Season 3 Episode 2 The Fall of Tol Sirion
Camera fade in on River Sirion, a wide, deep, and fast moving river. Camera advance upstream until Sirion widens considerably; there is an island midstream, around which the river flows with a strong current. At top horizon we see a flash of white. Camera advance to island, which is heavily forested but has steep, rocky cliffs white breakers, and swirls that indicate riptides along the waterline. Camera shift to island surface, covered in deep snow. Tall white walls rise over the trees, shining in the sun. Camera shift toward walls. The fortress has tall guard towers, well defended walls, and a high prominent tower near the centre of the fortifications.
Camera pan over walls. Elves stand guard, alert and obviously tense. Beyond the walls we see preparations for a siege; barrels of stores, full racks of weapons, barrels of water with bailing buckets near every flamable roof, catapults with stones standing ready. Elves in the courtyard move nervously.
Camera shift through a window in the tower. Finrod sits at a table near the window, using the natural light to examine a map set on a pegboard. A fire crackles in a fireplace, and he is wrapped in a white fur cloak over a wool tunic that shows wear. His breath steams. The map shows much of the surrounding area, from Maedhros' land to Hithlum. Black pegs over Ard-galen, around Barad Eithel, and in the passes mark Morgoth's advance. White pegs still show Dorthonion and Mithrim held by Elves.
Finrod: [pulls white pegs from Pass of Aglon, replaces with black; mutters] So Aglon has fallen, and probably all of Himlad. How we could have thought our foe caged I know not. Still, we relaxed our guard and let this happen. [lays all pegs on map; they scatter. Looks out window at frozen land beyond.] Winter or not, I will not wait for news. [shouts] Raden!
Raden: [enters, carrying a pitcher of warm wine and a cup. she is businesslike; a quill is tucked in a twist of her hair] My lord? You are likely to freeze in here. [Sets down pitcher and cup on side table.] You know more refugees have arrived since noon? Our resources are being stretched…
Finrod: You must gather all those who cannot fight and be ready to leave by morning. I am sending you to the caves at Nargothrond.
Raden: As you will, my lord. [pours wine, which steams in cold air near window]
Finrod: [surprised] What? No protest? I am not being unreasonable?
Raden: Only if you do not drink that: [hands Finrod cup], shut that window, and move closer to the fire.
Finrod: [irritably] I am not one of your children.
Raden: If you were you would not give me so much trouble. [covers wine] And I am not an imbecile.
Finrod: [sips wine]
Raden: I see what is happening. If the sons of Fëanor cannot hold their land what hope have we in holding this pass against such odds? Morgoth has effectively divided the Noldor forces in two, thus making it nigh on impossible to unite against him. We have no choice but to send those who must be protected away for their own safety, and to leave more supplies for the soldiers when you are besieged. I have been spreading the word for nearly a week now. We will be gone by sunrise.
Finrod: [chuckles] What would I do without you?
Raden: You are about to find out. Geros goes with us.
Finrod: [nods in understanding] Of course. You will need an experienced commander, and I doubt you would leave willingly without your husband.
Raden: My sons have elected to stay with you, my lord. I will not leave all my family.
[Door opens suddenly. Elf 1 enters, breathless.]
Elf 1: My lord! [bows] Lord Orodreth and Lady Eldalótë have arrived in some distress, and with grave news!
Finrod: [stands. Eldalote and Orodreth enter, both upset] Eldalótë! Nephew, what brings you here?
Eldalótë: [choked sob. Raden goes to comfort her.]
Orodreth: [angry] We are overrun. Father fell, and Aegnor, too, avenging him…Bregolas, Lord of Ladros is no more, but his brother Barahir still holds onto western Dorthonion last I heard. Apart from his small force, all those who held our land are now either dead or here with us.
Finrod: [clenches both fists, pounds them once on table. camera focus on Finrod's face as tears fill his eyes. he whispers, teeth clenched] I should have been there with them! [embraces Orodreth.] Thank Eru that you made it through safely. I sent reinforcements days ago...did they not reach you?
Orodreth: [pushes away from Finrod. straightens his shoulders firmly.] We saw no sign of your people. That is not all. The passes south into Beleriand and west into Hithlum are the Dark One’s next objectives. The foul beasts that overthrew my father now march for your land. This time I will not be sent away! Here I will fight!
Finrod: [earnestly] I swear to you, Orodreth, all our dead shall be avenged fully. You will stand beside me when we gain the recompense for their blood. Right now, however, we serve them best by surviving to fight when the odds are more favourable. If you would help, tell me what you saw. How many are coming?
Orodreth: I cannot count that high. But I am not afraid.
Finrod: Then you are the only one, lad. [sets wine on table]Here. Show me if you can how our enemies came at you.
Orodreth: They came through Ladros, [points, knocks over wine] and – [Camera shift to map. Wine spreads over Dimbar, pushing pins over. Fade.]
* * * * * * *
Scene opens with a night time tracking shot going down a river and approaching Tol Sirion.
It is very late at night/early morning. It is cold with snow on the surrounding trees and there is a fog hanging in many areas. We see a few Elven guards up high upon the battlements keeping a routine watch. They exchange a few meaningless comments and one stops the conversation and points out to the distance looking out over the bridge .....
Elf 1: Look there – [points] what is that?
Elf 2: some fog.. or mist ... or even smoke?
Elf 1: [calls to another guard elsewhere on the battlements] Falathar! Look at this! [a third guard rushes to their position- ]
Falathar: Do you mean that unnatural smoke over the bridge? I have never seen smoke such as that. It is a windy night but it moves only forward and at a slower pace against the winds!
[the camera then switches its perspective going behind the three guards and we see what the guards are looking at....thick strands of white mist shaped like wispy candles and colored just a bit darker and deeper that the surrounding mist closing the distance and approaching the building. They seem to be about halfway between the bridge level and the top of the fortification..]
Elf 1: [mesmerised] Look – the wisps of smoke are rising!
Elf 2: [slightly panicky] They are coming for us it appears.
Falathar: Since when were you afraid like a child? …mist and smoke cannot harm an armed elf - let alone three of us. [cut.]
* * *
Cut to the dining hall of Tol Sirion: Some two dozen Elves are eating and talking. It is a large room which could accommodate several times that number so many tables and long heavy benches sit empty. The room is lit by several torches and lanterns placed along the walls and a few on the tables themselves. There is also a large fireplace at one end. One by one, the flames die out, and the fire dies to glowing embers. The temperature starts to drop. As only a few remain they Elves begin to notice and become wary. A few reach for their weapons just as the room is plunged into semi- darkness
We hear combined complaints, profane oaths, and boasted threats followed by silence as the group attempts to figure out what is happening…Cut.
* * *
Cut back to the battlements: The wispy glowing candles are now coming onto the building....... they begin to take positions as if they want to surround the guards who are clearly confused. Their swords are drawn.
Elf 2: Stand together... back to back ..... [They group together forming a tight circle but they are pushed apart by one of the smoky candles suddenly coming together behind them..... they turn to see what has pushed them apart and the smoky candle appears to cast tendrils out at them which spark and hiss and reach for their faces...
All three Elves attack as one and swing their swords into the smoke getting lost in the dense mist but hacking away just the same. The camera is behind each guard and we see isolated hacking into the smoke which begins to turn crimson and we hear cries of pain from behind the smoke. These are very fast intercut scenes to give the idea of mayhem and the three guards fighting nearly against an unseen opponent…cut.]
* * *
Cut back to the dining hall which is still dark:The Elves remain seated and one says for the others not to move. We can barely make out any images but one by one the torches and lanterns begin to be come alive with light as if lighting themselves ....
Elf A: [puzzled] That is strange.
Elf B: [warily] Is it the wind? Is someone playing a trick on us?
Elf C: [putting on bravado] It better not be Hallas, I told him I have no patience for his childish jokes.
[As the last light is relit, the fire in the hearth sparks back to life: the flames continue to grow in intensity and heat...... the flames grow larger and larger and wider and wider until the entire room seems bathed in walls of flame. As the Elves stare they see fire demons writhing within the flames as they consume the air. The demons leap from the flames, clawing at the Elves with red skin that burns like coals and tongues of flame that shoot out like whips. The Elves scream and make for the door, but it appears to be barred.]
Elf A: [panicking] That door is the only way out!
Elf B: No! Try the window: pick up this table and we will ram out way out!
[The group picks up a heavy wooden table and run some twenty feet trying to pick up some speed towards the window. As they hit it, it smashes…the intake of oxygen swells the flames and the fire demons rush out at them like water bursting from a dam covering the entire table and those who hold it...... Loud screams begin to erupt from them…]
Elf C: Water! We need water… [cut]
* * *
Cut to scene in the dining hall, later: Camera pans around the room: nothing seems to have been even singed by the flames. Everything is in its place and nothing is out of the ordinary apart from the broken window and some puddles on the floor. A dozen bedraggled and terrified Elves are sitting on the benches…some have sooty faces, a few have singes to their hair and clothing. They are being interrogated by Edrahil and Finrod:
Edrahil: [motioning to nearest Elves] What in the name of Eru has happened here???
Elf 1: We were attacked by demons from the fire!
Elf 2: My Lord…some evil sorcery has taken place here: all the torches went out and the fire died all of a sudden. Then, before we could react, they lit themselves again and the fire grew to a fierce blaze…
Elf 3: And before our very eyes fire demons arose from the burning coals in the hearth! They leapt from the fire and came at us with burning fingers and tongues of flame…
Elf 2: We tried to escape but the door was barred, so we broke a window-
Elf 4: -but the draft only fanned the flames and made the demons increase in size and ferocity. In the end we found water from the kitchens and were able to quench the flames…
Edrahil: Yet nothing has been burnt in here except for yourselves… I do not understand!
Finrod: The circumstances certainly speak of some devilry of Morgoth…or perhaps his underling, Sauron Gorthaur… [he is interrupted by a, Elf who rushes up to them]
Elf: My Lords! - there is more trouble – you must come quickly…the battlements!
Finrod: [pointing to the waiting guards] Take care of this. [Finrod and Elrahil depart moving rather quickly and the Elf who informed them struggles to keep up. Cut.]
* * *
Cut to scene on battlements, early morning… there are a group of Elven soldiers standing to the side all looking rather concerned and muttering amongst themselves. Finrod and Edrahil and bent over the dead bodies of the three guards.
Finrod: …and they have not been touched or changed in any way?
Edrahil: No my Lord, the group who reported at sunrise to relieve them found them like this and one came right to me. I took a look and asked you to see for yourself.
Finrod: These men have suffered deep gashes all about the body. Each one must have been sliced or stabbed a score of times. There is enough blood here to fill a small barrel. Is there any sign as to who is responsible for this?
Edrahil: There is nothing other than the three themselves. Their swords are heavy with the stain of blood and it appears to be their own.
Finrod: Have a team search the ground around the building. Look for any trace that may give us some clues as to who did this. It seems the illusionary attack in the dining hall was but a diversion…we are facing a clever enemy who seeks to demoralize from within…
Edrahil: As you wish my lord…but the other soldiers need reassuring, such as we can give them, and there is the issue of the refugees. How can we protect them from further attacks from within?
Finrod: [looks at Edrahil, worry etched across his face…] I fear we must evacuate all those who cannot fight immediately… [fade.]
* * *
Scene opens outside the fortress, a few hours later: there are sentries and soldiers every twenty feet on the battlements. Others line the bridge. Assembled on the bridge just outside the gates are the refugees and a small group of Elven soldiers. Finrod approaches Raden and Geros and gives them their final instructions:
Finrod: We have sent a fast runner to Nargothrond to inform them of your imminent arrival. With any luck an escort will be sent to meet you when you get about half way there. We are under attack here but I am sending six soldiers to help you get them there safely. I cannot spare more…
Raden: They will be delivered safely, My Lord.
Geros: There are enough among us who can wield a weapon if the need arises..do not worry yourself unnecessarily, Lord Finrod - [A distressed Eldalotë rushes up to Finrod, breathlessly]
Eldalótë: My Lord and kinsman, where is Orodeth? Was my son not to be sent also?
Finrod: If he is not present you must leave now. He was not happy to learn that he is being sent to safety and most likely is hiding and will emerge later. The safety of these people cannot hinge on one rebellious youth. [takes her hands in his, speaks gently but firmly] Eldalótë…you have my word I shall do my utmost to protect him and deliver him safely to you at Nargothrond…but he is almost full-grown, and the will to see his father avenged is strong in him …I cannot force him to flee from the enemy. [Eldalótë, her face pale, nods mutely and turns away, stifling a sob.]
