Nárello rallied his warriors toward the twin banners of Turgon and Fingon with a hoarse cry.  "Roqueni laurëalóti!"

Somewhere in the fray, his brother led part of Nárello's gweth, yet since giving the younger Elf the order, Nárello had not seen Erunámo.  His eyes quickly flashed over the various troops who passed him or took positions at his left or right, seeking his brother by his golden hair.  An occasional glimpse of fair or silver-fair hair among the corpses, yet none wore the green and gold of his House and Nárello could only wonder where Erunámo's gweth had gone.  

The enemy is too many, he thought, and I need you back, toronya.  Hallas and Artamir were at his right hand, Calion on his left with his banner.  The warriors of his gweth massed behind him, shields locked to hold the line, yet still it was not enough.  Gaps appeared in the arquen shieldwall, warriors falling under a barrage of spears, arrows and other missiles; there were not enough arqueni to take the places left by the wounded and slain.

"Roqueni laurëalóti!"  He saw Fingon's banner topple, leaving only the red, gold and white of Turgon's House, and Nárello's rallying cry turned to one of desperation.  We cannot defeat such desolation, we cannot win.

His mount suddenly snorted and reared, and it was all he could do to remain in the saddle.  Something moved out of the corner of his eye.  Turning, instinctively bringing up his sword, Nárello's gaze met the scalding slash of a Balrog's whip.  Fiery tendrils lashed the helm from his head; the smoldering metal-and-leather cap spun out of his view.  An acrid smoke filled his nostrils; a half-second later he realized his hair was ablaze. 

He heard Calion's far-off scream and the last thing he saw before the Balrog's sword opened his throat was his banner, green and gold burning as it fell.

* * *

Notes: (All words in Quenya, unless otherwise noted)

Roqueni laurëalóti: knights of the Golden Flower

roquen: a mounted knight

arquen: a warrior on foot.  Plural: arqueni.

gweth: (Sindarin) regiment, troop of able-bodied men.  Some of the Gondolindrim were Sindarin and that language would have been widely spoken in the Hidden City, perhaps more so than Quenya. 

toronya: my brother