Chapter Eight

{Barad-dúr and Belfalas, 3261 SA, then Númenor, 3262-3319 SA}

Ecthelion's return to Mordor was not well received as Sauron's fury for his having failed in the killing of both Glorfindel and Erestor mingled with the rage at having lost a troop of Orcs by some twist of fate to the very Elves he had sought to destroy. By the time that he was finished with Ecthelion's punishment, the Elf Lord wondered dimly if he was finally going to be released from his half life into the Halls of Mandos. But it was not to be so for he healed within a couple days, no sign of his punishment and torture visible on his pale skin. But his eyes had lost even the heat of defiance and so he became cold and withdrawn into himself.

Not wishing to risk Ecthelion's capture by taunting the Elves more with his hunter, Sauron did not send his prize creature out to hunt. Instead, he began working on the Men of Númenor, driving dissent within their ranks as he attacked their outposts on the shores of Middle earth and taking claim of them, declaring himself ruler. The battles and conquering went on for six decades until, finally, Ar-Pharazôn usurped the throne. With this move, Sauron knew that his time had come for the downfall of the beloved Númenor.

With Ecthelion at his side in his panther form, Annatar went out from Mordor and to the shores of Belfalas.  There, they prowled the shores, killing the Men that were dwelling there along with some of the people of Dol Amroth. Never were they caught, for they were merely taunting the Men into panic and fear as well as driving Ar-Pharazôn into a fury of pride, which worked.

In the second year of their hunting, a great ship from Númenor appeared on the sea. Annatar, anticipating this, surrendered in suitable awe of the power of the foolish Edain and so he, along with Ecthelion, was taken to Númenor to 'stand trial'.

Ecthelion did not react to any of the prideful Men's taunts save for a couple of times when he would not stand the abuse any longer. Those times, a couple of sailors lost their lives as their throats were ripped out before their comrades' eyes. Annatar had already begun to cajole a way into Ar-Pharazôn's heart, so Ecthelion had been given leniency for his killings, but even still, he had earned the hatred of more of the Men. Even though many knew that he was most likely a Man turned into a beast, they still hated him for his changes.

Once at Númenor, Ecthelion was placed in a cell within the palace dungeons while Annatar was given a nicer setting for his imprisonment in one of the guest suites at the palace. Yet still Ecthelion found that he could not care in the least and so he stayed in his prison in his beast form, surviving and yet not as his heart and faer died even more out of loneliness.

But one day, about two decades after his imprisonment, Ecthelion received a visitor that he had not expected. Upon hearing the soft footsteps down the stairs after the clanging of the bolt being released on the dungeon door, he looked up, golden eyes filled with curiosity. For he did not smell the stench of leather and male sweat, but the sweet scent of flowers and gentleness. He stood up and stretched, yawning widely before he paced slightly in anticipation of whoever was visiting him. He stopped as soon as the footsteps halted in front of his door and watched as gentle blue eyes peered into the small window that was in the door. He blinked in surprise as he realized that it was a female and not just any female, but Queen Míriel of Númenor!

Tilting his head, he watched her as she observed him, and then yawned again in mock boredom. A soft chuckle left the lady before she whispered, "You are indeed intelligent. Rumor has it that you are a Man made into what you are. But I do not think so, for not even any of the Edain live so long as you have, Master Panther. Will you not reveal who you are?"

Eyes narrowing in consideration, then warmth, Ecthelion slowly walked towards the door where he heard her breath catch in fear. Before her eyes he transformed and stood before her, his grey blue eyes tired with his battles, but he was fitter than he had been for a while since he was well fed, most likely by this lady's request. His lips quirked slightly in a pale shade of his smile as he came over to the door, his slender hands gripping the bars that blocked the small window while he leaned his chin against the edge. His grey blue eyes focused on his visitor as they studied each other. “Are you pleased now?” Ecthelion asked very softly, his voice raw from lack of use.

Her eyes were filled with shock and sorrow as she looked him over before she came closer and wrapped her hands around his slender fingers. “You *are* an Elf! How? What has happened to bring you such a sorrowful fate?” she asked in despair as tears gathered in her luminous pale blue eyes.

His lips twisted again in a faint parody of his smile as he sighed quietly. “Tis of foolishness and pride that I fell, you could say. Quite like how your people are falling, my Lady,” he answered softly as he stared into her eyes.

She nodded sorrowfully as she rested her head on the door, keeping their gazes locked. “I know it, but how can I stop it? My husband has swiftly been falling to your keeper, Annatar. His mind and soul were already twisted before meeting with the Deceiver,” she whispered in dismay.

“Do none of your people follow the old ways, my Lady?” Ecthelion asked in concern as he switched the hold of their hands and held hers in comfort.

Drawing in a deep breath, the Queen looked around first before returning her gaze to his solemnly. “There are a few left that are known as the Faithful. They are living near the shores facing Arda. Elendil and his sons are the leaders and still keep in contact with Ereinion Gil-galad. I believe that they are preparing to leave for fear of what my husband may do,” she whispered confidentially as she leaned in closer. “There are only a few of us after my kinsman had persecuted so many of those of us who remain faithful,” she added with distress.