Finrod: [addresses the refugees about to leave.] It saddens me to have you arrive here seeking safety and protection only to find more death and what should have been your safe haven under attack. The situation demands you must move yet again. Our people in Nargothrond are awaiting you and you will be welcomed there with open arms. Go with all speed and Eru’s Blessing…
[We then see the group of about forty walking over the bridge and into the forest. Finrod stands with Edrahil until the last one vanishes into the trees.]
Finrod: [keeps staring into the spot where the last person vanished into the forest] Who will protect them out there Edrahil? An enemy who can enter our citadel at will and attack dozens of armed soldiers will find no challenge against women and children out in the open. I fear they are being sent to their deaths.
Edrahil: You had no choice. We could not protect them here and they were just an easy target for the enemy.
Finrod: As are we, it seems…but I will not give up this fortress without a struggle. If Tol Sirion falls, then the northern passage into Beleriand will be open to the enemy… [he turns and walks back into the building…fade out.]
* * * * * * *
The History of the Silmarils - Season 3, Episode 2
The History of the Silmarils - Season 3, Episode 2
Last edited by Elentári on Sat Jan 14, 2012 2:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
~Diana Cortes
Camera open on a village of Men in Ladros.
Fires burn over Ard-galen, and the snow and frost flicker red. Smoke obscures the stars. The village is wooden buildings with thatched roofs, surrounded by a palisade of logs bound with iron and a moat. The moat is filled with snow. Various animals mill about their pens, frightened. Men gather, armed. Women and children stand nearby, looking worried.
Camera focus on Barahir, standing near the gate of the palisade, looking out. He wears a bear skin pinned over a loose tunic, scale mail, and a helmet that is badly dented. Urthel, Radhruin, and Dagnir join him. Radhruin is covered in mud and ash. Urthel is extremely tall and large.
Barahir: What news?
Dagnir: Do you really want to know, or are you just asking to be polite?
Barahir: [nods] It is truly that bad, then?
Urthel: Bad enough. The entire plain is overrun, and this time the Orcs are not alone. They have Trolls with them, and creatures of blasting flame that I have never seen before.
Barahir: [brushes ash off Radhruin’s beard] Creatures of flame?
Dagnir: Black sorcery if ever there was such seen. Do we hold here, then, until Lord Bregolas can aid us?
[Camera shift to look out gate. In the distance great bursts of fire light the sky. Camera focus on Barahir.]
Barahir: I doubt my brother will be able to give us help for some time. His hands well may be full with the bulk of our foes.
Radhruin: Few seemed to be headed this way. No more than five percent of their army, if my eyes were not fooled.
Dagnir: It is almost insulting, the way Morgoth takes our valour for granted.
Barahir: [to Radhruin] How close did you get to them?
Radhruin: No closer than I needed to be. Trust to that, Lord.
Barahir: [draws a long breath, glances up at palisade, slowly exhales] How long will they take to reach us?
Dagnir: Not before mid-morning, I should think.
Radhruin: They brought many supplies, and their train slows them.
Barahir: That is good. It will give us the time we need.
Camera shift to Emeldir, approaching. She is also armed and armoured in scale. Barahir turns toward her, smiles, and holds out his hand. She takes his hand and stands beside him.
Emeldir: What are you thinking, my love?
Barahir: That it is going to be a damned cold walk. [Camera cut to Men, confused.]
Radhruin: My lord?
Dagnir: You mean to make a fight of it here, right? We are not such cowards to run from these odds!
Barahir: [bitter laugh] Fight flame in a fortress of oiled wood? I think not. [to Urthel and Radhruin] I charge you both; get our people ready to move – now! No cattle, no carts, only horses to ride. And make sure they’re fast ones.
Urthel: [bows, walks off, shouting orders]
Radhruin: [mutters] Just when I thought the night couldn’t get worse . . .
Barahir: [to Dagnir] Since you are so eager to fight, my friend, I give you charge of our rear guard. Choose your men well. Do not risk yourselves needlessly, but make certain we have time to get our helpless ones to safety.
Dagnir: [bows] My lord, if I may… [uncertain] Your son –
Barahir: I told you to choose the men you think best for the job, my friend. The more you delay your choices, the more advantage our foe gains.
Dagnir: [bows, exits left, fast]
Camera cut to Emeldir, worried. Barahir hugs her.
Emeldir: Do not tell me that he is a man, husband.
Barahir: Then I will not, for you know it already. In this hour there is no promise of safety, only the chance of escape or, failing that, of a swift and honoured death.
Emeldir: [straightens, smooths her hair] Then my worry will only cost lives, if you must delay yourself to comfort me.
Barahir: [smiles] Just think of all that wool you have not finished carding.
Emeldir: You know I hate that job.
Barahir: Now you will never have to face it.
Emeldir: [slow smile, then smothered laugh. Tears shine on her cheeks. She turns and heads for a house.]
Barahir: [speaks to the sky] Ironmasters say the true test of a blade comes when it must endure anvil and forge. Now flame and ice and heavy blows will test our mettle and prove our temper. [closes fist] I swear to you, Balan, and to all my ancestors who swore the first oaths to defend this land, that we shall prove ourselves worthy. The ore with which we are made shall emerge from this, sharp and shining as the most deadly foes of our great enemy! [cut.]
* * * * * * *
Scene opens, focusing on the tops of the fir trees on the banks of the river with Tol Sirion in the background.... the sun is dipping low in the sky as it follows its path towards the Door of Night; it shines a golden hue onto the ice encrusted branches of the trees.... as the golden light hits the trees, they twinkle and sparkle like fairy lights on some holiday ....... gold and silver adorning the upper regions of Tol Sirion also shine in the light. (music in the background will be soft and lyrical with twinklings of bells in it)
The camera moves through the trees and at a lower angle. We see the rushing river babbling onwards, thin and broken sheets of watery ice along the banks in parts and it makes patterns dancing along the stones that give the water more speed..... we cross the river to Tol Sirion and on the banks is a mother rabbit in a nest with several babies…...... we see her leave the nest and she scampers up an embankment and goes towards the walls of the building ......above her the great bell of the watch tower tolls once to mark the passing of the hour....... her nose begins to twitch like crazy and she becomes agitated and nervous .... she looks around almost wary …... she advances further and stops and takes in several deep intakes of air and aroma ..... then the camera shifts perspective and we see what she is looking at:
several large carrion birds are picking at the eyes of a pile of Elves strewn at the base of the wall.... the birds appear to be a strange combination of different species - part reptile - part bat - part snake but mostly birds like vultures .... there are several of them and at least that many dead Elves at least seven or eight of them and they are in tatters with blood everywhere, trails of blood and innards lie across the frozen banks, indicating that the bodies have been dragged that way ...... one of the birds stops its breakfast and turns its head and looks menacingly at the rabbit who turns tail and scampers away......
the camera goes back to a more wide shot of the entire one side of the fortress and begins to climb up its side so we see it in detail...... the camera stops at the highest apartment in the great watchtower and we see through a glassy coloured window a hand lighting a lantern as the daylight fades..... In the room, Finrod begins to tend to the smouldering embers of a fire in the hearth and puts near a kettle to brew.....There is a knock at the door, and Edrahil enters with report of the day’s events…
Finrod: [anxiously] What news, my friend?
Edrahil: [grimly] Not good…the dragon has passed through Maglor’s gap, and destroyed all the lands between the arms of the River Gelion…Caranthir’s land is ravaged and Lake Helevorn defiled…
Finrod: his fortress at Mount Rerir?
Edrahil: Fallen…but the Hill of Himring still stands as a beacon of hope and defence. The people of Dorthonion and of the east marches have rallied there to Maedhros.
Finrod: Any word yet on the reinforcements we sent? [Edrahil shakes his head. Finrod turns to fire and holds out his hands to warm them, musing] And how long, I wonder, will we hold out here, against the unknown? How are our troops holding up? [the kettle starts to sing as it approaches the boil]
Edrahil: [uncomfortable] Still uneasy…moral is low since the attacks were discovered at sunrise. On my way to you I had to remind the change of watch of Fëanor’s words: “we are threatened with many evils…but let it not be said that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens…”
Finrod: [smiles ruefully] I am resigned to our fate now…but we will put up such a fight that the enemy will regret the day it crossed swords with the Lord of Nargothrond… [kettle boils rapidly] will you enjoy a cup with me whilst we may? [he grabs a jar and pulls out some leaves, reaching for a nicely carved mug on a nearby table when we hear a horrendous scream which causes him to turn sharply knocking over the mug which shatters on the stone floor. He looks down and the camera picks up the side of the mug broken in pieces with the two largest carved with the relief of the Finarfin family crest...... it has been split into pieces…Directly above, the great bell of the watch tower begins tolling rapidly…cut.]
* * *
Cut to shot of Finrod and Edrahil rushing out onto battlements: The guards are arrayed, looking down at the scene of desecration below…even the most hardened are visibly sickened and faces are pale…The two inspect the horror for themselves. Edrahil grimaces at Finrod, who nods in understanding.
Edrahil: The aid we sent to your brothers has been returned to us…. [ Fade]
* * * * * * *
Scene opens with an aerial shot of a team of four Elves working to pick up the dead corpses on the side banks of Tol Sirion. They wrap each body in a heavy cloth and pick up severed pieces and wrap them individually. The last bit of the sun begins to dip behind the tree line.
Change to ground level shot closer up
Elf 1: [blows on hands and stamps his feet] It is colder out here than that night we spent in Araman..
Elf 2: the temperature is falling, and fast ... let us hurry and finish this up before the bodies freeze to the ground and we need tools to pry them up!
Elf 3: [lifting the last of an arm onto the cart] well, that is the end of it…let us get inside, and quick about it. [As they begin to take their first steps to move off, they notice they are being watched by the same reptilian birds who were picking at the corpses. One of them utters a high pitched keening sound and the others join in producing an awful racket which has the effect of nails on a chalkboard]
Elf 1: [picks up a stone and throws it at one] Be off with you!
[The bird creature catches the stone it a talon. the Elves begin to get spooked and look to each other with looks of puzzlement upon their faces .... One of the birds takes a step towards the Elves and stops staring at them for few seconds.... suddenly, the bird cocks its head, as if listening to something inaudible to the elves…then as one the birds flap their large wings and take off across the frozen ice to the distant trees.]
Elf 3: those were no birds I have ever seen
Elf 4: I do not think they were birds at all - at least no bird of Manwë…
Elf 2: night approaches fast, we must get back now.
[The camera pulls back as they make their way under the bridge and pans up to another group of Elves on the battlements who have been watching this. Lightning crashes in the sky and the heavens open up with a torrential downpour that quickly changes to sleet. The Elves on the battlements take refuge indoors leaving guards outside.]
* * *
We dissolve from sleet to snow to blinding snow.... we see the guards on the battlements covered in ice and snow and the winds are beginning to rip tiles from the roofing and shutters off windows and openings. One of the Elves on sentry duty collapses and the other picks him up and makes his way to shelter reporting to his superior.
Elf 1: [nods to his superior] It is no good…conditions have deteriorated beyond anything we have seen before….I fear we will lose more friends this night if we do not abandon the watch!
Elven Officer: I pity even more those of our kin that suffered on the Helcaraxë if the tales are true that it were worse than this. You speak sense, Derufin…advise the night watch to abandon post. We must secure the fortress against the elements…and whatever unknown enemy that haunts us still.
Elf 1: …if any living creature could survive outside in such extreme conditions… [fade]
* * *
Fade back into wide shot of Tol Sirion
The snow has stopped and we have an aerial shot of the entire place covered in thick ice and snow like some polar palace ...... opening shot shows the moon full low in the sky making everything sparkle and twinkle like gems have completely covered the landscape and everything in it. Then we see a large force assembled on the banks across the river.... some go as far as the frozen ice of the river and others go back into the tree line and rocks.....they stretch out to a distance longer than the fortress and it is hard to tell exactly how many are there because of the trees.
In the midst is Sauron standing tall and proud. He is cloaked in a heavy robe coloured midnight blue. Around the edges of the wide belled sleeves and where the hem hits the snow and spreads out like a train, is a thick band of brocaded silver with many intricate designs resembling ancient runes. At least five hundred orcs are with him, possible many more stretching back into the forest. Around Sauron are pacing and nervous werewolves...... creatures a large as a modern tiger, appearing like wolves but with intelligence and purpose and far more malice and ferocity than any normal beast of nature. They mostly prowl on all fours but occasionally they stand up on their hind legs and beckon to the castle and issue menacing roars. More than once, they engage in pushing and snarling at their fellows until prodded and controlled by large orcs or silenced by a simple wave of the hand of Sauron in their direction.
