Ilúvatar could not hear a thing as he lurched forward. An axe was in either hand. The first met the flat of a blade and was swept aside. The second came in, a surprise from the left, and it tore through the side of a fellow's helmet. His eyes closed. Ilúvatar could see it through the grate of the elf's helmet. Hinge of steel and hinge of bone were destroyed, and the pain of the impact forced the elf's eyes closed. He was flung out of the way by the force of the blow. Ilúvatar - and a good many of the other Sylvan - wore no armor. Their paint would turn aside some knives, at close range, and perhaps even a sword if they were lucky. Yet it was the way of the Sylvan to fight unencumbered.
Seeing some of the behemoths roaring toward that game, Ilúvatar had time to reconsider fighting this battle from horseback with armor surrounding him.
They fell into an easy rhythm, at first. The attacks had scrambled their pikes to the front, to keep the ground they won. The Sylvan were faster than these pikemen with their heavy helms and their brooding colors, yet their weapons could not match the reach of the bladed lances. Ilúvatar was hard pressed to avoid giving ground in the face of their persistent and angry assault. Each one wearing different colors. Colors sworn to Ramga. Still, Ilúvatar could hear nothing. Still he could see nothing. One thrust of a pike turned away. A second. And then he saw it, as though someone had prayed and their prayer had been answered. A single blood-soaked figure propelled itself into the ranks of the pikes, flashing steel and teeth as it bellowed.
Where the shape passed, men froze, in terror. It was the Champion of the Lion - striking true into the heart of the enemy, sword an extension of himself. If the Sylvvan Elves had somehow managed to halt their charge, it was Leironuoth who broke it. His blade hacked wooden polearms in two. His roar confused. Terrified. Forced back. Those who found enough courage to simply stand their ground saw their reward in the reflection of his steel. The goddess herself must have haunted this battlefield. And yet, Leironuoth could not do it alone, no matter how bold and how skilled.
"Forward!" Ilúvatar screamed. "Push them back through the wall!"
He set actions to words them, using the axes as he'd been taught - as extensions of his arms, that could catch and twist and block just as his arms could. There would be more gods-damned pikes in half a minute, and it was an open question as to whose pikes they would be.
Ilúvatar wanted to have something to show for himself before they arrived.