Sighing quietly, Ecthelion closed his eyes tiredly. “I wish that I could be free so that I might aid your people, but I am not trustworthy. Sauron controls me, especially...” He sighed again and turned away, releasing her hands as he paced away.

“My Lord, you have not stopped fighting, have you?” Míriel asked in concern as she moved closer and watched as he paced within the cell. Her eyes widened as he stopped and looked up at the ceiling, not answering her. “My Lord...what has he done to so break a spirit as noble as yours?” she whispered in despair.

“If only you knew. There are some things that even Elves can not handle. Heartbreak and betrayal will turn an Elf just as much as a Man. Sauron used that to his advantage plus other things,” Ecthelion replied tonelessly as he stared out the small window that was above his bed, allowing in weak light from the outside world. “You know not the sorrow and self hatred I have for all the Men I have killed. I would welcome oblivion, but I know that it will not happen until my fate is finished.”

“Such sorrow I can sense even as you speak, my Lord. Yet I sense also that you have *not* given up. Else why would you be so worried for my kin and people?” the Queen declared firmly, smiling as he turned to her warily. “Aye, my Lord. I hear it and see it in your eyes. You are still a good and loyal servant of light just as I am. And I know that your heart will heal of its wounds soon. You just must not give up,” she added warmly as he came back to her.

Eyes shining with a warmth that had not been present for nigh unto a century, Ecthelion folded his hands gently around hers again. “Hannon le, Hirilen. Your words bring solace to my heart,” (Thank you, my Lady) he whispered sincerely as he leaned his face against the bars close to her face. He closed his eyes as she brushed her hand soothingly along his face, taking away his sorrow if even briefly. He opened his eyes once more and gazed at her. “You must go. Please keep my identity a secret,” he murmured softly.

“Will you tell me your name, my Lord?” she asked quietly as she stepped back slightly.

Watching her sadly, another smile crossed Ecthelion’s lips before he stood. “My name was once Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. But I am now known as Agarwaen ‘uruthos,” (Bloodstained Death horror) he informed her softly before turning away.

“The great Ecthelion who slew Gothmog in the battle of Gondolin...then I shall work even harder to win your freedom and your proper name, my Lord,” Míriel declared firmly before bowing deeply and leaving the Elf alone.

A sad light came to Ecthelion’s face as he looked out the window once more. If only it would be so...

His wait seemed to indeed not be as long as, within another three decades, he found himself freed. He was sitting within his cell when the sounds of talking mingled with footsteps down the stairwell. Standing and prowling through his cell, he growled in warning as he heard a man’s voice mixing with a female’s voice. He sat back, crouching as he watched the shadows that moved outside of his cell door through the tiny window. His ears pricked forward as he heard a soft call. “My Lord? Tis I, Míriel.”

Purring in understanding, he sat and waited for the door to open before his visitors appeared. He straightened in surprise and growled in question as he saw an older man enter in with the Queen. Yet he did not feel threatened as he saw the gentle wisdom within the soft grey eyes. He recognized the touch of Tuor’s line within the Man before him as they came into the room. Míriel approached cautiously and knelt before Ecthelion before reaching a hand up to run through the soft fur that covered the large head. Ecthelion leaned into the touch as he purred louder in approval, earning an unladylike giggle from the Queen and a smile from the man. Míriel smiled as she gazed into his golden eyes. “My Lord...this is Elendil. He will be taking you from here. The time is now...my husband is away on a foolhardy journey to try and find Aman and confront the Valar at the behest of Annatar. You must escape with Elendil and his kin before Númenor is lost due to his arrogance,” she said softly as she brushed her fingers through his fur.

Elendil knelt near them, frowning as he gazed at his Queen and kinswoman. “My Lady, were you not going to accompany us?” he asked softly, echoed with a questioning rumble from Ecthelion as he watched the two humans.

“Nay, I can not. Annatar has gained too much power and I must stall and distract him while you and your family escape. But especially so that our friend here can also escape without notice. Annatar is sidetracked with his bid to try and control the many peons of the court. Our friend should be able to escape,” she answered with a firm smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Ecthelion’s bowed head. “We must go quickly. The guards are loyal to me and will help us. We must away. Elendil, those robes...please bring them,” she whispered in command as she looked up at her friend and kinsman.

“Aye, I will return shortly,” Elendil replied with a bow of his head before leaving the cell to retrieve the clothes he had left in the hall.

Returning her gaze to the panther, the Queen watched as he transformed into his Elven form. She gasped in surprise as he enfolded her into his arms, holding her close in both gratitude and comfort. “Hannon le, Hirilen,” he whispered in a choked voice, all but trembling with the emotions that beset him suddenly. He looked up as he heard a gasp and saw Elendil staring at him in shock. He smiled weakly at the shaken man and nodded. “Aye, I am an Elf, Elendil. My thanks for aiding my escape,” he said in answer to the question within the shocked gaze.