And amongst the throng are what appear to be carved ice sculptures of ancient godlike beings. Creatures who blend into the ice and snow as if they were created by the storm itself. They are at least twice to three times as tall as any orc and even taller than Sauron himself. They have skin of a greyish ice blue that is almost transparent like the skin of a premature newborn baby. They wear no clothing of any kind. They are tall and lanky with long corded muscle and sinew that stretches across their frame like steel cable. They are not built like trolls but more like a tall modern basketball player. They have long grey and white hair stretching down to their mid back, thick, heavy eyebrows, and beards like Old Testament prophets. Their hands and feet seem stretched and elongated making them some half again as long as they would normally be proportioned on a human. The moonlight reflects off them like a mirror and they appear to be covered in patches of ice and snow themselves but show no sign of cold or discomfort.
They are at home in this environment. They do not move, they do not pace, they do not show any sign of life. They simply stand there or sit hunched on their haunches and wait patiently. Every other creature, from the werewolves to the orcs to beasts which defy description gives them several feet of empty space to call their own. They are The Helcaraukar, the Creatures of the ice covered mountain tops where no others dare travel. The ice giants assemble at the base of the fortress as the Elves on the battlements look down. The soldiers are muttering and passing worried looks amongst themselves.
Elf 1: what in the name of Eru are those outlandish, tall creatures?
Elf 2: they are strange to my eyes also. I have never seen anything like that.
Edrahil: I do not know, but they have werewolves with them, the evil spawn of Morgoth in Angband.
Finrod: [putting his hand to his chin and making a fist with the light of recognition and horror dawning on his face] When we crossed the Helcaraxë, many of our people were crushed by the ice and died from the bitter cold and elements. Others… his voice trails off] …others on the edges of our migration simply vanished with no cause. Some spoke of large creatures made of ice who picked off stragglers or children who became divided from the larger host. We tried to stop such talk but it was whispered nonetheless. [Orodreth appears, pushing through the ranks of elves along the battlements, straining to see what everyone is staring at...]
Elf 1: and are these the same creatures My Lord?
Finrod: [gravely] I do not know. But we had a name for those that we never saw and lived to talk about ..... we called them the Helcaraukar - the Ice Demons. [camera focus on Orodreth's face as he stares, bewildered, at the strange host arrayed in front of the fortress]
Orodreth: Demons carved from ice? ...our fortress is thick with it! That cannot be a coincidence...
Finrod: I fear we shall soon find out if the ice storm and the appearance of these creatures is mere coincidence or part of a larger scheme to rid the land of our kind. [turns and walks back into the keep, an agitated Orodreth trailing in his wake. Cut]
* * *
Camera cuts back to the banks and we see many orcs and other creatures becoming increasingly agitated, waving their weapons menacingly at the fortress, shouting threats, some jumping up and down to keep warm, others pacing frantically .... but the Helcaraukar stand or sit motionless like icebergs. [Cut.]
* * *
Cut to inside the keep: Elven soldiers are scattered the length of the Hall, attempting to take their minds off the impending battle by tending their weapons, etc. Some grab a last cup of wine or hunk of bread. They look morose, worried and uncertain.
Orodreth: [pacing restlessly, agitated] What are our chances, Uncle? The men are saying that we will not last the night against such foes…
Finrod: By my estimates, the enemy outnumbers us by 5-1…the odds are not good…
Orodreth: [frustrated] Then it is hopeless!!! We might as well flee back to Nargothrond and seek harbour there like the others of our kin who have been dispossessed and driven from their lands… [slams fist down on table, tearfully] Why do we not rally to cousin Maedhros at Himring! There I could at least avenge my father with honour, rather than die like rats, trapped in this bolt-hole!
Finrod: [quietly] You have seen what happened to the reinforcements we sent to your father three days ago…now, with Dorthonion overrun I do not believe any could gain passage there.
Orodreth: [blanches and looks away, his shoulders shaking] All that is left, then, is despair and dishonour…
Finrod: [puts hand on Orodreth’s shoulder] Orodreth…there is no disgrace in our actions here…nor do we face death needlessly. This fortress and island are of strategic importance to the safety of our people. Should we fall to the Dark Lord’s forces, then he will hold the western pass into Beleriand. Nothing will be able to pass through the vale without his knowledge…It is vital that we defend here until there is no chance of victory…
Orodreth: [takes deep breath and nods curtly] Your men have trusted you thus far…I will do the same…I know you will not lead us astray
Finrod: [Nods and then turns and stands on bench to address his men] Do not give into despair- that indeed is another trick of the enemy. You are the best hope I have. One cannot but wish we were greater in number, but even so, I would not lose so great an honour as to die in fellowship with you few, loyal friends. From this night to the ending of the world, we in it shall be remembered… for he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother… and those that lie safe elsewhere shall curse themselves for not being here with us when we sing the tales of our valour in later days! [Finrod touches his right fist to his collarbone in the Elven manner of salute to his men. The soldiers return the gesture as one… Fade.]
* * * * * * *
Fires burn over Ard-galen, and the snow and frost flicker red. Smoke obscures the stars. The village is wooden buildings with thatched roofs, surrounded by a palisade of logs bound with iron and a moat. The moat is filled with snow. Various animals mill about their pens, frightened. Men gather, armed. Women and children stand nearby, looking worried.
Camera focus on Barahir, standing near the gate of the palisade, looking out. He wears a bear skin pinned over a loose tunic, scale mail, and a helmet that is badly dented. Urthel, Radhruin, and Dagnir join him. Radhruin is covered in mud and ash. Urthel is extremely tall and large.
Barahir: What news?
Dagnir: Do you really want to know, or are you just asking to be polite?
Barahir: [nods] It is truly that bad, then?
Urthel: Bad enough. The entire plain is overrun, and this time the Orcs are not alone. They have Trolls with them, and creatures of blasting flame that I have never seen before.
Barahir: [brushes ash off Radhruin’s beard] Creatures of flame?
Dagnir: Black sorcery if ever there was such seen. Do we hold here, then, until Lord Bregolas can aid us?
[Camera shift to look out gate. In the distance great bursts of fire light the sky. Camera focus on Barahir.]
Barahir: I doubt my brother will be able to give us help for some time. His hands well may be full with the bulk of our foes.
Radhruin: Few seemed to be headed this way. No more than five percent of their army, if my eyes were not fooled.
Dagnir: It is almost insulting, the way Morgoth takes our valour for granted.
Barahir: [to Radhruin] How close did you get to them?
Radhruin: No closer than I needed to be. Trust to that, Lord.
Barahir: [draws a long breath, glances up at palisade, slowly exhales] How long will they take to reach us?
Dagnir: Not before mid-morning, I should think.
Radhruin: They brought many supplies, and their train slows them.
Barahir: That is good. It will give us the time we need.
Camera shift to Emeldir, approaching. She is also armed and armoured in scale. Barahir turns toward her, smiles, and holds out his hand. She takes his hand and stands beside him.
Emeldir: What are you thinking, my love?
Barahir: That it is going to be a damned cold walk. [Camera cut to Men, confused.]
Radhruin: My lord?
Dagnir: You mean to make a fight of it here, right? We are not such cowards to run from these odds!
Barahir: [bitter laugh] Fight flame in a fortress of oiled wood? I think not. [to Urthel and Radhruin] I charge you both; get our people ready to move – now! No cattle, no carts, only horses to ride. And make sure they’re fast ones.
Urthel: [bows, walks off, shouting orders]
Radhruin: [mutters] Just when I thought the night couldn’t get worse . . .
Barahir: [to Dagnir] Since you are so eager to fight, my friend, I give you charge of our rear guard. Choose your men well. Do not risk yourselves needlessly, but make certain we have time to get our helpless ones to safety.
Dagnir: [bows] My lord, if I may… [uncertain] Your son –
Barahir: I told you to choose the men you think best for the job, my friend. The more you delay your choices, the more advantage our foe gains.
Dagnir: [bows, exits left, fast]
Camera cut to Emeldir, worried. Barahir hugs her.
Emeldir: Do not tell me that he is a man, husband.
Barahir: Then I will not, for you know it already. In this hour there is no promise of safety, only the chance of escape or, failing that, of a swift and honoured death.
Emeldir: [straightens, smooths her hair] Then my worry will only cost lives, if you must delay yourself to comfort me.
Barahir: [smiles] Just think of all that wool you have not finished carding.
Emeldir: You know I hate that job.
Barahir: Now you will never have to face it.
Emeldir: [slow smile, then smothered laugh. Tears shine on her cheeks. She turns and heads for a house.]
Barahir: [speaks to the sky] Ironmasters say the true test of a blade comes when it must endure anvil and forge. Now flame and ice and heavy blows will test our mettle and prove our temper. [closes fist] I swear to you, Balan, and to all my ancestors who swore the first oaths to defend this land, that we shall prove ourselves worthy. The ore with which we are made shall emerge from this, sharp and shining as the most deadly foes of our great enemy! [cut.]
* * * * * * *
Scene opens, focusing on the tops of the fir trees on the banks of the river with Tol Sirion in the background.... the sun is dipping low in the sky as it follows its path towards the Door of Night; it shines a golden hue onto the ice encrusted branches of the trees.... as the golden light hits the trees, they twinkle and sparkle like fairy lights on some holiday ....... gold and silver adorning the upper regions of Tol Sirion also shine in the light. (music in the background will be soft and lyrical with twinklings of bells in it)
The camera moves through the trees and at a lower angle. We see the rushing river babbling onwards, thin and broken sheets of watery ice along the banks in parts and it makes patterns dancing along the stones that give the water more speed..... we cross the river to Tol Sirion and on the banks is a mother rabbit in a nest with several babies…...... we see her leave the nest and she scampers up an embankment and goes towards the walls of the building ......above her the great bell of the watch tower tolls once to mark the passing of the hour....... her nose begins to twitch like crazy and she becomes agitated and nervous .... she looks around almost wary …... she advances further and stops and takes in several deep intakes of air and aroma ..... then the camera shifts perspective and we see what she is looking at:
several large carrion birds are picking at the eyes of a pile of Elves strewn at the base of the wall.... the birds appear to be a strange combination of different species - part reptile - part bat - part snake but mostly birds like vultures .... there are several of them and at least that many dead Elves at least seven or eight of them and they are in tatters with blood everywhere, trails of blood and innards lie across the frozen banks, indicating that the bodies have been dragged that way ...... one of the birds stops its breakfast and turns its head and looks menacingly at the rabbit who turns tail and scampers away......
the camera goes back to a more wide shot of the entire one side of the fortress and begins to climb up its side so we see it in detail...... the camera stops at the highest apartment in the great watchtower and we see through a glassy coloured window a hand lighting a lantern as the daylight fades..... In the room, Finrod begins to tend to the smouldering embers of a fire in the hearth and puts near a kettle to brew.....There is a knock at the door, and Edrahil enters with report of the day’s events…
Finrod: [anxiously] What news, my friend?
Edrahil: [grimly] Not good…the dragon has passed through Maglor’s gap, and destroyed all the lands between the arms of the River Gelion…Caranthir’s land is ravaged and Lake Helevorn defiled…
Finrod: his fortress at Mount Rerir?
Edrahil: Fallen…but the Hill of Himring still stands as a beacon of hope and defence. The people of Dorthonion and of the east marches have rallied there to Maedhros.
Finrod: Any word yet on the reinforcements we sent? [Edrahil shakes his head. Finrod turns to fire and holds out his hands to warm them, musing] And how long, I wonder, will we hold out here, against the unknown? How are our troops holding up? [the kettle starts to sing as it approaches the boil]
Edrahil: [uncomfortable] Still uneasy…moral is low since the attacks were discovered at sunrise. On my way to you I had to remind the change of watch of Fëanor’s words: “we are threatened with many evils…but let it not be said that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens…”
Finrod: [smiles ruefully] I am resigned to our fate now…but we will put up such a fight that the enemy will regret the day it crossed swords with the Lord of Nargothrond… [kettle boils rapidly] will you enjoy a cup with me whilst we may? [he grabs a jar and pulls out some leaves, reaching for a nicely carved mug on a nearby table when we hear a horrendous scream which causes him to turn sharply knocking over the mug which shatters on the stone floor. He looks down and the camera picks up the side of the mug broken in pieces with the two largest carved with the relief of the Finarfin family crest...... it has been split into pieces…Directly above, the great bell of the watch tower begins tolling rapidly…cut.]
* * *
Cut to shot of Finrod and Edrahil rushing out onto battlements: The guards are arrayed, looking down at the scene of desecration below…even the most hardened are visibly sickened and faces are pale…The two inspect the horror for themselves. Edrahil grimaces at Finrod, who nods in understanding.
