9 | Backstabber

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"....He seized Maeglin by that hand that held the knife and broke the arm with the wrench, and then taking him by the middle leapt with him upon the walls, and flung him far out. Great was the fall of his body, and it smote Amon Gwareth three times ere it pitched in the midmost of the flames; and the name of Maeglin has gone out in shame from among Eldar and Noldor."

- J.R.R Tolkien from The Fall of Gondolin

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Location: Ondolindë, North Beleriand, Middle Earth

Time: 510 F.A

Salgant and his house did what Maeglin ordered, tying her up as they snuck around the city and took her back to their house. 

Elemmírë screamed and shook, but after doing so: her mouth was gagged, and her legs were bound together. She could only glare at them, easily going their minds to try and at least find some clues.

Just as she predicted, the reason why Maeglin had his support was simple that: Salgant was a coward. He led a house poorly, afraid to even bring up to arms or even aid the civilians to head to safety. Perhaps Maeglin persuaded him with enough riches and power to bring him to his side, an easy thing to fall into his traps as well as his silver-tongued voice.

She was cooped up in the main room, now emptied since most of the civilians had hidden in cellars or even in the palace. Her eyes wandered, trying to find something that she could cut the ropes that bound her. Unfortunately, a guard was situated just outside the room and another just several feet before her.

During this time, her energy had replenished, sensing her magic to resurface and begin to entwine around herself. Once she felt it grow in her chest, she slowly allowed it to swirl down to her wrists and saw the smoke rise.

Thankfully, it was dark enough, and the heat from the dragons and Balrogs were causing the water over the city to turn smoke. As she finally felt the rope cut, she massaged her hands before grabbing tightly on the rope binding her legs.

As if the timing was immaculate, there was a commotion of noise from the corridor. Just as Elemmírë was burning the rope, she spotted a figure fight against the guards at the door. The shadow was swift, their sword easily cutting down the elves before them until they appeared under the reddened light.

Her eyes grew wide as she gasped through the cloth, "Tyelpe!"

Celebrimbor panned his eyes towards her, a sharp gasp escaping his mouth as he rushed towards her and untied the gag over her mouth. She took a large breath, coughing as he began to cut the rest of her restraints.

"Mire!" He questioned her, "By Elbereth what happened?"

She stood up with the aid of Celebrimbor, glancing to him. "Who do you think?" Elemmírë told him in panic, "Maeglin knows the tunnel. We have to go...How did you find me?"

As they hurried through Salgant's home, now emptied by Celebrimbor's followers, he explained to her how he had found her. "Followed the Mole here. He was heading south of the city." As they reached the road, he stopped and looked at her. "It's too far already. And they barricaded most of the roads—"

"Follow me, I know this city for three centuries. Every shortcut." Elemmírë gestured for him and he nodded in response.

She wasn't lying to him about her knowledge. The roads were blocked by barricades and fallen debris as well as the odd orc running about. But years of running around the city with Idril, she knew every nook and cranny of the houses and buildings. They sped through tiny alleyways, dodging the flames as she felt herself sweat under her armour. The Northern Gate would fall first if she predicted it well. If not, they would surround the Western Gate next, for the cliffs of the rock would be too hard to climb.

Once they arrived at the main south road once more, they were in luck to find the colours of the House of the Wing enter her periphery.

Soon as she saw the familiar blonde hair and axe, Elemmírë shouted for his attention. "Tuor!" His head spun around to her as she continued, "Maeglin knows!"

"Then we must make haste," Tuor commanded the rest of the elves with the raise of his axe. "House of the Wing! At arms!"

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Soon as they arrived at what was supposed to be Tuor's house, they already saw the flames rising and she and Celebrimbor unsheathed their weapons.

Elves from the House of the Mole were fighting those of the House of the Wing, most defending the secret pass whilst others tried to get through. Tuor already went straight forward, his sturdier form against the leaner and shorter elves.

An elf tried to bring their sword down at her, but she blocked it with both her swords, Calimmacil's metal clanging into theirs before she brought the blunt side of Thúlíra to the side of the ribs. In a call of desperation, Elemmírë did all she could – using her foot to kick between the elf's legs.

They quickly bent over in agony, holding where she had bruised them as she brought her sword down and knocked them out. As much as she loathed the House of the Mole for their betrayal, she would never try to put red of those of her kin in her heart.

Whilst Celebrimbor stayed close, the two of them found Voronwë fighting two soldiers and she mentally ordered the craftsman to aid her friend. Celebrimbor hesitated for a moment, before nodding back at her and running to help Voronwë.

Elemmírë searched through the carnage, trying to find the three other people she knew were to be here. And with her luck – and dread – she saw them.

Dragging both Idril and Eärendil towards the walls of the city, Maeglin hauled them whilst the rest of the soldier distracted them. Elemmírë took in a sharp breath, growling to herself as she waded through the many bodies.