“It is an honor to aid our kin,” Elendil replied as he bowed his head before coming forward with the requested clothing. He and the Queen smiled as a tear rolled down Ecthelion’s cheek while he pulled on the elegant robes. “They fit you well, my Lord,” he murmured as the Elf stood to be sure they fell evenly down his body.

“I thank you both for this kindness. It has been many centuries since I have dressed as an Elf and not as an animal,” Ecthelion whispered huskily as he brushed a shaking hand along the silken robes that clothed him. He gazed at them tearfully as a smile caressed his lips. “I owe you both for this. I pledge to protect you and your kin with everything in me if I can,” he declared as he knelt and took both their hands.

“You are responsible for our own kinsmen surviving the Fall of Gondolin. This should be considered an equaling of debts, my Lord Ecthelion,” Míriel responded before hugging him again as Elendil stared at them in surprise.

“Would that I felt so honored, but for all I have done, I fear that my debt is far worse and shall indeed take much to be redeemed,” Ecthelion retorted softly, but smiled at her as they released the other. “Even still, you have my eternal gratitude.”

“We must not tarry any longer,” Míriel said before standing with them. She led the way out with Ecthelion between them as they went up the stairs and along the halls to a passageway that seemed little used. Moving swiftly down the passageway, they hurried to the outside and proceeded to the far eastern wharf, where two ships awaited their arrival. Elendil went onto the first ship that was awaiting him, greeting his son Anárion with a clasping of arms before they began to prepare to set out.

Ecthelion turned and looked out at the city that had been his prison for the past six decades and felt his heart clench as he saw the blackened buildings, fallen walls, and bodies that lay scattered throughout the falling city. He looked up at the stormy clouds and knew that the judgment of the Valar was at hand. He turned to Míriel once more and took her hands. “You must escape with us, my Lady,” he whispered pleadingly. “You deserve to see peace and live.”

“Nay, my Lord. I must stay here for, as her Queen, I must protect my land and stay with her to the end,” Míriel replied gently as she held her hands close. She hugged him tightly, sighing as he rubbed her back before they parted. “Go, my Lord, and live for freedom yet again,” she urged him as she released his hands and stepped back.

Another tear rolled down Ecthelion’s cheek before he bowed deeply to her and went onto the second ship where Elendil’s eldest son, Isildur, awaited him anxiously. The wind picked up around them, tossing the water into a blackening frenzy as they set sail, using the wind to hurry their escape from the doomed land of Númenor. Ecthelion stayed on the prow the entire time, watching the form of Míriel, Ar-Zimraphel of Númenor disappear into the distance. Later in the day, they saw the rising wall of water that rose up in the distance before it went crashing over the distant terrain of Númenor, swallowing it into the depths of Ossë’s domain under the wrath of the Valar. It was then that Ecthelion felt some breath of freedom as Sauron’s scream echoed in his mind before being silenced.

They came to the shores of Middle earth on the edges of that wave and sailed up the Anduin River to the gap between the Nimrais and Ephel Dúath mountains. There, they began to build Minas Anor near the Nimrais and Minas Ithil in direct opposition to Cirith Ungol. Osgiliath was founded around the same time farther up on the river, binding both shores within its powerful walls as it became a thriving city as well as a guardian hold.

Leaving their care after a few months, Ecthelion went to Mordor to see what he could do to destroy the evil that he had felt pulsing at the center of Sauron’s power. He went into Barad-dúr, searching for the Ring that he had seen on Sauron’s finger time and again, knowing it was the secret to his ‘master’s’ power.

But it was a mistake that he regretted almost immediately as he suddenly felt the strength of Sauron grow around him, sending him to the floor in a writhing frenzy of pain as the howl of Sauron’s spirit filled the realm. He looked up blindly and could only watch as a shadowy figure appeared before him, seething with malice and hatred before blinding pain overtook him again. He collapsed as soon as he was released, gasping in agony as his body shook with tremors of pain that still shot through him.

“Did you think yourself free, Ecthelion?” Sauron’s voice hissed around the room as the Ring that he had created floated up into the shadow, gleaming golden with power and causing the shadow to coalesce into a more solid form. A glowing red shone from where the eyes of Sauron were to be as they focused on the shaking Elf. “Enjoy your brief interlude of freedom, Ecthelion?” he asked lightly in evil amusement as he became even more solid, yet not at all like he had been, for his form that had so entranced those he had controlled was now gone, destroyed by the power of the Valar’s wrath and by his own evil.

Managing to push himself up, Ecthelion glared in hatred at his keeper. “You have lost your form to conquer, Sauron. It will not be long before your reign will end with your destruction. I relish that day’s arrival,” he snarled as he bared his teeth while standing defiantly. He cried out in pain as he was hit with more of Sauron’s rage, but remained standing as he held his middle with his shaking arms.

“Your defiance has returned, Ecthelion of Gondolin. But it will not save you. For if I am defeated, you shall know my true strength and know only suffering,” Sauron replied jeeringly before his laughter echoed around the room, freezing Ecthelion’s heart with the fear that welled up within him. Ecthelion could only hope that he would be killed before he was forced to face that fate.

TBC

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