Five Days Later - The March to Mordor
Escanor rode at the head of the army, his body still aching but functional. Five days of forced rest had restored enough of his power to fight, though he could feel the cracks in his essence, the damage from pushing too far too many times.
Beside him rode Aragorn, now openly claiming his heritage as the heir of Isildur. Gandalf walked nearby, his staff gleaming white. And behind them, seven thousand men marched toward certain death.
They knew the odds. Everyone knew the odds. This wasn't a march to victory. It was a march to buy time. To distract Sauron long enough for Frodo to reach Mount Doom and destroy the Ring.
It was a suicide mission.
And yet, not one man had refused to march.
"You're quiet," Aragorn observed, glancing at Escanor.
"Thinking," Escanor replied. "About what's coming. About what I saw in Galadriel's mirror."
"Your death," Aragorn said softly. "Against Morgoth himself."
"You know?"
"Gandalf told me. He thought I should understand why you're so... resolute." Aragorn paused. "Escanor, what you're about to do... sacrificing yourself..."
"Is necessary," Escanor interrupted. "And temporary. I will return. Eru has decreed it."
"But you'll die first," Aragorn pressed. "Truly die. And your children... your wives... they'll have to live with that. Even if it's temporary."
"I know," Escanor's voice was heavy. "Believe me, I know. But the alternative is worse. If Sauron succeeds in summoning Morgoth, if the First Dark Lord walks Middle-earth again... everything ends. Everyone I love dies. At least this way, I can save them."
"At the cost of yourself."
"A cost I'm willing to pay," Escanor said firmly. "I've lived twenty years more than I expected when I first woke in the Shire. Twenty years of love, of family, of purpose. If this is where my story ends... it's been a good story."
"It doesn't have to end," Aragorn said. "You could stay back. Let others fight this battle."
"No," Escanor shook his head. "This is my purpose. It always has been. From the moment I arrived in this world, I was meant for this. To stand against the darkness. To be the light when all other lights fail."
They rode in silence for a while, the army marching steadily behind them.
"Escanor," Aragorn spoke again. "About what you said. About Arwen. After this is over, if we survive... should I really...?"
"Talk to her," Escanor said. "Be honest. Tell her how you feel. And let her decide. But Aragorn... understand this. If she chooses to add you to our family, you'll be entering something unusual. Something that requires constant communication, constant honesty, constant respect for everyone involved."
"I understand," Aragorn said. "And I... I think I'd be willing to try. If she'll have me."
"She will," Escanor smiled. "I can see it in how she speaks of you. How her eyes light up when your name is mentioned. She loves you, Aragorn. She just doesn't know it yet because she thinks her heart belongs only to me."
"Does it not?"
"Hearts are bigger than we think," Escanor said, echoing Tauriel's words from years ago. "They can hold multiple truths without diminishing any of them."
Day Seven - The Black Gate
The Black Gate of Mordor loomed before them, a massive construction of iron and malice. And beyond it, gathered on the plains of slag and ash, was the army of Mordor.
A hundred thousand orcs. Trolls the size of houses. War beasts that defied description. And somewhere, watching from Barad-dûr, Sauron himself.
The army of men looked pitifully small in comparison.
"Well," Gimli said, adjusting his grip on his axe. "This is going to be interesting."
"Interesting is one word for it," Legolas replied, his keen elven eyes scanning the enemy forces. "Suicidal is another."
"We're not here to win," Gandalf reminded them. "We're here to draw Sauron's eye. To make him think we have the Ring, that we're bringing it to challenge him directly."
"And when he realizes we don't have it?" Pippin asked nervously.
"Then we die," Merry said matter-of-factly. "But hopefully not before Frodo succeeds."
Aragorn stepped forward, addressing the army.
"Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day!"
The men cheered, their spirits lifting.
"An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"
The roar that followed shook the very gates of Mordor.
And then, the gates opened.
What poured forth was nightmare made manifest. Orcs in numbers beyond counting. Trolls wielding clubs the size of trees. And at the front, riding on a fell beast, was the Mouth of Sauron, wearing the armor that had once belonged to the Tower of the Teeth.
"So," the Mouth of Sauron called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've come at last. The fools who would challenge the Dark Lord in his own domain. How... amusing."
"We come to challenge Sauron," Aragorn declared. "Let him face us himself if he dares!"
