Rivers of Elven blood were flowing in the gorge below as the warriors of Eowenría heard the commands of their High King
Kaen's roar rolled over the field like thunder.
The army did not stop to rest.
They slammed forward as one, straight into the flank of the pirate horde.
Two thousand King's Guard tightened into a massive wedge. Horse and rider both were clad in heavy armor; as they began to gallop, the earth itself seemed to shake beneath their charge, a rumbling like a mountain-side giving way, all that unstoppable weight focused into a single, spear-like point.
The Elven Shadow wardens took on the role of mounted archers.
Their arrows darkened the sky, falling like midnight rain into the pirates' rear. Hundreds of raiders died without ever knowing from which direction death had come.
As he rode, Kaen lifted one hand.
A flood of golden radiance burst out from his palm and swept over the Elves fighting at the gorge's mouth.
Elured smashed the hilt of his sword into the face of a charging pirate, sending the man crumpling. In that same heartbeat, the light washed over him.
The exhaustion that had soaked into his bones like ice—
The pain of a dozen wounds, of torn muscles and cracked ribs—
All of it began to ebb.
His strength surged back, hot and fierce.
Elured's head snapped up.
Against the blaze of light, he saw a banner cutting across the battlefield like a streak of lightning….
The banner he had etched into his memory forever.
The standard of Eowenría.
"It's the army of Eowenría!"
An Elf warrior cried out in wild relief.
Elured turned fully, and his vision blurred with sudden tears.
He saw a silver-grey figure astride a blazing warhorse, carving a path through the pirates like a storm given flesh.
Every swing of Kaen's sword traced an arc of golden light.
Any scimitar that met it snapped like rotten wood.
Those pirates whose bodies had been strengthened by dark sorceries simply disintegrated under that radiance, their flesh dissolving like hoarfrost under the touch of the sun.
For the first time in days, hope flooded Elured's chest so fiercely it hurt.
"Warriors of the Teleri!" he roared, voice cracking. "With me….charge!"
Blue brilliance flared along his battered blade.
He rallied the remnants of his host, and together they hurtled out of the gorge in a last, furious countercharge.
Caught between their onslaught and the hammer of the King's Guard, the pirates' courage finally broke.
They had never feared Elven arrows.
They had been happy to trade flesh for flesh in brutal close combat.
But the holy power surging from Kaen was something else entirely.
That light tore straight through the darkness in their souls, dragging out something far older and deeper than greed:
Fear.
When the first corsair flung aside his weapon and dropped to his knees, screaming for mercy, the collapse spread like plague through the ranks.
In a heartbeat, the assault turned into a panicked stampede.
Thousands turned and bolted, racing back toward Lond Daer Port in a chaotic flood of trampling feet and dropped weapons.
Kaen did not pursue.
He drove straight through the broken masses, then slowed as he reached the gorge's mouth.
He reined in before Elured, armor still gleaming, eyes suddenly very, very soft.
He swung down from the saddle.
Up close, the sight of the Sindarin prince hit him like a fist to the chest.
How long had it been—
Or had there ever been a time—
When someone had stood before him in such a state?
This mythical hero, this prince of Aman, had been ground down by sleepless days of slaughter, his pride and elegance burned away by war until only a raw, blazing hatred of the dark remained.
"Elured," Kaen said quietly. "I'm here."
"K… Kaen… Your Majesty…"
Elured's voice shook.
At that, the last thread of tension holding him upright finally snapped.
The sword he'd clutched through an entire night of killing slipped from his fingers, clattering onto stone slick with blood.
His legs gave out. He folded to his knees, not in surrender, but in the helpless release that came when the weight crushing him at last lifted.
He managed a smile, faint but real, lips trembling around a single word:
"Thank you…"
Then his body toppled forward.
Kaen lunged to catch him, gathering the blood-soaked Elf into his arms.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "It's over. You're safe, all of you are safe now.
And I'll see to your revenge."
The pirates were in full rout, vanishing back into Lond Daer.
Kaen carefully passed Elured into the arms of a waiting Elven lord.
"Take care of your prince," he said. "The rest of the fighting is our task now."
"Your Majesty!"
The noble's voice still trembled. "What should we do?"
"Protect your people. Protect yourselves."
Kaen's eyes had already turned toward the distant outline of Lond Daer, his gaze frost-cold.
"I'll leave two thousand Shadow-wardens here to watch over you.
"As for the corsairs…"
He paused, voice dropping to a blade's edge.
"They will die. All of them.
But not yet.
Our allies haven't arrived."
He looked toward the sea, where dark sails still ruled the horizon.
"When the fleet of Lindon closes the bay…"
Kaen's fingers tightened on the Sword of Courage and Glory.
"…that will be the day we settle our score."