Me: Mom, can we have LOTR at home?

Mom: We have LOTR at home. 

LOTR at home:

They are in the city. 

They are pouring through the gates. 

They are putting the city to the sword for my resistance. 

They have taken the walls and the square. 

They are battering the gate down now. 

No one is coming for us. 

These were the thoughts of the General of the Armies as he lay dying on a straw mattress in the old citadel of Silsa. His condition mirrored that of his army, once defiant and victorious against all assaults, now mortally wounded and waiting for its life to be snuffed out like a candle-flame. Its strength was gone, its valour no more, withered away by the encompassing darkness of the night. 

Jinki knew not what had happened to the rest of the army that had been left outside of the citadel. But he did not need to think hard to guess. Plumes of flame rose into the sky; screams and cries of agony and for mercy reached the ears of those in the citadel; their foes were cheering and yelling in the thousands as they pillaged and murdered at will. In the morning only blackened ruins and blood-washed streets would remain of the city of Silsa. 

Far behind the battle of the city the Sage discerned that the fire of the General was finally quenched, and put forth more of his strength. Yifan, being the most enthusiastic despoiler among the leaders, was first in the city, and it was he who led the attack on the citadel. At his back the gate of the city was demolished by bombs, and more engines of war moved into the city to reduce the citadel and its defenders. Flaming rockets and bombs rained down on the courtyard of the citadel, sent from mortars or bamboo tubes. Ladders were being lashed together for the scaling of the walls. Many of these ladders were cast down by the defenders, but more came up. Grappling hooks were thrown onto the battlements faster than the defenders could throw them away, and with these even more parts of the wall were pulled down. Having lost all their powder in the storm the defenders could only repel the attackers with arrows and stones, or by breaking off pieces of the crumbling castle wall. Before the foot of the wall the dead lay in piles; every higher rose the hideous mounds, but still the enemy came on. The Prince led the men herself, going up and down the battlements, wielding her great weapon where the fighting was thickest, shouting encouragements and praise to her faithful retinue. But each time their renewed vigour held out shorter; each time the enemy was driven back less and less. Every ladder that was cast down was replaced by two others; every foe slain was followed by two others. 

At the gate there was a great crash; a hundred or so men were holding a giant trunk of some ancient tree, and were battering the rotting door of the castle. In the courtyard before the gate Hyukjae took command of all that was left of the Crown infantry. Shaken by the storm which had driven them back into the city in confusion and desperation, the royal soldiers huddled behind the old warrior and trembled every time there was a crashing thump at the gate; without their General they had reverted to the cowards and weaklings they truly were. They knew their end was near; no longer did they contemplate it with haughtiness and acceptance, but now with fear and foreboding. Before the morning came the gate would be broken, and the hordes outside would rush in and flood the citadel with death. 

The ground before the gate was choked with bodies, for it was where Seungwan focused the fire of the defenders the most. But shields were brought up to protect the ram-bearers, and the corpses were pulled away by those who took their places. The men of the Prince grew weary. Their arrows were spent; their swords were rent; their strength was waning. Junmyeon was pulled into the central tower for he had been pierced through his neck by an arrow, and could no longer fight with it lodged there. Bang Chan and his men were all missing; with them Seungwan may have mounted a stronger defence of the walls, and their absence was keenly felt now. 

Inside the central tower where many citizens of Silsa had taken refuge in, the wounded and dead lay side by side; the living held their breaths, waiting for the gate to fall; for their doom to arrive. Jinki, struck by a bullet and unable to move from the waist down, looked at a loophole, and out at the oppressing darkness beyond it, which was only interrupted by the flickering of distant flames that gave no consolation. Surrounding him were the groans of the dying, the keening of women and children, and sharp cries that rang out in fright every time the ram crashed into the gate, with ever-increasing volume. 

Joohyun was in the central tower too, running up and down and through all the rooms to find the secret passages and hidden doors that were present in every castle for escape in a hopeless battle. She had found one in the prison, and was conducting the civilians through as quickly as she could, but the hole was small and narrow, and led for a very long way out of the city walls. No large amount of people could pass through it at one time, and the children, being frightened of the darkness, made the passage even slower. 

The life was fading from Jinki like it was leaving the Sindeok. The future was like the darkness outside of that loophole: a scene of hell. No longer did thoughts of resistance come to him; indeed, the spell of Minseok had won out, and was upon the General too, working its magic int