"The dragon is dead. With me, counterattack!"
Rowan Mercer expanded once more into a towering giant, seized the severed head of the dragon, and hurled it deep into the orc ranks. In the same breath, he Apparated onto the city walls with the three elven princes and amplified his voice across the battlefield.
The sight of the dragon's head shattered the enemy's nerve.
Balrogs hesitated. Orcs faltered.
The elves and human defenders, already bloodied and exhausted, erupted with renewed fury. They surged down from the walls, following Rowan and the three princes into the counteroffensive.
Rowan leapt straight into the densest cluster of orcs. In giant form, he ignored their blows and spun in place, both hands blazing.
"Plasma electromagnetic blast!"
A sweeping arc of plasma carved through the horde. The attack could slice through stone and hillsides. Against Sauron or the dragon, it had lacked killing power. Against orcs, it was annihilation. Anything it touched was torn apart.
As his internal charge dipped and began to recover, golden sigils ignited behind him.
"Light Magic: Rain of Radiance!"
A storm of luminous arrows fell from the sky, flattening another wave of orcs that tried to close in.
At the same time, the three elven princes struck together and brought down a Balrog. Seeing that, the remaining Balrogs turned and fled without hesitation. Their kind was rare, irreplaceable. Orcs were not.
With their commander dead and their elite retreating, the orc army broke completely. Panic overtook them, and they fled toward Angband in a black tide.
Rowan and the princes led the combined force in pursuit. In truth, fewer than a thousand remained, but their momentum was unstoppable. They chased the enemy all the way to the shattered fortress at the elves' former front line before finally halting.
Rowan stood atop the broken walls and looked toward Angband, swallowed by rolling black smoke. The power radiating from it was deep, ancient, and suffocating.
"So this is Morgoth," he murmured.
Sauron had been terrifying. Compared to this presence, Sauron felt small.
It was no wonder so many powerful beings had fallen at Morgoth's side in the beginning. And this was Morgoth diminished, his strength spread thin as he poured himself into corrupting the world.
Valinor's powers must have been unimaginable.
The three princes surveyed the ruins in silence. Charred elven bodies lay among collapsed stone. Grief shadowed their faces. They remembered building these fortresses after driving Morgoth's armies back long ago. Now they stood as wreckage.
"Now isn't the time to mourn," Rowan said quietly. "We still need to know what's happening in the east."
The princes shook their heads.
"The Pass of Aglon has fallen," one said. "The eastern front collapsed. Only Maedhros managed to hold a fortress long enough to retreat. Everyone else has withdrawn south. The Balrog King has already led his forces into the heart of the continent."
They hadn't ignored the east out of resentment, despite old grievances. The warning had come too late. By the time word reached them, the dragon had already shattered the forward defenses and driven straight for the city.
"At least two lines held," Rowan said after a pause. "It could've been worse."
There was no perfect outcome. Even if the eastern line had survived longer, reinforcements from here would have been impossible. Everyone present was spent, physically and mentally. Rowan himself was running on fumes, his body pushed hard by repeated overloads.
After the fallen were recovered and laid to rest, Rowan raised his wandless hand.
"Reparo."
The broken fortress flowed backward in time. Stone slid into place. Towers rose. Walls sealed. What had been ruin became a functioning bastion once more.
Humans and elves alike stared in disbelief.
Then the elves answered in kind.
They gathered, pressed their palms to the earth, and began to chant. Where blackened soil and burned roots lay, green shoots pushed through. Trees straightened. Flowers bloomed. Seeds were planted and, in moments, fruit-bearing trees stood heavy with life.
"Life magic," Rowan whispered.
Now he understood why elven cities were always beautiful, why they never farmed as humans did, and why their lands were forever lush and abundant.
Their magic wasn't built for destruction. It was built for endurance.
And suddenly, Rowan wanted to learn all of it.
Most of the remaining forces stayed behind at the restored fortress to rest and hold the line. Rowan, Bregolas, Barahir, and the three princes returned with a smaller group to the elven city, where Finrod's troops from the gorge were already arriving.
The princes began reorganizing defenses. Bregolas and Barahir went to evacuate the human settlements into the city.
Rowan walked alone toward the massive corpse of the fallen dragon.