Edrahil: The aid we sent to your brothers has been returned to us…. [ Fade]
* * * * * * *
Scene opens with an aerial shot of a team of four Elves working to pick up the dead corpses on the side banks of Tol Sirion. They wrap each body in a heavy cloth and pick up severed pieces and wrap them individually. The last bit of the sun begins to dip behind the tree line.
Change to ground level shot closer up
Elf 1: [blows on hands and stamps his feet] It is colder out here than that night we spent in Araman..
Elf 2: the temperature is falling, and fast ... let us hurry and finish this up before the bodies freeze to the ground and we need tools to pry them up!
Elf 3: [lifting the last of an arm onto the cart] well, that is the end of it…let us get inside, and quick about it. [As they begin to take their first steps to move off, they notice they are being watched by the same reptilian birds who were picking at the corpses. One of them utters a high pitched keening sound and the others join in producing an awful racket which has the effect of nails on a chalkboard]
Elf 1: [picks up a stone and throws it at one] Be off with you!
[The bird creature catches the stone it a talon. the Elves begin to get spooked and look to each other with looks of puzzlement upon their faces .... One of the birds takes a step towards the Elves and stops staring at them for few seconds.... suddenly, the bird cocks its head, as if listening to something inaudible to the elves…then as one the birds flap their large wings and take off across the frozen ice to the distant trees.]
Elf 3: those were no birds I have ever seen
Elf 4: I do not think they were birds at all - at least no bird of Manwë…
Elf 2: night approaches fast, we must get back now.
[The camera pulls back as they make their way under the bridge and pans up to another group of Elves on the battlements who have been watching this. Lightning crashes in the sky and the heavens open up with a torrential downpour that quickly changes to sleet. The Elves on the battlements take refuge indoors leaving guards outside.]
* * *
We dissolve from sleet to snow to blinding snow.... we see the guards on the battlements covered in ice and snow and the winds are beginning to rip tiles from the roofing and shutters off windows and openings. One of the Elves on sentry duty collapses and the other picks him up and makes his way to shelter reporting to his superior.
Elf 1: [nods to his superior] It is no good…conditions have deteriorated beyond anything we have seen before….I fear we will lose more friends this night if we do not abandon the watch!
Elven Officer: I pity even more those of our kin that suffered on the Helcaraxë if the tales are true that it were worse than this. You speak sense, Derufin…advise the night watch to abandon post. We must secure the fortress against the elements…and whatever unknown enemy that haunts us still.
Elf 1: …if any living creature could survive outside in such extreme conditions… [fade]
* * *
Fade back into wide shot of Tol Sirion
The snow has stopped and we have an aerial shot of the entire place covered in thick ice and snow like some polar palace ...... opening shot shows the moon full low in the sky making everything sparkle and twinkle like gems have completely covered the landscape and everything in it. Then we see a large force assembled on the banks across the river.... some go as far as the frozen ice of the river and others go back into the tree line and rocks.....they stretch out to a distance longer than the fortress and it is hard to tell exactly how many are there because of the trees.
In the midst is Sauron standing tall and proud. He is cloaked in a heavy robe coloured midnight blue. Around the edges of the wide belled sleeves and where the hem hits the snow and spreads out like a train, is a thick band of brocaded silver with many intricate designs resembling ancient runes. At least five hundred orcs are with him, possible many more stretching back into the forest. Around Sauron are pacing and nervous werewolves...... creatures a large as a modern tiger, appearing like wolves but with intelligence and purpose and far more malice and ferocity than any normal beast of nature. They mostly prowl on all fours but occasionally they stand up on their hind legs and beckon to the castle and issue menacing roars. More than once, they engage in pushing and snarling at their fellows until prodded and controlled by large orcs or silenced by a simple wave of the hand of Sauron in their direction.
And amongst the throng are what appear to be carved ice sculptures of ancient godlike beings. Creatures who blend into the ice and snow as if they were created by the storm itself. They are at least twice to three times as tall as any orc and even taller than Sauron himself. They have skin of a greyish ice blue that is almost transparent like the skin of a premature newborn baby. They wear no clothing of any kind. They are tall and lanky with long corded muscle and sinew that stretches across their frame like steel cable. They are not built like trolls but more like a tall modern basketball player. They have long grey and white hair stretching down to their mid back, thick, heavy eyebrows, and beards like Old Testament prophets. Their hands and feet seem stretched and elongated making them some half again as long as they would normally be proportioned on a human. The moonlight reflects off them like a mirror and they appear to be covered in patches of ice and snow themselves but show no sign of cold or discomfort.
They are at home in this environment. They do not move, they do not pace, they do not show any sign of life. They simply stand there or sit hunched on their haunches and wait patiently. Every other creature, from the werewolves to the orcs to beasts which defy description gives them several feet of empty space to call their own. They are The Helcaraukar, the Creatures of the ice covered mountain tops where no others dare travel. The ice giants assemble at the base of the fortress as the Elves on the battlements look down. The soldiers are muttering and passing worried looks amongst themselves.
Elf 1: what in the name of Eru are those outlandish, tall creatures?
Elf 2: they are strange to my eyes also. I have never seen anything like that.
Edrahil: I do not know, but they have werewolves with them, the evil spawn of Morgoth in Angband.
Finrod: [putting his hand to his chin and making a fist with the light of recognition and horror dawning on his face] When we crossed the Helcaraxë, many of our people were crushed by the ice and died from the bitter cold and elements. Others… his voice trails off] …others on the edges of our migration simply vanished with no cause. Some spoke of large creatures made of ice who picked off stragglers or children who became divided from the larger host. We tried to stop such talk but it was whispered nonetheless. [Orodreth appears, pushing through the ranks of elves along the battlements, straining to see what everyone is staring at...]
Elf 1: and are these the same creatures My Lord?
Finrod: [gravely] I do not know. But we had a name for those that we never saw and lived to talk about ..... we called them the Helcaraukar - the Ice Demons. [camera focus on Orodreth's face as he stares, bewildered, at the strange host arrayed in front of the fortress]
Orodreth: Demons carved from ice? ...our fortress is thick with it! That cannot be a coincidence...
Finrod: I fear we shall soon find out if the ice storm and the appearance of these creatures is mere coincidence or part of a larger scheme to rid the land of our kind. [turns and walks back into the keep, an agitated Orodreth trailing in his wake. Cut]
* * *
Camera cuts back to the banks and we see many orcs and other creatures becoming increasingly agitated, waving their weapons menacingly at the fortress, shouting threats, some jumping up and down to keep warm, others pacing frantically .... but the Helcaraukar stand or sit motionless like icebergs. [Cut.]
* * *
Cut to inside the keep: Elven soldiers are scattered the length of the Hall, attempting to take their minds off the impending battle by tending their weapons, etc. Some grab a last cup of wine or hunk of bread. They look morose, worried and uncertain.
Orodreth: [pacing restlessly, agitated] What are our chances, Uncle? The men are saying that we will not last the night against such foes…
Finrod: By my estimates, the enemy outnumbers us by 5-1…the odds are not good…
Orodreth: [frustrated] Then it is hopeless!!! We might as well flee back to Nargothrond and seek harbour there like the others of our kin who have been dispossessed and driven from their lands… [slams fist down on table, tearfully] Why do we not rally to cousin Maedhros at Himring! There I could at least avenge my father with honour, rather than die like rats, trapped in this bolt-hole!
Finrod: [quietly] You have seen what happened to the reinforcements we sent to your father three days ago…now, with Dorthonion overrun I do not believe any could gain passage there.
Orodreth: [blanches and looks away, his shoulders shaking] All that is left, then, is despair and dishonour…
Finrod: [puts hand on Orodreth’s shoulder] Orodreth…there is no disgrace in our actions here…nor do we face death needlessly. This fortress and island are of strategic importance to the safety of our people. Should we fall to the Dark Lord’s forces, then he will hold the western pass into Beleriand. Nothing will be able to pass through the vale without his knowledge…It is vital that we defend here until there is no chance of victory…
Orodreth: [takes deep breath and nods curtly] Your men have trusted you thus far…I will do the same…I know you will not lead us astray
Finrod: [Nods and then turns and stands on bench to address his men] Do not give into despair- that indeed is another trick of the enemy. You are the best hope I have. One cannot but wish we were greater in number, but even so, I would not lose so great an honour as to die in fellowship with you few, loyal friends. From this night to the ending of the world, we in it shall be remembered… for he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother… and those that lie safe elsewhere shall curse themselves for not being here with us when we sing the tales of our valour in later days! [Finrod touches his right fist to his collarbone in the Elven manner of salute to his men. The soldiers return the gesture as one… Fade.]
* * * * * * *
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
~Diana Cortes
Fade into the dark of the night at Tol Sirion:
The camera pans the walls and battlements and we see the Elves awaiting the attack. The guards watch as around a quarter of the host of Sauron, including the Helcaraukar, leaves the banks of the frozen river and depart into the thick woods. Finrod suspects something and every man is on the battlements and in positions to defend the fortress. Pure silence rules the night and frosty breath rises in the bitter cold. We have a few intercut scenes of simply watching and nothing happening. After about 20 seconds of this, a piercing and loud roar splits the night…
All attention is turned to the front of the fortress as at least 100 of Sauron’s army rushes from the cover of the trees, charging towards the gatehouse which guards the front of the bridge. Most are orcs about five feet high and slightly bowed. Among them are a few werewolves, and some unfamiliar, hideous gargoyle-like creatures that appear to be mostly reptilian in a nature with mottled greenish skin, bodies a bit smaller than orcs; they have two arms but they are stunted and smaller than what would be normal. False ribs covered by a thin membrane extend outward like shortened bat wings from the creatures’ bodies and appear to be made of some material like the scaled skin of a snake…they are the Ulundar…A command is given upon the battlements to await the signal to cut down the attackers should they break through….
The perspective shifts to about twenty men inside the upper area of the gatehouse which stretches above the massive gates and between the two stone towers which anchor both sides. The gates are made of iron - two sections - each as tall as three Elves standing upon each others shoulders and each as wide as three more laid end to end. The gates are made up of intricately designed iron branches, thorns and leaves which have been made to look like a thick briar patch. While you can see through the gates in the spaces between the branches and thorns and leaves, they are dense and occupy a distance of perhaps two feet thick.
Many orcs are carrying bundles of sticks and kindling while others seem to be carrying animal skins which drip with some substance they have been soaked with. Others carry burning torches. As the orcs and werewolves rush forward, a score of defenders in the gatehouse fire arrows at the attackers but cannot kill them all.... When any orc falls, others rush out to replace them and pick up their burden. Many are killed, many are replaced…
The orcs begin placing the sticks and kindling at the base of the gatehouse and the torch bearers light the bundles. Many more orcs are skewered and die only to be replaced. As the flames build, the animal skins are thrown upon the fire and it quickly exudes a thick and oily deep black smoke which rises cutting off the view of those inside the gatehouse.
Cut to interior scene of the blinded Elves now choking and coughing from the smoke: Another roar goes up as a further unit of orcs appears from the woods, carrying a very large tree that they have chopped down and fashioned crudely into a battering ram, leaving stumpy branches protruding to act as handles…orcs and other creatures charge at the gatehouse in an attempt to smash the gates open whilst the defenders are distracted… Some of the Ulundar grab some of the burning skins and climb to the top of the gatehouse, and place the burning skins on the tiled roof...... after a minute the roof begins to burn and the place is covered in thick smoke both from above and below.
Cut to Elves upon the battlements – they cannot pick out a target and are powerless to take any action.
All attention is riveted upon the gatehouse and the fate of the twenty or so Elves who are trapped inside. After several hefty blows the iron buckles and the gates are partially smashed open just enough to allow entry. Hundreds of orcs erupt onto the bridge, charging across its length towards the heavy wooden gates of the main entrance of the fortress
Finrod orders every available man to the front of the fortress and a hail of arrows comes from the fortress felling scores or orcs...Some orcs try to use the same tree-ram to attack the larger gates but it is hopelessly entangled in the original gates and now the whole front guardhouse is thick in fire and smoke … as many orcs struggle to free the tree from the twisted gates, a section of the gatehouse collapses upon them closing off the entry in fire, stone and corpses.
The orcs already on the bridge begin banging on the massive wooden gates of the fortress. Many have axes and pikes and they begin trying to chop holes in the wood but it is made of a very hard wood and their efforts yield little reward but they keep it up just the same. Other orcs behind them become increasingly agitated, jumping and screaming and waving their weapons up at those above. It is as if the gates of hell have opened up and all its demons have been unleashed.
Change perspective to high above the gates:
Finrod: How long will those gates hold?