"The Dark Lord does not need to dirty his hands with the likes of you," the Mouth laughed. "But he has sent me a gift. A token of his... gratitude for your foolishness."
He held up something that made several of the men gasp in horror.
Frodo's mithril shirt.
"No," Sam whispered, his face going pale.
"Yes," the Mouth grinned. "Your little spy has been captured. Even now, he suffers in the dungeons of Barad-dûr. And when we are done with you, we shall make him watch as we feast upon your corpses."
"He lies," Gandalf said quickly, though even he looked shaken. "Sauron would not let Frodo live if he truly had him. This is a trick."
"Is it?" the Mouth's grin widened. "Well, I suppose you'll never know. Because you're all going to die here."
He raised his hand, and the army of Mordor surged forward.
"FOR GONDOR!" Aragorn roared, drawing his sword.
"FOR THE SHIRE!" Merry and Pippin shouted.
"FOR MIDDLE-EARTH!" the army cried as one.
And the two forces collided.
The battle was chaos incarnate. Escanor found himself in the thick of it immediately, Rhitta singing as it cut through orc after orc. His children fought nearby, Eldarion holding a section of the line with his solar-infused blade, the twins raining arrows from elevated positions.
But for every orc they killed, ten more appeared. The army of Mordor was endless, relentless, overwhelming.
"We can't hold!" Gimli roared, his axe dripping with black blood.
"We don't need to hold!" Gandalf shouted back. "We just need to survive! Give Frodo time!"
But even as he spoke, Escanor felt it. A presence. Vast. Terrible. Ancient beyond measure.
Sauron himself was focusing on them now. His eye, his will, his full attention bearing down on this tiny army that dared defy him.
And then, something worse.
From Barad-dûr, a portal of darkness opened. Not a gate, not a door, but a tear in reality itself. And through it stepped something that should not exist in this age.
The air itself seemed to freeze. Light dimmed. The very earth trembled.
And Morgoth, the First Dark Lord, the master of Sauron, the corruptor of the Valar themselves, walked into Middle-earth.
He was... impossible to describe. Taller than any building, shrouded in darkness that was not shadow but the absence of all light. His armor was forged from the screams of the damned, his crown made from the broken hopes of entire civilizations. And his eyes... his eyes burned with hatred so pure, so absolute, that to meet them was to know despair.
"No," Gandalf whispered, his face going white. "No, it can't be. The Void... the chains..."
"Sauron broke them," Escanor said, his voice steady despite the terror he felt. "In his desperation, he reached into the Void and pulled his master free."
Morgoth's voice, when he spoke, was like the death of stars.
"SO. THE SECOND CHILDREN STILL CLING TO THEIR FUTILE RESISTANCE. HOW... TIRESOME."
His gaze swept across the battlefield, and where it fell, men died. Not from violence. Simply from the sheer malevolence of his attention.
"I HAVE RETURNED. AND NOW, ALL THAT ERU MADE SHALL BE UNMADE. ALL LIGHT SHALL BE EXTINGUISHED. ALL HOPE SHALL DIE."
"NO!"
The shout came from Escanor, his voice amplified by his power until it rivaled even Morgoth's in volume.
"You will NOT have this world! You will NOT destroy what so many have fought to protect! I am Escanor, the Lion of the Sun, the Sin of Pride! And I WILL stop you!"
Morgoth turned his full attention to Escanor, and the weight of it nearly drove him to his knees.
"YOU. I SENSE POWER IN YOU THAT DOES NOT BELONG TO THIS WORLD. INTERESTING. YOU WOULD MAKE A FINE SERVANT, LITTLE SUN. KNEEL, AND I MAY LET YOU LIVE."
"I kneel to no one," Escanor said, his power beginning to flare. "Especially not to fallen Valar who broke faith with their creator."
"THEN YOU WILL DIE."
Morgoth raised his hand, and darkness itself became solid, forming a blade longer than any tower. He swung it down toward Escanor, toward the army, toward everything.
And Escanor met it with Rhitta.
The clash sent shockwaves that flattened everything within a hundred yards. Orcs, men, even trolls were thrown back by the sheer force of the impact.
But Escanor held. His power blazing, his will unbreakable, he held against the might of Morgoth himself.
"IMPRESSIVE. BUT FUTILE."
Morgoth pressed down, and Escanor felt his knees begin to buckle.
