Board Thread:Character Discussion Board/@comment-26863727-20151125023610/@comment-26444332-20151128214718

This is the story fragment of the duel of Faenor Celebrî and Itallië Calendurë. As always, this is an alternate time.

--

For two days the war had been fought on this field. The fourth and final Kinslaying. Avari and Eldar had clashed on the fields of battle for some time now, each side desperate to have the victory. Both had their champions. On the side of the Unwilling was Itallië, counted the mightiest remaining of the dwellers of Endorë, and leader of the Kindi tribe. For the Eldar was the ever-honorable Faenor, a Sinda out of Elder Days and a close kin to the Dark Elves. Neither side had yet pitted these their most skilled warriors... Until now. For the Avari, hardy and valiant though they were, had not the skill in war to match the Eldar of the West, and so they sent forth their Champion to fight with them. For two days now both sides had fought, and wherever Itallië went the Eldar quailed.

And so in desperation they too sent forth Faenor, with little hope that he should defeat her. For though with all his power, and all his wisdom, he still had not the match of her, and his fate was sealed. But she, having left the Blessed Land for the freedom of Endorë, and freely taking it up, received the Curse and the Doom, and her time in the world was not long either.

For they finally met on the field, as hereafter is told, and they fought long and hard even unto the rising of Tilion and the going down of Arien.

--

Beside the falls of Celebel,

By Waters of the East

His voice as falling droplets fell,

Into the starlit pools.

Faenor stepped forwards out of the haze, swords drawn and armor shining. He cut down another Dark Elf, regretting each stroke he made. Ahead of him he saw the reason he had been sent forth: Itallië. He watched her silently as she effortlessly cut down an entire company of Eldar, daggers sparking where they met armor, flesh, and bone.

He saw her notice him, frown in annoyance that one such as him would dare stand against her. She began to walk towards him, even as he began to walk forwards. She sheathed her daggers, even as he sheathed his blades. Even as Faenor did the same he saw Itallië pick up a spear, spinning it around lazily. Both began to walk faster, gradually increasing until they were running. All around them Eldar and Avari alike slowed and stopped their fighting, turning to watch the two fight.

When they met it was like a hurricane, an onslaught of wood and steel. Both wielded the spears as if they were staves, dueling in such a manner as had ne'er been seen in the north or the west of Middle-earth. For the heads of the spears were lost early on, and they spun them as if they were wheels, and their arms were spokes, and for a long time the only sound on that hallowed field was the sharp sound of wood clacking on wood and the breathing of thousands.

Finally the quarterstaves broke, and they tossed the broken pieces aside, and drew edged weapons, and fought with those. For Faenor and Itallië both had weapons out of the Day before Days and the long-forgotten years of the First Age and the fall of Morgoth. For in the ringing of the knives of Itallië was heard the call of the horns of Valinor and the might of Eonwë, but in the keen and clear bell-tones of Ringil and Aeglos were the battle-cries and sorrowful songs of the Sindar and Ñoldor.

At long last Itallië slew Faenor as he well knew she would, but she herself was overcome in the end as well. For the Curse took her, and her Doom was heard in the Halls of Mandos, and her fate was sealed. Her time was appointed her, and she was recalled to Aman and the lands of bliss, and she came never back to Middle-earth, forgetting the woe and sorrow she had known. But Faenor walks alone, for he has no father, and no child for him to care for, and his ending was one of sorrow and grief.