Elf: They are made of the hardest woods we could find my lord. They are several feet thick and are reinforced with bands of iron and metal. But even then a force such as that with proper tools can get through eventually.
Finrod: [becoming angry and impatient] How long.. how long do we have?
Elf: I cannot say for sure but a few hours at best - maybe as many as five or six.[we get a quick overhead shot of the defenders of the main gates having some success holding off their attackers.]
Cut to a shot of the rear of the fortress and the thick trees on the banks of the river: One by one, then in two’s and threes the giant ice demons begin to emerge from the trees. They are accompanied by an equal number of large werewolves and they make their way across the ice bound waterway…camera focuses on their feet as they pass by and we see hairline fissures appear in the ice… the ice demons come right up to the sheer ice covered walls of Tol Sirion. Each of the ice demons reaches down and grabs a werewolf by the back of the neck and places it upon its back where the werewolf wraps its front paws around the neck of the ice demon.
The camera changes perspective from above and we see a line of a dozen ice demons on the ground beginning to dig their fingers and toes into the ice covering the walls. As they slowly gain a few feet, they reach higher and climb again. It is a slow process and they are hampered by the agitated werewolves but slowly but surely they gain some 50 feet high on the curtain wall using the 90 degree angle formed by the extended ribbings to help them gain purchase. Each of the ice demons uses the ribbing for its right hand and foot and uses the intersecting curtain wall for its left hand and foot. They are one third of the way up.
We get a top down camera angle of the Helcaraukar continuing their slow and laborious climb. Archers begin to fire arrows downward at the ice demons. Elves are now everywhere firing arrows, some leaning over the sides, some firing from machicolations through holes in the floor put there just for that purpose, some from turrets built on the rear corners of the fortress which project outward giving them a better angle at their targets. Many arrows find their targets striking the ice demons but few are noticed or have any real effect. Some even slide or glide off the large creatures as if they themselves are made of ice which cannot be penetrated.
we cut to some Elves in a turret in the rear corner of the fortress:
Archer #1: Does nothing stop these beasts? I have scored a half dozen direct hits but they keep on coming just the same.”
Archer #2: As have I. We must keep firing and hope their progress will be slowed as their wounds increase!
cut to a view directly outside the castle wall: An ice demon is directly under a large sculpture of an eagle with its wings spread. It is done in a bas relief style and juts out a few feet from the castle face. The ice demon reaches one hand up towards the body of the carved eagle and moves its feet higher on the wall. Then it swings all its weight out and up like an acrobat while holding on with that one hand. He ends up perched upon the outstretched wings of the sculpture where he attracts more fire.
Cut to another ice demon who is using the ribbings to help him balance: An arrow strikes a werewolf clinging to his back just below the eye and the werewolf begins to snarl and bite and stands up on two legs on the back of the ice demon and nearly falls over until the ice demon reaches out with one hand and pulls the werewolf off his back and holds him out at arms length. For the first time we hear a sound made by the Helcarauko. He utters a low bass howl that sounds like a combination of a massive wind and a freight train coming through a tunnel. A thick, foggy mist emerges from his mouth as he howls and it is ice blue and grey evaporating to mist after it clings to the face of the werewolf for a few seconds. He shakes the werewolf and makes a motion like he will smash the wolf against the walls of the castle. The werewolf yelps and nearly shrivels up into a ball of fur obviously getting the message. The ice demon returns him to his back and continues to climb upwards.
Cut to a panoramic shot from outside the castle showing all the Helcaraukar climbing upwards. Some swing from one bas relief sculpture to other positions, some are using the ribbings, some are climbing straight up like a fly.
The camera pans around in a half circle showing us the entire assault upon the castle and all those who are taking part. Then the shot telescopes and we see who is looking at this scene - we get a shot of Sauron, now on the banks of the frozen river, surrounded by his minions, waiting patiently for the Helcaraukar to close the last part of the distance.
As one of the ice demons is just some thirty feet from the top, a group of archers struggle with a large cauldron of some boiling liquid. They position it atop some crenellations and begin pouring it through the floor openings. The boiling liquid strikes the ice demon and his burden and both yell out in pain and the demon loses his grip.... he struggles as he slides down the wall in panic trying desperately to regain his purchase but without any success. After a slide of some fifty feet, he loses all contact with the wall and plunges downward crashing hard to the frozen river below with his werewolf under him. We hear is a loud yelp from the werewolf as he is crushed, then the impact causes the weakened ice to break open fully as the demon and werewolf disappear under into the inky water below.
Cut to Elves atop the battlements:
Elven Officer: We have our answer. Quickly, we need more like that to drown these beasts.
Another Elf: they do not like heat... We must fight ice with fire ... try flaming arrows on these demons!
Cut to Elves hurrying to get more of the needed weapons but it is now nearly too late as the Helcaraukar have reached near the top of the castle. As each closes to within twenty feet of the top, they stop and reach back and grab their passengers with one hand. They grab the werewolves by the back of the neck and fling them like grenades being lobbed over the wall where they land among the Elves and begin to wreak destruction and death as the archers attempt to switch weapons from arrows to swords. Within ten seconds at least ten such creatures are launched. Only one fails to reach his destination crashing just inches short of the top and bouncing off falling to the ground below. The ice demon who flung him, his arms and torso riddled with arrows, issues a howl of both pain and anguish.
Cut to a scene of the ten werewolves moving with the speed of a whirlwind: They seem to be everywhere at once slashing with their long claws, biting at hands, arms and heads, and battling with Elves who seem not to know how to fight the beasts at such close quarters. And in the background we see the Helcaraukar climbing over the battlements and getting ready to join in the close quarters combat. [Fade.]
* * * * * * *
Fade in on dark forest in Ladros: Camera focus down the slope on a large group of Orcs, Trolls, and possibly a Balrog or two attacking a small settlement and destroying everything in their path. Trees fall, fences are torn to pieces, buildings are knocked down and/or burned. Camera focus on Orcs reveling in the destruction.
Camera pan up slope to a path much higher: A group of Men moves quietly over the slope of the hill. Some, mostly children and old people, ride horses. Most walk, carrying baskets and bundles. Some are armed, all are wary. They occasionally glance down at the Orcs, but none make a sound.
Camera shift down slope to a group of Men hidden in trees: They are armed with bows, swords, and halberds or axes. They watch the Orcs carefully. Camera focus on Beren, a very young man perched on a branch, with a bow and quiver. He looks both eager and frightened. Camera shift to Dagnir and Arthad, on ground.
Dagnir: [whisper] Curse them for sons of slime!
Arthad: [whisper] Be grateful. They give our people time to get to safety.
Dagnir: It galls me to stand helpless while they destroy all we have built!
Arthad: On the other hand, would you wish to be the one to tell our lord that your impatience endangered his only son?
Dagnir: [glances up slope] It is clear. Let us get out of here. [motions others to move up slope. All do, slowly and carefully, using cover of trees, brush, and darkness. Camera focus on Beren, still on his branch.]
Dagnir: [whisper] Beren!
Beren: [slips arrow into quiver, slides down tree, joins Men. Glances back. Camera follows to burning farm.]
[Camera follows Beren up to the path. Fade.]
* * * * * * *
The camera pans the walls and battlements and we see the Elves awaiting the attack. The guards watch as around a quarter of the host of Sauron, including the Helcaraukar, leaves the banks of the frozen river and depart into the thick woods. Finrod suspects something and every man is on the battlements and in positions to defend the fortress. Pure silence rules the night and frosty breath rises in the bitter cold. We have a few intercut scenes of simply watching and nothing happening. After about 20 seconds of this, a piercing and loud roar splits the night…
All attention is turned to the front of the fortress as at least 100 of Sauron’s army rushes from the cover of the trees, charging towards the gatehouse which guards the front of the bridge. Most are orcs about five feet high and slightly bowed. Among them are a few werewolves, and some unfamiliar, hideous gargoyle-like creatures that appear to be mostly reptilian in a nature with mottled greenish skin, bodies a bit smaller than orcs; they have two arms but they are stunted and smaller than what would be normal. False ribs covered by a thin membrane extend outward like shortened bat wings from the creatures’ bodies and appear to be made of some material like the scaled skin of a snake…they are the Ulundar…A command is given upon the battlements to await the signal to cut down the attackers should they break through….
The perspective shifts to about twenty men inside the upper area of the gatehouse which stretches above the massive gates and between the two stone towers which anchor both sides. The gates are made of iron - two sections - each as tall as three Elves standing upon each others shoulders and each as wide as three more laid end to end. The gates are made up of intricately designed iron branches, thorns and leaves which have been made to look like a thick briar patch. While you can see through the gates in the spaces between the branches and thorns and leaves, they are dense and occupy a distance of perhaps two feet thick.
Many orcs are carrying bundles of sticks and kindling while others seem to be carrying animal skins which drip with some substance they have been soaked with. Others carry burning torches. As the orcs and werewolves rush forward, a score of defenders in the gatehouse fire arrows at the attackers but cannot kill them all.... When any orc falls, others rush out to replace them and pick up their burden. Many are killed, many are replaced…
The orcs begin placing the sticks and kindling at the base of the gatehouse and the torch bearers light the bundles. Many more orcs are skewered and die only to be replaced. As the flames build, the animal skins are thrown upon the fire and it quickly exudes a thick and oily deep black smoke which rises cutting off the view of those inside the gatehouse.
Cut to interior scene of the blinded Elves now choking and coughing from the smoke: Another roar goes up as a further unit of orcs appears from the woods, carrying a very large tree that they have chopped down and fashioned crudely into a battering ram, leaving stumpy branches protruding to act as handles…orcs and other creatures charge at the gatehouse in an attempt to smash the gates open whilst the defenders are distracted… Some of the Ulundar grab some of the burning skins and climb to the top of the gatehouse, and place the burning skins on the tiled roof...... after a minute the roof begins to burn and the place is covered in thick smoke both from above and below.
Cut to Elves upon the battlements – they cannot pick out a target and are powerless to take any action.
All attention is riveted upon the gatehouse and the fate of the twenty or so Elves who are trapped inside. After several hefty blows the iron buckles and the gates are partially smashed open just enough to allow entry. Hundreds of orcs erupt onto the bridge, charging across its length towards the heavy wooden gates of the main entrance of the fortress
Finrod orders every available man to the front of the fortress and a hail of arrows comes from the fortress felling scores or orcs...Some orcs try to use the same tree-ram to attack the larger gates but it is hopelessly entangled in the original gates and now the whole front guardhouse is thick in fire and smoke … as many orcs struggle to free the tree from the twisted gates, a section of the gatehouse collapses upon them closing off the entry in fire, stone and corpses.
The orcs already on the bridge begin banging on the massive wooden gates of the fortress. Many have axes and pikes and they begin trying to chop holes in the wood but it is made of a very hard wood and their efforts yield little reward but they keep it up just the same. Other orcs behind them become increasingly agitated, jumping and screaming and waving their weapons up at those above. It is as if the gates of hell have opened up and all its demons have been unleashed.
Change perspective to high above the gates:
Finrod: How long will those gates hold?
Elf: They are made of the hardest woods we could find my lord. They are several feet thick and are reinforced with bands of iron and metal. But even then a force such as that with proper tools can get through eventually.
Finrod: [becoming angry and impatient] How long.. how long do we have?
Elf: I cannot say for sure but a few hours at best - maybe as many as five or six.[we get a quick overhead shot of the defenders of the main gates having some success holding off their attackers.]
Cut to a shot of the rear of the fortress and the thick trees on the banks of the river: One by one, then in two’s and threes the giant ice demons begin to emerge from the trees. They are accompanied by an equal number of large werewolves and they make their way across the ice bound waterway…camera focuses on their feet as they pass by and we see hairline fissures appear in the ice… the ice demons come right up to the sheer ice covered walls of Tol Sirion. Each of the ice demons reaches down and grabs a werewolf by the back of the neck and places it upon its back where the werewolf wraps its front paws around the neck of the ice demon.
The camera changes perspective from above and we see a line of a dozen ice demons on the ground beginning to dig their fingers and toes into the ice covering the walls. As they slowly gain a few feet, they reach higher and climb again. It is a slow process and they are hampered by the agitated werewolves but slowly but surely they gain some 50 feet high on the curtain wall using the 90 degree angle formed by the extended ribbings to help them gain purchase. Each of the ice demons uses the ribbing for its right hand and foot and uses the intersecting curtain wall for its left hand and foot. They are one third of the way up.