"Gandalf!" he roared. "Get everyone back! Get my children away from here! NOW!"
"Escanor, no!" Eldarion started forward.
"I said NOW!" Escanor's command was absolute. "This is my fight! My sacrifice! Don't make it meaningless by dying alongside me!"
Gandalf grabbed Eldarion, his grip surprisingly strong.
"Come. Your father does what must be done. Honor his sacrifice by surviving."
"No! Papa, no!" Aurëlindë was crying, struggling against Legolas who held her back.
"I love you!" Escanor called to his children, to all of them. "All of you! Tell your mothers I love them! Tell them I'll return! I PROMISE I'll return!"
And then he reached deep. Deeper than he ever had before. Past his limits. Past his breaking point. Past everything that made him who and what he was.
He reached for the very core of Sunshine itself.
And pulled.
The light that exploded from Escanor was beyond description. It was as if the sun itself had fallen to earth, concentrated into a single point. The entire battlefield was illuminated as bright as noon, brighter even, until it was painful to look at anything.
Morgoth roared, actually staggered by the sheer power.
"WHAT... WHAT ARE YOU?"
"I am hope," Escanor said, his voice calm despite the agony he felt as his very essence burned away. "I am the light in the darkness. I am the promise that evil will never triumph. I am everything you sought to destroy. And I. Will. END YOU."
He charged, Rhitta blazing, his entire body becoming a star given form.
Morgoth met him, and their battle shook the foundations of Middle-earth itself.
They fought across the plains. Through the armies of both sides who scattered before them. Their clash was so intense, so powerful, that reality itself began to crack at the edges.
Escanor knew he was dying. With every blow, with every use of his power, he could feel himself burning away. His essence, his soul, his very being was being consumed by the power he was channeling.
But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Because if he did, Morgoth would be free. Would destroy everything.
"YIELD!" Morgoth roared. "YOU CANNOT WIN! EVEN NOW, YOU FADE! YOUR LIGHT DIMS!"
"My light," Escanor gasped, blood running from his mouth, his eyes, his very pores, "will NEVER dim. Not while those I love still live. Not while hope remains."
He saw it then. Through the chaos. The tiniest flicker. At the peak of Mount Doom.
Frodo had reached the fire. The Ring was about to be destroyed.
"It's done," Escanor smiled, blood on his teeth. "Your master Sauron... is finished. The Ring is destroyed. And without him to anchor you here... you're going back to the Void."
"NO!" Morgoth howled in rage.
And Escanor struck. One final time. With everything he had left. Every last spark of power. Every fragment of his soul.
Rhitta pierced through Morgoth's chest, through his armor of darkness, through his essence itself.
"This is for Middle-earth," Escanor whispered. "For my family. For everyone who dared to hope. Goodbye, First Dark Lord. May you rot in the Void for eternity."
Morgoth screamed. A sound that would echo through legends for ages to come. His form began to dissolve, pulled back toward the Void, back to the chains that Eru himself had forged.
But even as he faded, his last act was one of spite.
His blade came down. One final strike.
And pierced through Escanor's heart.
Escanor fell. His power extinguished. His body broken. His life... ended.
He lay on the scorched earth, Rhitta falling from nerveless fingers, and looked up at the sky. The sun was shining. Beautiful. Eternal.
"Arwen," he whispered. "Tauriel. My children. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep my promise. But I'll try... I'll try to find my way back to you..."
His eyes closed. His breath stopped. His heart ceased beating.
The Lion of the Sun was dead.
And across Middle-earth, those who loved him felt it. Arwen in Rivendel collapsed, sobbing. Tauriel in Mirkwood fell to her knees, screaming his name. His children on the battlefield cried out in anguish.
The armies stood in silence, stunned by what they had witnessed.
Gandalf bowed his head, tears streaming down his weathered face.
"Greater love hath no man than this," he whispered. "That he lay down his life for his friends. Rest now, Escanor. You have earned it."
But even as he spoke, something was happening.
The sky above opened. Not with darkness, but with light. Pure, golden, divine light.
And a voice spoke. A voice that all heard, all felt in their very souls.
The voice of Eru Ilúvatar. The One. The Creator of All.
"WELL DONE, MY CHILD. WELL DONE."
And a hand reached down. A hand of light and love and infinite mercy.
It touched Escanor's body.
And he breathed again.
To be continued...