins of Haven and brought back salt, seal meat and plenty of fish. He joined another expedition, this one south along the Gelion, and when they discovered Círdan's abandoned ship he brought a workforce down to bring it all the way to his home with felled logs as wheels in the places where the river was too shallow.

Together with his old friends Amroth and Medlin he mended the ship and sewed a sail to it, arguing that when the lands sank they could use it to save themselves. Oropher laughed at him but allowed 'his paranoiac whims'.

Then at last something changed, ending the standstill in the north. The Host of the Valar was aided by an unlikely ally: humans from Hithlum. They had been thralls under the The Easterlings for almost a century, ever since the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, but when they heard the Valar had sent help it must have strengthened them enough to start a rebellion. Over a period of many years they built up a resistance, until they could overthrow their masters and escape south through the mountains on secret paths.

Excited, Oropher began to use the palantír daily again. He watched as the Host of the Valar used the new passage. Guided by humans, they sneaked part of their strength into Hithlum, finishing what their new allies began and wiping the area clear, before making a long circular move through Mithrim and across the mountains to come at the enemy from behind.

Attacked on two fronts, Morgoth's massive strength began to waver at last. The balrogs were driven back, and all the orcs, wargs, and werewolves followed suit, fleeing across the brown wasteland of the Anfauglith desert.

Over forty years after they landed, the Host of the Valar arrived at Angband and fought a final battle outside Morgoth's gates. There the last foes were slain, and a defeated Sauron only just managed to retreat into the fortress.

Soon the Dark Lord and his servant would be no more either.

Or so they thought.

oOo

The door to Oropher's study slammed open. Face pale as ash, he bumped forcibly into Thranduil who was waiting outside.

"Dragons. He has released dragons! A new kind! With wings!" The words tumbled out of his mouth.

Tendrils of icy dread squeezed Thranduil's heart as his mind filled with memories of fire and reeking, scaly reptile skin. He would never forget Glaurung, father of dragons. Had he sired winged children before Túrin killed him?

"They are flying south. Hither! More than I could count! We must run to the mountains at once. Sound the signal!"

Thranduil shook himself out of the numbing panic, dashing away to do as told. They must flee. But not by ship, the water was too shallow. And they did not have horses for everyone.

Fuck. Why had they waited? Why had they lingered here, exposed, an easy target for a flying opponent?

Dark thoughts churned in his mind as he worked mechanically; gathering the people, readying the horses, making sure everyone was there, hurrying them over the bridge and to the road north. Oropher had already left, claiming he must alert Maedhros and hence needed the swiftest horse.

As if Fëanor's sons had not seen it themselves in their palantíri.

Thranduil saw the dragons too now. Still many leagues away, yet clearly visible in the sky. Enormous. Terrifying. Fast.

In the west, Taur im Duinath erupted in flames; the forest where he used to hunt. Had everyone left yet? He must leave too.

His belongings! The white gems and Aerneth's ring. He could not lose them.

He knew it was irrational to care about stupid keepsakes when his life was at risk, but did it anyway. Turning on the spot, he scurried back up to his house, cursing Amdír for deciding to build the city on talans.

He turned his clothes chest over. Where was it? There. He picked up an ornate box and half climbed, half fell back down the stairs.

And then he ran.

A shadow passed over the sun, blocking out all light. The smell was sickening.

"Run!" boomed a voice from the sky, deep and horrible and full of mirth. "Run, little elves! It will make avenging my father all the more enjoyable."

The monster opened a maw larger than a horse, and deep inside an amber glow grew brighter.

With searing flames filling the sky, Thranduil dove headfirst into the Gelion. Far above, the water began to boil.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

I thought I could fit the war into one chapter but there was a lot to cover... And the greatest war in the history of Middle-earth should not be rushed. To be continued!

About who fought in the War of Wrath: some believe Círdan and other elves of Beleriand did, but the Silmarillion says "of the march of the Host of the Valar to the north of Middle-earth little is said in any tale; for among them went none of those Elves who had dwelt and suffered in the Hither Lands", which seems pretty clear to me they didn't, at least not together with the Host of the Valar.

That they were instead hiding in Ered Luin (the Blue Mountains) is my own invention, but I think it makes sense because later in the beginning of the Second Age they will be living in Lindon just west of these mountains.

For you who like maps, here is one showing where I've placed the colony:

The red dot indicates the approximate location of Aerneth's colony, the blue where Oropher's realm was. The right map shows what was left after the War of Wrath ended.

Image Credits:

Chapter pic: Screenshot from the Lord of the Rings movies. 

Maps: John Howe, Tolkien Gateway