We get a top down camera angle of the Helcaraukar continuing their slow and laborious climb. Archers begin to fire arrows downward at the ice demons. Elves are now everywhere firing arrows, some leaning over the sides, some firing from machicolations through holes in the floor put there just for that purpose, some from turrets built on the rear corners of the fortress which project outward giving them a better angle at their targets. Many arrows find their targets striking the ice demons but few are noticed or have any real effect. Some even slide or glide off the large creatures as if they themselves are made of ice which cannot be penetrated.
we cut to some Elves in a turret in the rear corner of the fortress:
Archer #1: Does nothing stop these beasts? I have scored a half dozen direct hits but they keep on coming just the same.”
Archer #2: As have I. We must keep firing and hope their progress will be slowed as their wounds increase!
cut to a view directly outside the castle wall: An ice demon is directly under a large sculpture of an eagle with its wings spread. It is done in a bas relief style and juts out a few feet from the castle face. The ice demon reaches one hand up towards the body of the carved eagle and moves its feet higher on the wall. Then it swings all its weight out and up like an acrobat while holding on with that one hand. He ends up perched upon the outstretched wings of the sculpture where he attracts more fire.
Cut to another ice demon who is using the ribbings to help him balance: An arrow strikes a werewolf clinging to his back just below the eye and the werewolf begins to snarl and bite and stands up on two legs on the back of the ice demon and nearly falls over until the ice demon reaches out with one hand and pulls the werewolf off his back and holds him out at arms length. For the first time we hear a sound made by the Helcarauko. He utters a low bass howl that sounds like a combination of a massive wind and a freight train coming through a tunnel. A thick, foggy mist emerges from his mouth as he howls and it is ice blue and grey evaporating to mist after it clings to the face of the werewolf for a few seconds. He shakes the werewolf and makes a motion like he will smash the wolf against the walls of the castle. The werewolf yelps and nearly shrivels up into a ball of fur obviously getting the message. The ice demon returns him to his back and continues to climb upwards.
Cut to a panoramic shot from outside the castle showing all the Helcaraukar climbing upwards. Some swing from one bas relief sculpture to other positions, some are using the ribbings, some are climbing straight up like a fly.
The camera pans around in a half circle showing us the entire assault upon the castle and all those who are taking part. Then the shot telescopes and we see who is looking at this scene - we get a shot of Sauron, now on the banks of the frozen river, surrounded by his minions, waiting patiently for the Helcaraukar to close the last part of the distance.
As one of the ice demons is just some thirty feet from the top, a group of archers struggle with a large cauldron of some boiling liquid. They position it atop some crenellations and begin pouring it through the floor openings. The boiling liquid strikes the ice demon and his burden and both yell out in pain and the demon loses his grip.... he struggles as he slides down the wall in panic trying desperately to regain his purchase but without any success. After a slide of some fifty feet, he loses all contact with the wall and plunges downward crashing hard to the frozen river below with his werewolf under him. We hear is a loud yelp from the werewolf as he is crushed, then the impact causes the weakened ice to break open fully as the demon and werewolf disappear under into the inky water below.
Cut to Elves atop the battlements:
Elven Officer: We have our answer. Quickly, we need more like that to drown these beasts.
Another Elf: they do not like heat... We must fight ice with fire ... try flaming arrows on these demons!
Cut to Elves hurrying to get more of the needed weapons but it is now nearly too late as the Helcaraukar have reached near the top of the castle. As each closes to within twenty feet of the top, they stop and reach back and grab their passengers with one hand. They grab the werewolves by the back of the neck and fling them like grenades being lobbed over the wall where they land among the Elves and begin to wreak destruction and death as the archers attempt to switch weapons from arrows to swords. Within ten seconds at least ten such creatures are launched. Only one fails to reach his destination crashing just inches short of the top and bouncing off falling to the ground below. The ice demon who flung him, his arms and torso riddled with arrows, issues a howl of both pain and anguish.
Cut to a scene of the ten werewolves moving with the speed of a whirlwind: They seem to be everywhere at once slashing with their long claws, biting at hands, arms and heads, and battling with Elves who seem not to know how to fight the beasts at such close quarters. And in the background we see the Helcaraukar climbing over the battlements and getting ready to join in the close quarters combat. [Fade.]
* * * * * * *
Fade in on dark forest in Ladros: Camera focus down the slope on a large group of Orcs, Trolls, and possibly a Balrog or two attacking a small settlement and destroying everything in their path. Trees fall, fences are torn to pieces, buildings are knocked down and/or burned. Camera focus on Orcs reveling in the destruction.
Camera pan up slope to a path much higher: A group of Men moves quietly over the slope of the hill. Some, mostly children and old people, ride horses. Most walk, carrying baskets and bundles. Some are armed, all are wary. They occasionally glance down at the Orcs, but none make a sound.
Camera shift down slope to a group of Men hidden in trees: They are armed with bows, swords, and halberds or axes. They watch the Orcs carefully. Camera focus on Beren, a very young man perched on a branch, with a bow and quiver. He looks both eager and frightened. Camera shift to Dagnir and Arthad, on ground.
Dagnir: [whisper] Curse them for sons of slime!
Arthad: [whisper] Be grateful. They give our people time to get to safety.
Dagnir: It galls me to stand helpless while they destroy all we have built!
Arthad: On the other hand, would you wish to be the one to tell our lord that your impatience endangered his only son?
Dagnir: [glances up slope] It is clear. Let us get out of here. [motions others to move up slope. All do, slowly and carefully, using cover of trees, brush, and darkness. Camera focus on Beren, still on his branch.]
Dagnir: [whisper] Beren!
Beren: [slips arrow into quiver, slides down tree, joins Men. Glances back. Camera follows to burning farm.]
[Camera follows Beren up to the path. Fade.]
* * * * * * *
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
~Diana Cortes
Fade back to assault on Tol Sirion:
Cut to the front of the massive Tol Sirion gates where the orcs finally succeed in chopping a large hole in the wood. Several werewolves leap through in quick succession attacking Elves on the other side. Several of the beasts are hewn down with arrows and swords but others make it through healthy enough to attack and kill. They are followed by orcs, one of whom makes it to the mechanism and begins to open the gates for the rest of Sauron’s army.
Cut to a shot right in the middle of everything with the camera close-up on the action. We see wolves attacking and biting, Elves with swords fighting orcs with spears and axes and other weapons, and the gargoyle creatures in the midst of it all tearing at Elven flesh with their talons.
As the gates finally begin to open, the flood rushes in and overwhelms the remaining Elves and it is sheer one sided destruction.
*
Cut to shots of elves on the battlements, led by Edrahil, being equally depleted by the Helcaraukar and werewolves…
*
Cut to shots of the Helcaraukar ripping into the stables where some elves are taking refuge with the horses...the terrified animals rear in fright, kicking at the walls as the elves lunge and slash at the ice-demons. Some other elves come to the rescue with flaming brands, driving the Helcaraukar back so the others can free the horses. One of the elves with a brand is attacked from behind and sent sprawling...the torch flies from his hands and lands on some straw inside the stables, setting it a blaze....an orc amid a group fighting nearby sees what is happening and comments about roast horse being on the menu...the other orcs grunt and roar their approval. Camera angle changes to view from behind the orcs standing their ground with their weapons raised as the frantic horses burst out of the stables towards them.
*
Cut back to Finrod and the remaining elves attempting to go to the aid of those defenders left on the battlements. Once up the stairs Finrod sees that the situation is hopeless and calls for the defenders to retreat to the lower levels.
Some of the Elves make their way down zigzagging wooden stairs attached to the wall of the battlements. Edrahil and two other elves attempt to hold off the attacking orcs and Helcaraukar whilst the others escape. Most of the fleeing elves get onto the stairs as the valiant few begin to falter. One is despatched by a vicious blow to the neck. The other is hamstrung…Edrahil hesitates, weighing up the chances of getting the injured elf to safety.
Poldon: Go! Mandos beckons for me…there is no point wasting yourself on my account.
Edrahil: [desperately] Poldon…you have been a steadfast companion to me, and have served Lord Finrod faithfully – I salute your courage, though it grieves me to leave you to this fate…
Poldon: [shakes head, his breathing harsh…] Hurry, whilst I still have the strength to hold a few more of these brutes off!
Edrahil: [Nods grimly. speaks softly] Namarië, my friend…may Mandos judge you kindly for your actions today. [turns and runs down the stairs. We watch as Poldon is eventually overwhelmed by the enemy and receives his deathblow. The Valaraukar trample his body as they grab hold of the staircase and wrench it free from the wall, sending those elves still on the stairs tumbling to the stone courtyard below. Edrahil manages to miraculously find a soft landing in some hay near the stables which hasn't yet caught light. Others are not so lucky...cut.]
*
Cut to shot of a complete tower collapsing, killing lots of both eves and the enemy: The elves have by now discovered how to destroy the Helcaraukar with fire, and the number has been halved. But stray flaming arrows and torches have caused the keep, already overrun, to catch fire...The rooftops of various towers are in flames and timbers are falling to the ground, killing and maiming elves and orcs alike. All the remaining elves, say 25-30, barricade themselves into the hall, sealing off temporarily the other levels of the castle from the invading enemy.
*
Cut to shot of a couple of Ulundar climbing to the top of the bell tower: They rip open the closed shutters and attack the elves up there. We have a gratuitous shot of the elves being tossed out of the open shutters to their deaths...then shots of the Ulundar doing their flying lizard thing on the way down, leaping from ledge to ledge.
*
Cut to shot of several Ulundar climbing up onto the hall roof and gaining access that way, ripping and tearing at the elves inside.
Orodreth: [looks up, clearly frightened] Finrod! The Ulundar…they are breaking in! [Debris falls. Edrahil lifts a small shield to protect himself and Orodreth. Finrod shields his face with one arm.]
Finrod: [to Orodreth] Be easy. The waiting is the worst part.
Orodreth: [nods, still frightened. Grips sword more tightly]
Finrod: [commanding, in Quenya] Let them come! Our foes shall rue their fate! [Elves charge the Ulundar, cheering]
Some Ulundar now inside the Hall swing on a large overhead chandelier and it finally breaks loose, crashing into the Elven defenders. Edrahil is not critically hurt, but gets trapped under it, and Orodreth fights his way down to free him. . An Ulundo approached Edrahil where he lays trapped. Orodreth’s sword catches the Ulundo’s strike.
Orodreth: Well met, foul spawn of Morgoth...Face me and hasten your doom! [they fight. Orodreth opens the creature’s belly, then beheads it with the backstroke.] That is for my father!
Edrahil: [frees himself during the fight. Rises, covered in dust] Your father is reborn this day in his son.
Finrod step out from under some fallen debris. By this time orcs etc have also broken in through the windows. Several advance, clearly pleased as Finrod is covered in dust and bleeding from several scratches and surrounded by several Ulundar who are strutting, and bobbing their heads aggressively...
Orc 1: [chuckles] Elves will make a tender stew! [the Ulundar issue guttural hisses]
Orc 2: Stand easy and it won’t hurt you too much! [an Ulundo reaches for Finrod]
Finrod: [draws a long breath, swings sword: ulundo’s arm flies some distance] Not this day! The darkness take you! [charges Ulundar. all fall. Camera shift to Hall. More of the enemy are flooding through the doors and windows.]
Finrod: Retreat! Save yourselves as best you can! [Elves begin a fighting retreat from Hall.]
*
By this time most of the elves have been killed off, leaving just Finrod, Edrahil, Orodreth, and maybe 6-8 others. They back their way out from the upper level of the Hall onto the battlements, fighting assorted werewolves and orcs. It is a losing battle: as fast as one foul servant is dispatched, others take its place. The elves slash and thrust and charge the enemy with all their strength but they continue to lose ground.
Finrod: [urgently] It is no good...our cause is lost!
Orodreth: No! [parries strike from an orc to his left and brings his knee up into the orc's abdomen, and then landing a killing blow as the orc is doubled over.]
Edrahil: [finishes off a werewolf with a smooth slicing movement of his blade...shakes his head] We must make our escape whilst we can - I do not think the Master of these brutes will be inclined to offer us clemency, should we even still breathe when he takes control... [spins and despatches another orc behind him]
Orodreth: [Looks around , glancing over the edge of the battlements: it is a shear drop of around 100 feet.] But...how?
Finrod: Inside the base of the watchtower... [grunts as he parries and thrusts with more orcs] ..there is a hidden tunnel...go! They fight their way slowly backwards along the battlements towards the great tower...]
One of the werewolves, larger than the rest, obviously the pack leader, has been hanging back, directing the attack from a vantage point. Now he sees that the strongest elves – Finrod and Edrahil are tiring – he also doesn’t want them to escape - and decides to move in for the kill…it is Draugluin, sire of all the werewolves in Beleriand…
Draugluin stands before Finrod, isolating him from his companions; he rears up back on his two hind legs and stands nearly nine feet tall and as wide as any two elves side by side. Each forearm is as long as and elven longsword and the claws which end each paw are a good six inches long. His fur is jet black and shines in the icy moonlight. His eyes burn a bright gold and he lets out a mighty roar throwing his forearms outwards at the cold air. He stares directly at Finrod in an obvious challenge.
