The forces of Cardonna swept down the ranks of the Orcs swiftly, cutting a swathe in the black ranks. Black blood spilled all about them as arrows after arrows were released by the elves. They had long mastered the skills to release an arrow even when they rode on horsebacks. Some of the arrows founded their marks, defeating the first layer of the vile Orcs and Goblins alike. However, many of the layers remained still.

The Orcs had their pikes outwards, facing the incoming assault of the Cardonnan. The enemy grew fiercer. Their cries echoed, wanting to plant as many fear at the heart of the elves. They had with them a viciousness that no Cardonnan possessed. The Orcs and Goblins swung their swords about, threw their spears and released their own arrows in return.

None of the elves hesitated. Their hatred for their enemies is cold and bitter, for they remembered their fallen comrades in Gondolin, and how cruel the Orcs had been when they attacked the city, leaving only few to escape. The Cardonnan attacked with vigor, their knives, arrows and swords shone in the gloom with a gleam of chill flame, so deadly was the wrath of the hands that held them.

Changmin was amongst the first warriors who reached the enemy’s line. Swiftly Aerwithen rode, leaping between pikes so that the King could swing his twin blades, decapitating the Orcs clustering about them, cutting a clear path through the vile forms.

However the enemy reacted quickly. They gathered their ranks, goblins and Orcs and Wargs-riders alike, and stood to withstand the attack. Few swords came at Changmin at once. He parried with one, another had come. Before the incoming sword could injure the King, the Orc who held it had been shot with an arrow. Changmin could hear the screams of Orcs and elves, could feel the grief overcame him as he watched his men killed.

He steeled his heart to hold on. With renewed spirit, he charged at his enemies. His men followed his footsteps, their yells were deafening. Soon the black blood of their enemies drenched their shining armors, leaving ugly smears and stained the rocks and grounds below.

It was in the midst of this chaos that Changmin fought –and bore the blunt hit by a troll’s mace. It approached him from his blindside, and he was too engrossed fighting with three Orcs at once that he did not see the troll came. Its’ giant hand lifted a giant mace, ready to crash down on the unsuspecting King. And it did.

Changmin felt his breath left him as the mace hit his body. The force was so great that he was knocked down from Aerwithen. Dark spots appeared in his sight, his head rang with dull noise and his chest was constricted with pain. He could hear Aerwithen neighed, could hear Eric’s voice shouted in worry.

But the mithril armor of the King’s held on.

Although the great mace hit him hard, it did not break his bones. Gathering his strength, Changmin stood, a bow in his hand and he strapped three arrows at once and fired it to the troll’s head. With great painful bellow, the troll swayed before collapsing and fell dead.

“My King!” he heard Eric’s concerned voice.

“I am not injured,” he reassured his guard, “come, we must go to aid our friends.”

Together the two warriors fought, each fighting his own battle and slew great many numbers of enemies. Aerwithen galloped near, and Changmin mounted his horse as he killed another Goblin.

Suddenly their enemies crowed in fear. Changmin gazed up to see a sight to behold. His plan had worked. Lord Yunho had led the First Company and flanked the black crowd of Orcs and Goblins and Wargs. Before they could form their ranks, Lord Jaejoong had attacked with another Company of elves from the left.

The King then let out a brave cry. With a raise of his sword, he gathered his warriors around him, and all elves moved as one. They charged again with renewed numbers. Already many of the vile creatures were flying back down the mine to escape. The elves did not waste this chance. They sent against it a shower of arrows, and each flickered as it fled as if with stinging fire. Behind the arrows a thousand of their swordsmen leapt down and charged.

The enemy was in pure chaos. Many of the Wargs now turned against the Orcs and Goblins, rending the dead and wounded, as arrows from the elves showered on them and pierced their metal armors and thick skin. Victory seemed at hand, when a terrible cry rang out on the heights above.

Changmin gazed up and saw a terrible sight. It was a Fell Beast, a winged creature, greater than other birds with neither quill nor feather. Great claws it had, as if they were horned fingers and it had a long neck, ended with hideous head and canine. Upon the beast sat a shape, black-armored, huge and threatening.

The Dark Lord Maglor.

He wore a crown of steel, his gauntlets were sharp and alongside him he brought despair, ruin and death. He wielded a great black weapon of Old, to be wielded as a mace from long chain with thorns around the head. On his other hand was the Anglachel, the only sword in all Arda who could pierce through the mithril armor of the King.

The Fell Beast flew past them, before it landed and the Dark Lord dismounted. With a single wield of his great weapon, five figures were thrown and injured. Changmin watched with dread as he realized that the Dark Lord neither differed between friends nor foe. All who stood in his way were killed. And his eyes were fixed upon the young king from the Great Kingdom of Cardonna.

Changmin answered the call. He too, dismounted from Aerwithen. In his hand he gripped his sword tighter, an heirloom from his forefathers. A tendril of fear grew in his heart, but he steeled it with as many courage as he could muster. His warriors were fighting their battle, and this was his own.

