It was the year 457 of the First Age…
During the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears…
The battle was rather horrified.
Word of dark evil after dark evil flooded the eastern frontal ranks of Fingon's western host. As balrogs, trolls, dragons, and more flooded out from Angband, desperation flooded the unit. As the leading scout squadron of this small legion, The Winged Kindred needed to asses things from a higher ground. Here in the midst of the battle, fighting horde after horde of orc armies, it was hard to gain a higher ground.
He did not even remember which commanding officer had called for it, Calaindo just remembered the orders to split the Winged Kindred and try to gain higher vantage points despite all the danger. The ambushed fields were unscouted, and the elven army here was as good as a blind sitting duck. Calaindo turned, panting from sweating so hard, and gazed at the members of his Kindred. He would see this mission through, regardless of the cost. He always had. He raised his spear high, rasping the Winged Kindred already pulled back from the latest barrage of orcs, "Mythrenniel, Aurthiel, you work well together! Scout the western flanks! Maegmirdor, Gwaindor, you scout the eastern ranks! Celeborniel, Alasornaion, take the north! Estenmodel and I will take the south!"
Already, Mythrenniel and Aurthiel were dashing for their location. Maegmirdor and Gwaindor swapped expressions of terror and fear before taking their assigned direction. As Celeborniel turned to go north, however, Alasornaion stopped her and approached Calaindo, "Commander, if I may!"
Calaindo scowled, hissing, "Now is not the time, Alaso-"
"-I think it would be best for Estenmodel and I to switch places!"
Calaindo paused. Alasornaion had the reckless intelligence of a goldfish, but when he did have an idea, he had learned it was worth listening to. As Estenmodel raised his shield and protected Calaindo from a series of orc arrows that flew this way, he reluctantly asked, "Why?"
Alasornaion panted, "Celeborniel wouldn't stand a chance with me, Estenmodel has proven far more aware and thoughtful, and his thoughtfulness and Celeborniel's skill have proven a good match, have they not?"
Calaindo realized that he was right. He had placed one rookie and one experienced member in the eastern and northern duos. Yet, he came to realize that Estendomel and Celeborniel was better suited for each other, since they had worked together before. She nodded, breathing, "You are an idiot, Alasornaion. You are right. Estenmodel, Celeborniel, stick together on the northern side! Alasornaion and I are scouting south!"
As the two parties split up, Estendomel cried out as he pulled Celeborniel away from another arrow barrage, "Good luck! May the Valar protect you!"
As Calaindo and Alasornaion darted, ducking past a troll's entire tree trunk swing, Alasornaion muttered under his breath, "The Valar don't hear us here…"
Calaindo, for once, felt the bitter truth of those words. The Valar had abandoned the Noldor long ago. This was their battle now. As they fought through orcs, trolls, and more, the two came across what looked to be a towering boulder amiss the fray. Calaindo pointed, "Up there!"
Alasornaion pulled his sword from a felled orc and nodded, panting as she dashed in front of Calaindo. Calaindo followed as the two both dispatched a troll together in a one two move. As the troll shook the ground with its fall, red blood splattered onto Calaindo's cheek from an elven soldier's defeat. As they dashed into the crevice of the boulder, Alasornaion paused. Calaindo turned in confusion as Alasornaion looked around, as if looking for something. He whispered aloud, "Rogmul's binds."
Calaindo raised an eyebrow. That was not the first time he had off topic mentioned the evil Rogmul, ancient evil lesser spirits who sided with Morgoth, before. He knew that a Calrog had slain Alasornaion's late brother, but this was just bizarre! Not to mention annoying.
Yet, there was something foul in the air. A deep chill gripped Calaindo's heart as he turned to Alasornaion, raising his shield again and rasping, "Do you feel it too?"
Alasornaion remained silent as he darted off, dashing to the other side of the boulder.