Luckily, Tuor was already there, dodging spears and swords before standing next to her. Tuor demanded him, "Maeglin! Unhand my wife and son now!"

Maeglin stopped, keeping the blade close to both Idril and Eärendil. He was holding Idril's sword, Hadhafang, pressing it against their necks that she was afraid that he would draw blood.

Instead, the dark elf ignored and barked back, "I don't listen to you, engwar!"

The grip on both her swords tightened, eyeing Tuor before the two sprung their attack against Maeglin.

Idril threw her head back, knocking Maeglin in the nose before stumbling forward. As her friend was brought out of his grasp, Eärendil scrambled out and was tossed at the side just as Tuor brought his axe, Dramborleg, down onto Hadhafang. [1]

Elemmírë shouted to Idril to move, blocking the unknown elf's spear as it swung at head height. She used her swords to disarm the other elf, letting Calimmacil fall, for her to grab the spear and yank it out of their hands. The elf paused for a moment, just as Elemmírë whacked up in the head at full force and sent him hitting the wall.

Turning back, she realised that Tuor and Maeglin still duelling. But it wasn't for long when Maeglin did a dirty trick, throwing a kick at Tuor's knee and sent him falling back. She heard Idril let out a cry, but Elemmírë did not focus on Tuor.

She saw Maeglin's eyes turn to the young elf and Elemmírë sprinted over to him.

As Elemmírë flung herself between Eärendil and Maeglin, she held her hands in front of her awaiting for the blow of Maeglin's sword. However, a surge of energy fueled through from her chest and across her body. A heat different to the flames around them, Elemmírë let out a breath as the sudden burst of light from her hands causing the sword to fly from his hands.

The sword fell out of Maeglin's hands, a shocked expression on his face before she too was brought into disbelief. It was the very first time her magic reacted to her this way.

As Maeglin and most of the elves around her were caught in astonishment, Elemmírë pushed Eärendil away from the edge, bending to grab Thúlíra from her sheath. Maeglin immediately reacted by the silver glint, growling as he tackled her from her legs and shoved her down onto the ground.

Elemmírë tried to pry her legs, kicking before she turned bucked her torso upwards and kneed him. Letting out a groan, Maeglin grabbed her wrist and slammed his hand again it. There, she felt a thousand needles prick her skin as she felt the bone shift and her hand opened wide. Thúlíra clattered onto the ground, as she felt yanked up – a hand now grasped around her neck.

"Tuor!" She choked, her left hand trying to pry his fingers off her.

Maeglin shouted, his eyes dark and yet burning with hatred. "I should have been the one!" He spat back, "You are just some lowly second born unworthy of her love!"

Tuor had appeared just a few feet, the flames creating a silhouette behind him as he loudly roared, "And you are a traitor to your own kin!" He ordered, "Let go of her now!"

As his head turned, he took a step forward, bringing the back of her feet at the edge. Maeglin said coldly, "He said if I cannot have her, the next will be her."

Elemmírë continued to move, shifting her hand in pain as she stared into his eyes. If she could not physically get the upper hand, she would do what she did best and felt her voice echo into his head, 'Your mother will be upset at what you have become, Lómion.'

'No...' Maeglin's voice cried mentally, 'Get out of my head!'

She flared her nostrils, gritting her teeth as she shouted inwardly, 'I thought you could have changed! And yet I was wrong to give all my hopes for you to change!' Elemmírë declared, 'You are not worthy of her love, Maeglin of Eöl. You bear no line or name in the house of Fingolfin!'

For a moment, she could have sworn he saw his eyes flash in fear. But Maeglin only scowled more, hissing back: "He said you would be like this." He cried out, taking another step. "The changer of fates. The bringer of the inevitable. You won't know what is coming for you, Elemmírë of House of the Golden Flower!"

The confusion brought her to question him. What did Maeglin mean? Who knew of her? But in the right moment, timed by how Maeglin had been too focused on her, Elemmírë's face drew to a blank look before she spoke.

"Even you," She told him.

Maeglin's eyes widened, "What?"

Suddenly, Tuor gripped Maeglin's waist, twisting them around until it had been Maeglin at the edge of the wall. Elemmírë felt another rush of warmth through her hand as she flung them upon Maeglin and smelt skin burn.

Maeglin screamed, removing his hand from her neck as he recoiled and stumbled. His hair was flying around him, dark strands demented before Tuor shoved him off the wall.

There: Maeglin the Traitor died just like how his father did.

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[1] - Dramborleg: Tuor's great axe.

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A/N: A twist to the canon but I tried my best to make it similar to the text I read. I had to lengthen the fight, especially with the addition of Elemmire, Celebrimbor and even Voronwe. But I made sure that Tuor would have made the last blow and follow the canon death Maeglin rightfully deserves.

The next chapter it's going to be the last bit of the battle and then after that, it's gonna be final (but we also have Post-Credits which teases greatly about Elemmire's heritage).

Thank you again for your patience. See next time ;)

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Edited: 04/06/2022