How mighty is Lord Elrond? That is a question wrapped in mystery.
He was born in the Year 532 of the First Age, and lived through some of the most terrible wars in the history of Middle-earth. He fought in nearly every great battle of the Second Age thereafter. To the peoples of the North and the Middle Lands he is a living bond between Elves and Men.
He is sage, sovereign, and warrior all in one, an epic hero tempered by long years. He bears potent magics and one of the three Elven-rings, the Ring of Wind (Vilya).
In peace he is courteous and gentle, yet when he faces the powers of Darkness his sovereign will reveals a majesty that commands the field. The handsome, aged Elven-lord, the Ring of Wind sending a pale blue light from his hand. Sword in hand, he rode to cleave the Nazgûl.
And Thranduil, this venerable Elven-king who has known many wars, entered the fray. His wrath was no less than Kaen's, for his son had been grievously wounded in the earlier fighting. He had sent two thousand Elven warriors to aid the city, yet few now remained.
Love for his folk burned within him, and with two Elven longswords he sprang forward to meet two of the Ringwraiths in single combat.
The two Elven-kings joining Kaen's side turned the tide. With a crushing force Kaen and his masterful blade cut through two more Ringwraiths.
Blow after blow he struck, each stroke laden with multiplied might. The Witch-king of Angmar reeled, driven before them. In a single sweeping motion Kaen stamped upon the Witch-king's incorporeal form, sending him sprawling. His sword flashed and the point was thrust at the Witch-king's brow. Standing over him, Kaen spoke with a voice like a cliff thrashing gust.
"You wretched thing, you who have wallowed in falling, I know that I cannot here end you utterly, yet mark this. Whenever henceforth you set eyes upon me, the shadow of death shall be upon your heart."
With that he struck. One stroke severed the Witch-king's left arm. The phantom limb dissolved in smoke. Soul-pain writhed across the Witch-king like a wound.
Kaen's blade rose and fell again. This time the right arm was sundered. Blow by blow, with a merciless hand, he hacked away at the Witch-king's limbs. Standing upon his prostrate head, Kaen spat out: "Next we meet, I shall do the same and rend you limb from limb."
The Witch-king's spirit, shredded and wounded, flickered like a candle in the wind. In a voice weak and thin he groped for words: "Kaen Eowenríel, I…."
Before he could finish, Kaen's foot descended and crushed him. The spirit scattered as a black mist and was no more.
EXP +80
Yet Kaen's fury did not abate. He turned to Elrond's side and, with overwhelming force, joined with his master in cutting down two more Ringwraiths.
EXP +100
Level: 5 (224/600).
Of the six Ringwraiths who came this day, most now lay slain. The battle raged until dusk. By its close every Orc and Troll upon the field had been slain. The pall that had cloaked Tusgar was rent asunder. The sunset gilded the scarred earth.
Kaen rode into the city. He passed through streets ankle-deep in the fallen. Men, Elves, Orcs, Trolls—each lay in death. Before the ruined walls of the West Quarter, charred houses and blackened timbers still smoked. Rage and grief filled Kaen's breast.
Though he had prevailed against Sauron's machinations in this clash, and had wrested control of the High Pass so that the northern and southern realms of Eowenríel might be reunited, and though the resurgent power of Angmar would for a long time be powerless to march south, these facts did little to soothe his fury.
For the cost was grievous. Of the five thousand defenders of Tusgar, fewer than three hundred remained. Of the two thousand Silvan reinforcements, scarcely two hundred lived. Scores had fallen at the High Pass.
A great city, half-ruined, was a wound upon the land—since the founding of Eowenría no stronghold of the realm had suffered so dire a loss. To have slain Ringwraiths and laid low the Orc-hordes did not quell the fire in Kaen's heart. He drew breath and then commanded in a voice like tempered steel.
"The pain the Darkness has brought shall be repaid a hundredfold. He who dared lay waste to half my city—I will raze Dol Guldur!"
"Summon orders. Let Mundar, Cathril, and Tauriel lead ten thousand archers, five thousand Caladhîn, and one hundred heavy infantry to Tusgar. Muster levies at once. I will gather forces and march south to Dol Guldur. I shall trample it into the earth!"
"Kaen!" cried Lord Elrond, stepping forward, "the wounds of this war are many. The first duty now is to lead your people to rebuild their homes."
"No, Master," Kaen answered in a low tone. "Against Darkness we may not stand merely upon the defensive. We must learn to strike first."
"Now that Angmar in the North is broken and cannot fight further, its ruin remains Sauron's last bastion in these parts. It lies upon the borders of Tusgar, the Woodland Realm, and Lothlórien. Though I would not wish for more war, if I do not strike Sauron he will come and strike me. This is not the time for repose; it is the time to press the advantage, to root out this stronghold, and to purge the Dark Wood utterly."
Elrond, a man of wisdom, recoiled at memories of past terrible wars. He cherished peace more than any older pleasure. Yet Kaen's words stirred in him a vision of the days when great kings arose and struck hard against the Shadow. He remembered the ancient counsel that had once united the free peoples against Sauron.
In those elder days, when Sauron's host overran the capital of Gondor and drew its king north to seek aid, Gil-galad the High King of the Noldor and Elendil of Arnor had known that only a crushing blow could sunder the Dark. They marshalled a vast host and met Sauron in the final battle. After their deaths no such great, proactive campaigns by the free peoples had been seen; in later times most were forced to answer only in defense. Arnor itself had been overwhelmed and razed by the evil that rose in Angmar.
Now Kaen's counsel made Elrond look upon him and see, in that resolute face, a shadow of those ancient kings.
Thranduil stepped forward and spoke in a grave voice:
"I agree with Kaen's counsel. The evil of Dol Guldur has crept from the southern reaches of Mirkwood into my realm. It saps the forest silently, corrupting its life. This war must be undertaken. We shall cleanse Dol Guldur, purge the Dark Wood, and make Sauron pay dearly."