Huan has also drawn away from the fight to circle around the edge of the most active effects, clearly trying to flank Sauron, as Finrod's guards fan out, some falling back and stringing their bows as they all raise their voices in a lower song, supporting Finrod.

"Fine."

Luthien unlimbers her bow and prepares to join the fight.

Beren does too.

Sauron seems to be winning anyways; Huan's giving him more trouble than any of the others, and several werewolves and a weaker Maia emerge from the tower in Sauron's wake, occupying the dog, a few circling to harass Finrod's guards.

Luthien starts singing along to the thrum of her bowstring, a song of victory and resolve.

Breaking and fear, inevitability - he sings of Finrod's death beneath his tower, long foreseen, of Huan's prophesized fall at the teeth of a wolf. He sings of war, of the great roll of history. He sings that this mighty river might be turned aside, but it will not be Finrod to do it - he is trapped upon the rapids, not at the banks. 

The first of Finrod's guards dies. 

Fate is breaking, fate is ending. The tide is turning, the sun is rising.

Fate was sung by a mightier voice than any of theirs. A single little tune will not break it, not in time for this life here, and it is not the servants of the Valar who strive against those chains. It is not obedient, good Finrod's nature to defy the death Eru has created for him, and it is not Sauron's whim to interfere on his behalf. 

(Still, his tone is more solemn.)

(Another guard dies.)

(Beren flinches a little. Her aim doesn't waver.)

(Another guard dies.)

She weaves her cry of frustration into her song, a plea to be better than their nature, to rise above circumstances.

A song of a dark, harsh movement, decried for interfering with the perfect harmony, for trying to challenge what was fordained. Every voice that objected to what they were made to be rose in that disharmony, and it was not enough. Finrod's sort reap what they sow, the fate they worship coming for them like a wolf looking over the offerings of rabbits.

(A fourth guard dies.)

And so the opponents of fate become its agents, and their failures rise up to bite at their heels.

He scowls, thunderous, and enraged fire bursts across the field. It's not very strong, song-wise, but it sends Finrod rearing back, hurrying to protect himself, and the guards are all badly burned or outright killed. 

(Beren falters.)

(Werewolves finish off the downed guards.)

Serendipitous Kill tears apart the raiment of the Maia they're fighting and lunges for Sauron, snarling. 

Finrod steadies himself and presses the attack. 

An arrow for Sauron's heart, a murmured malediction on its tip.

He spins, mostly avoiding it.

...Crap.

She should've remembered that Huan and Luthien, no matter who she's shuffled into their roles, always kick Sauron's ass. It'll be inconvenient if he dies here. It'll be disastrous if Finrod survives here; it'll cost her far too much flexibility, throw her carefully built tension into open collapse.

That she doesn't have the powers of a Vala anymore isn't strictly true.

Beren begins to hum under her breath, a low song, a deathly song - not the most powerful she could sing, for that would be a double edged blade, and she needs to stay strong and unbroken, even if there's another hundred loops.

She sings of erasing. It's the one truth that defends her and harms her enemies. Nothing they do will survive. There is no victory here, only the slow build of tension by hands not his own. Finrod will die, true, but it will be a more total death than he imagines here. There are no Halls of Mandos, no resurrection as yourself, after the end of the world, and even the memory of him will burn as all things do.

His Enemy, the ultimate Enemy he curses, can suffer, but she cannot fail unless she gives up, and surrender is the one thing not in her nature.

A pitiful thing like him cannot even draw her blood. He does not see her in the shadows.

It is a song none of them can hear, in a language that has not yet been spoken within the bounds of the world, one from the end of days, and to speak it is to invoke those times.

Her arrows fly to Sauron still. They are messages.

And Sauron smirks.

One of Beren's arrows curves in a way no arrow should, redirected for Finrod - piercing through his shields, his songs, his armor, driving straight into his heart.

And Finrod dies.

Luthien cries out in shock.

Serendipitous Kill backs off, growling, unsure.

"I think the script has me fleeing soon," he says, "Though I admit the players in this act are a bit different than Eru planned."

...Okay, she's remembering why she doesn't usually stick Ares in roles that overlap with when she's permitted to be active in Arda. He's dead useful, talented, insightful - he was the Melkor before her, and she forgave him for that eventually, but during her tenure he's guessed more than once the true shape of her chains, in a way almost no one ever does. And as horrid as he'd been to her zeroth life, he'd shown some consideration, and he'd prepared her well to succeed him.

He's also incredibly obnoxious.

She does not roll her eyes but the set of her eyebrows communicates that she wants to.