Finrod dispatches a smaller orc by a quick sword thrust to his throat. Edrahil and two or three Elves realize what is happening and attempt to come to his aid... several Elves attack the werewolf with swords and torches but he makes quick order of them severing the head of one with a swipe of his claws and snapping off the sword arm of another by simply biting through it.
Finrod: [emphatically] Stay back! This beast has waited until we are tired and worn down to make his intent known. Let us hope I can buy us some time. Use the cover of the battle to take Orodreth and the others and use the escape passage and go through the forests to safety. He is my heir now....and must live to fight another day. ..
[Finrod and Draugluin square off while there is battle around them. neither wants to make the first move leaving them open to attack so them move around each other in opposite circles for a bit…]
Edrahil: [anxiously] We cannot leave you my lord. And Orodreth is filled with battle spirit and will not leave either.
[Draugluin tenses, ready to pounce…suddenly he springs at Finrod…]
Finrod: [panting as he dodges the lunge from the wolf whose claws skitter and slip on the icy surface of the battlements as he misses his target] Who is your King and whom do you obey? This is not open to debate ...Watch for your moment and do as you are ordered.
Edrahil: [pauses a few seconds and then nods curtly. answers reluctantly:] As my lord commands... It will be done…’though we would rather die here today.
Draugluin finally gains purchase on the slick stones and gathers himself again, expanding his muscles and watching the dancing elf with hate in his eyes and saliva dripping from his muzzle; he opens his jaw abnormally wide in a grimace…
Finrod: [shouts to Edrahil] Live to die another day and before that take many of this evil spawn with you!
A tall ice demon saunters up to the group and Edrahil and the others peel off to combine their might against him leaving Finrod to face the werewolf alone.
We then get quick and short shots of the Finrod/Draugluin fight intermixed with Edrahil managing to leave the area and go to the lower levels, along the way having to kill a few stray orcs who are attempting to loot the place. These two different action sequences will be intercut and go back and forth at the most opportune moments.
Finrod and Draugluin square off amid a sea of others fighting. Finrod brandishes his long-sword at the wolf who leaps towards him howling...... Finrod sidesteps him and uses a slashing move to cut the wolf along his hind quarters - not deeply but enough to draw a good amount of blood. Draugluin lands and pivots and sees he has been cut. He realizes the long-sword can possibly kill him.
*
cut to Edrahil and company (no more than a dozen people) making way downwards . Edrahil sounds the retreat on a silver horn.
*
Cut back to Finrod and Draugluin: Draugluin knocks over a pile of barrels which crash towards Finrod, one striking his sword arm and his weapon crashes to the stone floor. As Finrod looks to find it, Draugluin leaps across the distance and lands upon him causing both to roll hard to the stone floor.
The wolf has Finrod pinned to the ground and he kicks his head back and roars yet another time as he pulls his forearm back to strike a death blow at the head of the Elf. As his forearm comes down Finrod has used a free hand to reach into his belt and pull out a knife which he uses to strike the wolf directly in the soft flesh of his paw before the claws can rip into Elven flesh. Draugluin yelps and winces and rolls off Finrod seeking to put some distance between them.
*
Cut to Edrahil and group arriving at escape tunnel : The entrance to the secret tunnel is located inside the base of the tower…there is a small door at ground level inside the stairwell that leads down some steps to an apparent dead end stone wall… the stones of Tol Sirion are infused with the natural Eldar magic, like most Elvenhomes are, and the tunnel entrance is a hidden door like Moria, with invisible magical elven runes... Edrahil opens the door and some of the elves begin the descent..He realizes Orodreth is not with them…
Edrahil: [Elvish expletive!] Damn the boy! where is he? He knows his uncle's orders...
Inglor: He has turned back...a fierce spirit burns brightly in him and he would not be denied his wish to stand alongside his uncle.
Edrahil: This elfling will be the death of me....the rest of you go on! We will catch you up... [turns and runs back up the steps]
*
Cut back to the battle: we see elves with torches trying to keep ice demons at bay, orcs fighting other elves, werewolves and elves fighting --- a real sea of violent chaos and in the midst of it all if Finrod standing upon a higher stone structure ready for another attack from Draugluin .....suddenly he is hit from behind by the large fist of an ice demon which knocks him from his perch to the ground below .......
Draugluin: [angry and proud] NO! The Elf is mine… [he allows Finrod to compose himself and rise as the ice demon turns without emotion and lays into some Elves]
Finrod: You should have pressed your advantage while you had it…
Draugluin : Here is my advantage! [he reaches to the floor and with almost superhuman effort pries a iron grating from the stonework with his jaws...... he raises his head and flings it at Finrod who manages to throw himself hard and fast to the ground but then finds himself nearly crushed by the body of Draugluin who used the grate as a ruse to distract him for the charge and leap. Finrod appears empty handed and momentarily dazed and disoriented. Draugluin again roars loudly, grabs Finrod by the hair and prepares to issue a decapitating death blow with the opposite paw......
*
Cut to Orodreth running up the steps from the watchtower: he lifts his weapon high and charges towards Draugluin with a roar, distracting him momentarily. Finrod seizes the chance to extricate himself , wriggling free from the wolf’s grip ; he picks up a fallen sword from a dead orc, leaps upon the back of the wolf, pulling back his head, and prepares to slash his throat from ear to ear... Edrahil arrives on the scene, grabs Orodreth and propels him backwards towards the tower again.
Suddenly the moon is blotted out by a dark shape overhead…it is a swarm of vampire bats, who suddenly dive-bomb the elves (and a few of the enemy in the process) The elves are besieged by the winged creatures, their screeches drove the blood from their veins and the strength from their knees. Finrod has no choice but to release Draugluin to protect himself from a particularly large and vicious bat. There is a dramatic silence from Sauron’s host.....we wait for their reaction.....they decide to slowly close in and kill Finrod off anyway...
Suddenly a deep and commanding voice rings out: “Stay your weapons” Draugluin immediately retreats to a safe distance, tossing his great head slowly, as if stretching cramped muscles. He looks back at Finrod, and nods in respect, though the humiliation of defeat burns strongly in his yellow eyes. Nobody moves a muscle as Sauron steps on to the battlements and makes his proclamation. The bats pull away from their victims, forming a black cloud that swirls as though caught in a twister, spiralling up to the bell tower to claim their new residence.. all except one larger bat which glides silently over to hang from the eaves of the nearest turret overlooking the scene below. Sauron makes his way through the crowd and they part like the Red Sea before Moses for him.
Sauron: [calmly, to his troops] Let him go…the fortress is ours! [to Finrod:] You have earned your life…I have your stronghold and I have earned that. Go now before I change my mind.
Draugluin: [growls hoarsely] Enjoy your small victory, Elf Lord…you will not be so fortunate a second time… [Finrod grabs Orodreth and they make their way to the safety of the watchtower, hurrying to catch up with the others who have already descended into the secret passage out of the fortress.]
Sauron: [calling after him] Fortune has favoured you this day… it will not do so again…I foresee you will die a terrible and painful death… on this very land, even. The werewolf will triumph over you in the end.
[Camera moves to Sauron as he calls for his messenger...the large bat that has been sitting silent on the turret flutters down to the battlements. As it lands it seems to grow larger and develop a distinctly feminine body shape, like a Selkie shedding its skin…Thuringwëthil appears with long, curling tawny tresses through which her mouse-like bat ears protrude slightly. She is dressed in a seal skin tunic that follows her every curve, her wings falling like crushed velvet from her shoulders and wrists. He beckons her towards him…]
Sauron: Your timely arrival has pleased me greatly… The wolf means little to me, but he is good breeding stock....I would have had him spared for that at least. [Thuringwëthil approaches Sauron sinuously with undisguised adoration and lust in her eyes...she drapes her arms around him, her bat wings enveloping him as she rests her head on his shoulder. She slowly runs her hand down the length of his torso...Sauron pull her arms from him with arrogant roughness and she falls into an obeisance at his feet, pledging her will to his.... Sauron surveys the scene around him, flushed with the pleasure of success… he absently strokes her hair then looks down at her humbled form…. Thuringwëthil looks up and their eyes meet for a second, Sauron’s seemingly full of promise of reward later…]
Sauron: [imperiously] Inform Morgoth, Dark Lord of Middle-Earth, that our mission has been successful…Tol Sirion has fallen! [softly, for her ears only] Return to me swiftly... [Thuringwëthil rises eagerly, and runs nimbly to the edge of the battlements. Without pausing she throws herself into the air and transforms mid-flight into her full bat form, speeding away into the distance. Sauron walks over to the edge, following her flight for a few seconds then he glances down over the sides of the battlements and the camera follows his gaze…we see the dark shape of a rabbit as it scampers across the ice, into the rolling mist that is creeping up the river as the first light of Dawn breaks...]
End of Episode
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Characters for Seasons 3 & 4:
Cut to the front of the massive Tol Sirion gates where the orcs finally succeed in chopping a large hole in the wood. Several werewolves leap through in quick succession attacking Elves on the other side. Several of the beasts are hewn down with arrows and swords but others make it through healthy enough to attack and kill. They are followed by orcs, one of whom makes it to the mechanism and begins to open the gates for the rest of Sauron’s army.
Cut to a shot right in the middle of everything with the camera close-up on the action. We see wolves attacking and biting, Elves with swords fighting orcs with spears and axes and other weapons, and the gargoyle creatures in the midst of it all tearing at Elven flesh with their talons.
As the gates finally begin to open, the flood rushes in and overwhelms the remaining Elves and it is sheer one sided destruction.
*
Cut to shots of elves on the battlements, led by Edrahil, being equally depleted by the Helcaraukar and werewolves…
*
Cut to shots of the Helcaraukar ripping into the stables where some elves are taking refuge with the horses...the terrified animals rear in fright, kicking at the walls as the elves lunge and slash at the ice-demons. Some other elves come to the rescue with flaming brands, driving the Helcaraukar back so the others can free the horses. One of the elves with a brand is attacked from behind and sent sprawling...the torch flies from his hands and lands on some straw inside the stables, setting it a blaze....an orc amid a group fighting nearby sees what is happening and comments about roast horse being on the menu...the other orcs grunt and roar their approval. Camera angle changes to view from behind the orcs standing their ground with their weapons raised as the frantic horses burst out of the stables towards them.
*
Cut back to Finrod and the remaining elves attempting to go to the aid of those defenders left on the battlements. Once up the stairs Finrod sees that the situation is hopeless and calls for the defenders to retreat to the lower levels.
Some of the Elves make their way down zigzagging wooden stairs attached to the wall of the battlements. Edrahil and two other elves attempt to hold off the attacking orcs and Helcaraukar whilst the others escape. Most of the fleeing elves get onto the stairs as the valiant few begin to falter. One is despatched by a vicious blow to the neck. The other is hamstrung…Edrahil hesitates, weighing up the chances of getting the injured elf to safety.
Poldon: Go! Mandos beckons for me…there is no point wasting yourself on my account.
Edrahil: [desperately] Poldon…you have been a steadfast companion to me, and have served Lord Finrod faithfully – I salute your courage, though it grieves me to leave you to this fate…
Poldon: [shakes head, his breathing harsh…] Hurry, whilst I still have the strength to hold a few more of these brutes off!
Edrahil: [Nods grimly. speaks softly] Namarië, my friend…may Mandos judge you kindly for your actions today. [turns and runs down the stairs. We watch as Poldon is eventually overwhelmed by the enemy and receives his deathblow. The Valaraukar trample his body as they grab hold of the staircase and wrench it free from the wall, sending those elves still on the stairs tumbling to the stone courtyard below. Edrahil manages to miraculously find a soft landing in some hay near the stables which hasn't yet caught light. Others are not so lucky...cut.]
*
Cut to shot of a complete tower collapsing, killing lots of both eves and the enemy: The elves have by now discovered how to destroy the Helcaraukar with fire, and the number has been halved. But stray flaming arrows and torches have caused the keep, already overrun, to catch fire...The rooftops of various towers are in flames and timbers are falling to the ground, killing and maiming elves and orcs alike. All the remaining elves, say 25-30, barricade themselves into the hall, sealing off temporarily the other levels of the castle from the invading enemy.
*
Cut to shot of a couple of Ulundar climbing to the top of the bell tower: They rip open the closed shutters and attack the elves up there. We have a gratuitous shot of the elves being tossed out of the open shutters to their deaths...then shots of the Ulundar doing their flying lizard thing on the way down, leaping from ledge to ledge.
