Ashes, ashes, we all fall down [5]
Pebbles and small rocks dislodge themselves from the mountain side as the Balrog climbs the steep slope and comes into view. He is smaller, perhaps, than the one she has seen in the Square of the King, but no less frightening.
The children burst in tears and they press tightly to her legs, hindering her movements. She is just about to guide them behind her, to take out her sword once more and prepare to fight - they stand little chances, she knows, but she will not die on her knees - when a familiar face breaks from the group and heads towards the Balrog. It is the ellon that was responsible for her capture a century ago, but now she cannot fault him for that. Just in this moment she wishes him good luck, though she fears it is in vain.
All stop and wait once the battle commences. Even the orcs on the cliffs remain still as the Balrog roars and lunges forward, as the ellon - Glorfindel, that is his name, but she is loath to think it, least she sees him as the one who captured her and not the one who is trying to save them - sidesteps and parries the flaming whip of the creature, as they lock in a battle that will be sung for ages to come. The monster roars in fury - and perhaps pain - when his arm is hewed, but he is not yet defeated. A wrestle follows and both topple over the edge of the mountain, into the abyss.
For a moment all hold their breath and nothing but the howling of the wind echoes around then. Soon, though, the trance is over. The orcs start hurling stones once more, some adding knives others axes in the mix. There is no way to fight them and no way to defend themselves. All hope seems lost... yet sometimes it springs anew when it is least expected. In their case it is the eagles that come as their salvation.
The giant birds swoop down upon the orcs, grabbing them in their talons and crashing the creatures to the stones below. Others get crushed by razor sharp beaks and claws. None of the enemies survive. A few moments are spared to remember the fallen, before the march starts again.
There are no enemies pursuing them any longer. Gondolin lies in ashes behind them and many, too many to count, have fallen. They have only their weapons and the clothes on their backs. Around Naeriel everyone grieves, starting from the youngest child clutching her leg and ending with the bravest warrior.
She too is saddened by the loss of life. She too is marked by the tragedy that befell Gondolin. But in her breast a spar of joy bursts almost unexpected, fighting the darkness of the day. It is nothing more than a flicker, but is it there reminding her that she is free.
Reminding her that she is alive... she can return home at last.