"Hey!" Calaindo chased after him, "An ancient evil is present, can you not see that! I bet you summoned it too! You foolish-"
He froze, eyes widening. Hidden behind the boulder, in plain sight, a Calrog arose from the ground. What on earth were such evil things doing here! So far, there had only been whispers of orcs and trolls in the attacking forces! As the massive spirit arose, fear gripped his heart. This was supposed to be that battle that destroyed Morgoth! This was supposed to be the moment the Free Peoples came together and destroyed their foes, united as one! Yet, it seemed as if Morgoth had emptied Angband of all his minions, and the sky would be painted red in the incoming sunset…
The Calrog's appearance had caught him so off guard, Calaindo gasped when he felt searing heat against his skin. He jumped back, trying to evade the monster - only for something to shove into him from behind and land him right in its arms. Calaindo roared in pain as burning fingers made of cruel stone wrapped around his person. He was lifted from the ground, so crushed and constricted that he was unable to lift his spear or shield. He hated resorting to this, but he cried out, "Alasornaion! Help me!"
He looked down, his skin melting on his person. He was shocked to see that Alasornaion was not fighting orcs, nor was he fighting the Calrog itself. No. He just… stood there, gazing up at him. As his armor melted into his body, Calaindo cried out, "Alasornaion! I am ordering you to help me-aahh!"
As steam swirled around his frame, he heard Alasornaion speak. He was not calling out to his leader in aid, nor was he crying out in terror. No. His voice was cold and calm, chilling and vile. Something was wrong here. Alasornaion spoke, and it was frightening, "Go tell your master that this battle here is lost. There are no scouts able to even figure out where this battalion is, and they are completely surrounded."
Disbelief caused Calaindo to fall mute in shock. What was… who was… Alasornaion? What was he talking to? Why? He was speaking as if…
The Calrog gripped Calaindo even tighter, squeezing the air out of him. Burning up and in agony, Calaindo was no longer able to scream. He just whimpered, numb with the possible thought that Alasornaion had been the one to just report to the Enemy's side. He looked down, wide eyed, to see Alasornaion gazing up to him. His eyes were cold as Helcaraxe's ice, and his sneer was as sinister and dark as Doriath's Quenya banning King.
"You know," Alasornaion spoke, "My brother died fighting a Calrog. He even cried for help, just like you did. But what were your orders then?"
Calaindo was briefly taken back to one of the Winged Kindred's most disastrous missions. He saw a Calrog utterly crush a fellow warrior, blood both evaporating and spraying out across the cavern floor and walls. He saw Alasornaion, screaming and crying for his brother as the same Calrog turned its gaze on another member of the Kindred. Calaindo's orders? "Run! Forget him, or we will all be killed by that abomination!"
Calaindo finally came to, his skin no longer responding in pain to his burning and melting. He screamed, demanding and hostile, "Alasornaion! What have you done! Have you truly sided wi-" The Calrog's grip tightened, causing him to gasp for air. Yet, he was unable to find none.
Still, Alasornaion spoke. The nervous mess who never took initiative, always watched Aurthiel with longing, and frequently made a bumbling fool out of himself. He… He never sounded so in control in his entire life. As Calaindo listened to his cool, almost soothing voice, he remembered what true terror felt like. Helpless, abandoned, frightened terror.
"You were a monster, Calaindo. My brother was not the only reckless sacrifice you ordered, all to either return alive or complete the mission. You left members of our Kindred to be shot down by arrows, overtaken by wargs in the night, and lost to the elements. You ordered single members of the group to scout, knowing they would be killed but wanting to draw the Enemy out. You frequently berated and insulted even long term members of the team for questioning you, or even just because you felt like it. You, Calaindo, had this coming for a long time. Feel what my brother felt. Feel what we all felt under your atrocious reign as on field commander."
Calaindo's mouth parted, unable to breath. His body was ruined beyond repair, metal and leather fused to his bones. He opened his eyes, tears turning into vapor, and managed to part his charred lips.
"All I know," He breathed, "Is that you are a traitor. In joining Morgoth, you have abandoned your kin, your homeland, and your fellow elf. You even abandoned Aurthiel."
That last part seemed to stir something in Alasornaion, who snarled in rage, "Shut up! I'm saving her from this stupid, worthless war! Finish him!"
The last moments of Calaindo's life were unspeakable agony. Squeezed out like a towel, crushed like rubble, and thrown against the boulder like trash.