*
Cut to shot of several Ulundar climbing up onto the hall roof and gaining access that way, ripping and tearing at the elves inside.
Orodreth: [looks up, clearly frightened] Finrod! The Ulundar…they are breaking in! [Debris falls. Edrahil lifts a small shield to protect himself and Orodreth. Finrod shields his face with one arm.]
Finrod: [to Orodreth] Be easy. The waiting is the worst part.
Orodreth: [nods, still frightened. Grips sword more tightly]
Finrod: [commanding, in Quenya] Let them come! Our foes shall rue their fate! [Elves charge the Ulundar, cheering]
Some Ulundar now inside the Hall swing on a large overhead chandelier and it finally breaks loose, crashing into the Elven defenders. Edrahil is not critically hurt, but gets trapped under it, and Orodreth fights his way down to free him. . An Ulundo approached Edrahil where he lays trapped. Orodreth’s sword catches the Ulundo’s strike.
Orodreth: Well met, foul spawn of Morgoth...Face me and hasten your doom! [they fight. Orodreth opens the creature’s belly, then beheads it with the backstroke.] That is for my father!
Edrahil: [frees himself during the fight. Rises, covered in dust] Your father is reborn this day in his son.
Finrod step out from under some fallen debris. By this time orcs etc have also broken in through the windows. Several advance, clearly pleased as Finrod is covered in dust and bleeding from several scratches and surrounded by several Ulundar who are strutting, and bobbing their heads aggressively...
Orc 1: [chuckles] Elves will make a tender stew! [the Ulundar issue guttural hisses]
Orc 2: Stand easy and it won’t hurt you too much! [an Ulundo reaches for Finrod]
Finrod: [draws a long breath, swings sword: ulundo’s arm flies some distance] Not this day! The darkness take you! [charges Ulundar. all fall. Camera shift to Hall. More of the enemy are flooding through the doors and windows.]
Finrod: Retreat! Save yourselves as best you can! [Elves begin a fighting retreat from Hall.]
*
By this time most of the elves have been killed off, leaving just Finrod, Edrahil, Orodreth, and maybe 6-8 others. They back their way out from the upper level of the Hall onto the battlements, fighting assorted werewolves and orcs. It is a losing battle: as fast as one foul servant is dispatched, others take its place. The elves slash and thrust and charge the enemy with all their strength but they continue to lose ground.
Finrod: [urgently] It is no good...our cause is lost!
Orodreth: No! [parries strike from an orc to his left and brings his knee up into the orc's abdomen, and then landing a killing blow as the orc is doubled over.]
Edrahil: [finishes off a werewolf with a smooth slicing movement of his blade...shakes his head] We must make our escape whilst we can - I do not think the Master of these brutes will be inclined to offer us clemency, should we even still breathe when he takes control... [spins and despatches another orc behind him]
Orodreth: [Looks around , glancing over the edge of the battlements: it is a shear drop of around 100 feet.] But...how?
Finrod: Inside the base of the watchtower... [grunts as he parries and thrusts with more orcs] ..there is a hidden tunnel...go! They fight their way slowly backwards along the battlements towards the great tower...]
One of the werewolves, larger than the rest, obviously the pack leader, has been hanging back, directing the attack from a vantage point. Now he sees that the strongest elves – Finrod and Edrahil are tiring – he also doesn’t want them to escape - and decides to move in for the kill…it is Draugluin, sire of all the werewolves in Beleriand…
Draugluin stands before Finrod, isolating him from his companions; he rears up back on his two hind legs and stands nearly nine feet tall and as wide as any two elves side by side. Each forearm is as long as and elven longsword and the claws which end each paw are a good six inches long. His fur is jet black and shines in the icy moonlight. His eyes burn a bright gold and he lets out a mighty roar throwing his forearms outwards at the cold air. He stares directly at Finrod in an obvious challenge.
Finrod dispatches a smaller orc by a quick sword thrust to his throat. Edrahil and two or three Elves realize what is happening and attempt to come to his aid... several Elves attack the werewolf with swords and torches but he makes quick order of them severing the head of one with a swipe of his claws and snapping off the sword arm of another by simply biting through it.
Finrod: [emphatically] Stay back! This beast has waited until we are tired and worn down to make his intent known. Let us hope I can buy us some time. Use the cover of the battle to take Orodreth and the others and use the escape passage and go through the forests to safety. He is my heir now....and must live to fight another day. ..
[Finrod and Draugluin square off while there is battle around them. neither wants to make the first move leaving them open to attack so them move around each other in opposite circles for a bit…]
Edrahil: [anxiously] We cannot leave you my lord. And Orodreth is filled with battle spirit and will not leave either.
[Draugluin tenses, ready to pounce…suddenly he springs at Finrod…]
Finrod: [panting as he dodges the lunge from the wolf whose claws skitter and slip on the icy surface of the battlements as he misses his target] Who is your King and whom do you obey? This is not open to debate ...Watch for your moment and do as you are ordered.
Edrahil: [pauses a few seconds and then nods curtly. answers reluctantly:] As my lord commands... It will be done…’though we would rather die here today.
Draugluin finally gains purchase on the slick stones and gathers himself again, expanding his muscles and watching the dancing elf with hate in his eyes and saliva dripping from his muzzle; he opens his jaw abnormally wide in a grimace…
Finrod: [shouts to Edrahil] Live to die another day and before that take many of this evil spawn with you!
A tall ice demon saunters up to the group and Edrahil and the others peel off to combine their might against him leaving Finrod to face the werewolf alone.
We then get quick and short shots of the Finrod/Draugluin fight intermixed with Edrahil managing to leave the area and go to the lower levels, along the way having to kill a few stray orcs who are attempting to loot the place. These two different action sequences will be intercut and go back and forth at the most opportune moments.
Finrod and Draugluin square off amid a sea of others fighting. Finrod brandishes his long-sword at the wolf who leaps towards him howling...... Finrod sidesteps him and uses a slashing move to cut the wolf along his hind quarters - not deeply but enough to draw a good amount of blood. Draugluin lands and pivots and sees he has been cut. He realizes the long-sword can possibly kill him.
*
cut to Edrahil and company (no more than a dozen people) making way downwards . Edrahil sounds the retreat on a silver horn.
*
Cut back to Finrod and Draugluin: Draugluin knocks over a pile of barrels which crash towards Finrod, one striking his sword arm and his weapon crashes to the stone floor. As Finrod looks to find it, Draugluin leaps across the distance and lands upon him causing both to roll hard to the stone floor.
The wolf has Finrod pinned to the ground and he kicks his head back and roars yet another time as he pulls his forearm back to strike a death blow at the head of the Elf. As his forearm comes down Finrod has used a free hand to reach into his belt and pull out a knife which he uses to strike the wolf directly in the soft flesh of his paw before the claws can rip into Elven flesh. Draugluin yelps and winces and rolls off Finrod seeking to put some distance between them.
*
Cut to Edrahil and group arriving at escape tunnel : The entrance to the secret tunnel is located inside the base of the tower…there is a small door at ground level inside the stairwell that leads down some steps to an apparent dead end stone wall… the stones of Tol Sirion are infused with the natural Eldar magic, like most Elvenhomes are, and the tunnel entrance is a hidden door like Moria, with invisible magical elven runes... Edrahil opens the door and some of the elves begin the descent..He realizes Orodreth is not with them…
Edrahil: [Elvish expletive!] Damn the boy! where is he? He knows his uncle's orders...
Inglor: He has turned back...a fierce spirit burns brightly in him and he would not be denied his wish to stand alongside his uncle.
Edrahil: This elfling will be the death of me....the rest of you go on! We will catch you up... [turns and runs back up the steps]
*
Cut back to the battle: we see elves with torches trying to keep ice demons at bay, orcs fighting other elves, werewolves and elves fighting --- a real sea of violent chaos and in the midst of it all if Finrod standing upon a higher stone structure ready for another attack from Draugluin .....suddenly he is hit from behind by the large fist of an ice demon which knocks him from his perch to the ground below .......
Draugluin: [angry and proud] NO! The Elf is mine… [he allows Finrod to compose himself and rise as the ice demon turns without emotion and lays into some Elves]
Finrod: You should have pressed your advantage while you had it…
Draugluin : Here is my advantage! [he reaches to the floor and with almost superhuman effort pries a iron grating from the stonework with his jaws...... he raises his head and flings it at Finrod who manages to throw himself hard and fast to the ground but then finds himself nearly crushed by the body of Draugluin who used the grate as a ruse to distract him for the charge and leap. Finrod appears empty handed and momentarily dazed and disoriented. Draugluin again roars loudly, grabs Finrod by the hair and prepares to issue a decapitating death blow with the opposite paw......
*
Cut to Orodreth running up the steps from the watchtower: he lifts his weapon high and charges towards Draugluin with a roar, distracting him momentarily. Finrod seizes the chance to extricate himself , wriggling free from the wolf’s grip ; he picks up a fallen sword from a dead orc, leaps upon the back of the wolf, pulling back his head, and prepares to slash his throat from ear to ear... Edrahil arrives on the scene, grabs Orodreth and propels him backwards towards the tower again.
Suddenly the moon is blotted out by a dark shape overhead…it is a swarm of vampire bats, who suddenly dive-bomb the elves (and a few of the enemy in the process) The elves are besieged by the winged creatures, their screeches drove the blood from their veins and the strength from their knees. Finrod has no choice but to release Draugluin to protect himself from a particularly large and vicious bat. There is a dramatic silence from Sauron’s host.....we wait for their reaction.....they decide to slowly close in and kill Finrod off anyway...
Suddenly a deep and commanding voice rings out: “Stay your weapons” Draugluin immediately retreats to a safe distance, tossing his great head slowly, as if stretching cramped muscles. He looks back at Finrod, and nods in respect, though the humiliation of defeat burns strongly in his yellow eyes. Nobody moves a muscle as Sauron steps on to the battlements and makes his proclamation. The bats pull away from their victims, forming a black cloud that swirls as though caught in a twister, spiralling up to the bell tower to claim their new residence.. all except one larger bat which glides silently over to hang from the eaves of the nearest turret overlooking the scene below. Sauron makes his way through the crowd and they part like the Red Sea before Moses for him.
Sauron: [calmly, to his troops] Let him go…the fortress is ours! [to Finrod:] You have earned your life…I have your stronghold and I have earned that. Go now before I change my mind.
Draugluin: [growls hoarsely] Enjoy your small victory, Elf Lord…you will not be so fortunate a second time… [Finrod grabs Orodreth and they make their way to the safety of the watchtower, hurrying to catch up with the others who have already descended into the secret passage out of the fortress.]
Sauron: [calling after him] Fortune has favoured you this day… it will not do so again…I foresee you will die a terrible and painful death… on this very land, even. The werewolf will triumph over you in the end.
[Camera moves to Sauron as he calls for his messenger...the large bat that has been sitting silent on the turret flutters down to the battlements. As it lands it seems to grow larger and develop a distinctly feminine body shape, like a Selkie shedding its skin…Thuringwëthil appears with long, curling tawny tresses through which her mouse-like bat ears protrude slightly. She is dressed in a seal skin tunic that follows her every curve, her wings falling like crushed velvet from her shoulders and wrists. He beckons her towards him…]
Sauron: Your timely arrival has pleased me greatly… The wolf means little to me, but he is good breeding stock....I would have had him spared for that at least. [Thuringwëthil approaches Sauron sinuously with undisguised adoration and lust in her eyes...she drapes her arms around him, her bat wings enveloping him as she rests her head on his shoulder. She slowly runs her hand down the length of his torso...Sauron pull her arms from him with arrogant roughness and she falls into an obeisance at his feet, pledging her will to his.... Sauron surveys the scene around him, flushed with the pleasure of success… he absently strokes her hair then looks down at her humbled form…. Thuringwëthil looks up and their eyes meet for a second, Sauron’s seemingly full of promise of reward later…]
Sauron: [imperiously] Inform Morgoth, Dark Lord of Middle-Earth, that our mission has been successful…Tol Sirion has fallen! [softly, for her ears only] Return to me swiftly... [Thuringwëthil rises eagerly, and runs nimbly to the edge of the battlements. Without pausing she throws herself into the air and transforms mid-flight into her full bat form, speeding away into the distance. Sauron walks over to the edge, following her flight for a few seconds then he glances down over the sides of the battlements and the camera follows his gaze…we see the dark shape of a rabbit as it scampers across the ice, into the rolling mist that is creeping up the river as the first light of Dawn breaks...]
End of Episode
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Characters for Seasons 3 & 4:
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
~Diana Cortes