Before he could reach the Dark Lord, the great mace had been swung at him. The long chain rattled with terrible noise and Changmin stepped sideways just in time to escape the great weapon. He wasted no time and hurried, a sword was in his hand, and he raised his shield to block the second attack from the great weapon. His shield splintered, broken under such force and Changmin felt his arm was numb with pain. He let go of the broken shield, for it had no more use to him.

Then a blinding pain came from his left shoulder. The Dark Lord’s sword, the Anglachel, had pierced him through his mithril armor. He fell to his knees, for the pain was too much. He screamed as his blood began to trickle. He could hear the sound of battle continued around him, but his eyes only saw Lord Maglor, tall and threatening, towering above him. The Dark Lord bent over him like a somber cloud, and his eyes glinted with madness as he raised his sword to kill.

Changmin knew his death was coming. Yet in his heart he still had a glimmer of hope. In his fingers he still had his sword. With his last strength, the young king drove his sword, passing the steel armor that the Dark Lord wore and pierced to his knee.

There was a terrible cry of bitter pain as Lord Maglor was wounded and collapsed. Suddenly his Fell Beast landed beside him, and with hurried movement the Dark Lord mounted his beast. It beat its hideous wings, and the wind of them was foul. It leaped into the air, then swiftly rose and flew away, bringing the Dark Lord with it.

 

The Anor was high, but she did not shine as bright as she would, and by now Junsu would have heard the sounds of birds and the wind blew. But the stillness of the heavy air was foreboding. The darkest clouds surrounded the White City, and a storm was brewing.

Never in his life had Junsu seen such army. Twenty thousand Orcs, marched on foot crossing the Field of Methedras. The bare Field was silent no more. It was boiling and crawling with black shapes. Some squat and broad, some tall and grim, with high helms and sable shields. They had with them great steel ladders, which they will used to climb the walls; and siege weapons to break down the gate. Junsu felt his heart sank at the sight.

The Orcs did not stay quiet. Already they had begun screaming, groaning, yelling in their dark speech. They were all clad in steel armor, and as they approached the White City, they begun thumping their spears to the ground, making more terrible noises as they came closer.

But the elves of Cardonna were not easily frightened. Few they maybe, but they knew they had skills with bows, more than any other creatures on Arda. “Fear not,” Junsu spoke, his voice loud and clear as if he was not afraid, betraying what really lies in his heart, “stand strong, my brothers, the White City will not fall! The Great Kingdom of Cardonna shall remain! She may be breached, her gates might be broken down, but she will never be conquered. She will stand, proud and strong as we will be!”

At that moment all elves saw their King’s Consort in different light. Junsu, the second prince from the Kingdom of Sevaecia, was no longer a stranger. He was now one of them, elves from Cardonna and he shall die as one. If he was willing to risk his life for their Great Kingdom, then they, as countrymen, shall do the same. The King’s Consort speech brought courage to their heart, and the way he spoke was so brave, so sure, that they had begun to believe what he said.

The White City would not fall. The Great Kingdom of Cardonna shall remain.

“Show them no mercy,” Junsu added, “for they will give you none.”

“Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar,” said Andy, his voice rang amidst the jeering of the Orcs. “I have promised our King that I would keep you safe, and that is an oath I shall fulfill.”

Junsu gave his guard a small smile. He gently clasped the other’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly as he replied, “It is not me that you should keep safe, meldir, it is our people. We shall defend the White City for as long as the Valar allows us to.”

Andy bowed, knowing the King’s Consort was right. A tinge of pride bloomed in his heart. He had always known that his Lord cared of their city and their people more than he cared for himself, but the other warriors needed to know as well. It would give them more courage, and it did. A different glint was in their eyes. Respect. Loyalty. The men had found their captain, and they would follow him to the death and beyond.

Suddenly there was a loud cry from down bellow. The fierce battle-cries of the Orcs broke out. The elves readied their bows and arrows, knowing the enemy would attack soon. With arrows quirked to their bows, they waited for the King’s Consort’s command.

Just as the Orcs began to rush towards the Great Gate, Junsu yelled, “Release the arrows!”

Arrows thick as the rain came whistling over the battlements, and they hit their marks. The assault on the White City had begun. The first line of Orcs had fallen, but it was soon replaced with many more as the enemy rushed further. The steel ladders then followed, their steps filled with Orcs. Hooks after hooks were clasped on the stone walls. Soon the Orcs began to climb, and the elves released their arrows as fast as they could.

But the Orcs were faster still, for their sheer numbers alone was a great advantage. Few Orcs had climbed over the walls and Junsu wasted no time in killing them. He wielded his sword, cutting into the throat of the enemies and around him the fight broke out. The guards on the second level of the City could now shoot their own arrows towards the enemies on the first level, yielding a powerful storm of arrows and killed many number of Orcs.

The enemy surged forward, some against the wall, others towards the causeway and the ramps that led up to the Great Gate. There the hugest Orcs were mustered, along with their cave trolls and they carried with them a great siege weapon, a battering ram. It breathed fire in its mouth, and shaped like a warg, and upon closer look, Junsu’s heart sank.

The ram was made from mithril.

The Great Gate would not hold for long.


-End of Chapter Twenty One-


Glossary:
Anor= sun
Meldir= my friend
Valar = gods
Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar = I will follow you to the death and beyond