“Gwador,” Junsu whispered.

He grasped into their bond, feeling how it soared in his vein like a newly lit fire. Hope was rekindled. Junho was here. His twin brother was here, the Valar had not abandoned them. Despite the ruckus and the sound of battle around him, Junsu could still only hear the voice inside his head.

Gwador, where are you? Oh Valar, I hope you are alive.

Junho, he whispered back, Saes, tell me that this is not mere dream. Are you really here in Cardonna?

Junsu could feel relief and gratitude flooded over their bonds. Tears came to his eyes, for it felt as if he was dreaming. They spoke briefly, but with every word they uttered, the bond grew stronger and fiercer until it felt as if they were back at Saevacia. Junho brought with him three thousand spears, every single warrior Saevacia could spare had joined. They heard the news of the Fall of Gondolin, and Junsu’s father, the King of Saevacia decided they should offer their help beyond supplies and provisions.

And now here they were: the alliance of all elves on Arda, and may it not be the last one. Junsu clenched tighter on the bow he held. Hope was once again rekindled. The enemy was still many, but now they had better odds to survive. Every spear would help. No arrows would go to waste.

A great clang was heard and Junsu looked on the barricaded gate. It would not hold for long. They needed to meet the enemy outside or else they would perish here.

“My Lord?” he heard Andy spoke, “the gate would not hold. You must escape whilst we still have time.”

Junsu shook his head. “Nay it is not needed. The army from Sevaecia has arrived. I hear my brother in our bond; they are fighting our enemy as we speak.” A murmur rose among the Cardonnan elves, some with disbelief and other with excitement. They had long heard of the bond between elven twins, but it was so rare that it almost become a legend rather than common knowledge. Still, they were relieved. There was a hope now in their eyes.

“How many spears? Eight thousand? Ten thousand?”

Again, the King’s Consort shook his head. “Three thousand.”

“Only three thousand? Then we are doomed!” cried a young sentry, “We only have one hundred left here. Our enemy numbers twenty thousand. How can we withstand such force only with three thousand men?”

An agreement went around the elves. The rekindled hope had now dimmed, for they were once again be reminded that their enemy was far too great in numbers. They too have with them such reckless hate, such fierce siege weapon. The strength of the Kingdom of Kuveth was beyond their means.

Junsu bit down the disappointment in his heart. His men had once again lost hope, for they had been fighting for too long, and they saw for themselves the strength of their enemy. He then looked down, and he saw the gleaming mithril ring on his finger. It was smeared with Orcs’ dark blood, but Junsu still found them beautiful. And it reminded him of his beloved.

Tears came to his eyes. How he wished his King was here. The King would know what to say, he would know what to do, and the men would obey him for he was their king. But he was not here. He was fighting his own war and only Valar knows if he was still alive.

Junsu gripped his bow tighter. No, he shall not lose hope. The King was alive and well, Junsu must have faith in him. And he shall not disappoint his king. He had taken an oath, and an oath he shall fulfill. He gazed around at his men, courage in his eyes as he spoke. “Where are the brave warriors? The ones that had fought alongside the Kings of Old? Ride out with me, for everything that is worth fighting for in this good world. For death and glory.”

He looked around and his gaze fell to the young sentry who cried out before. He grasped the young sentry’s shoulder, knowing that every man could hear him. “For Cardonna. For our people.”

He saw how the young sentry’s eyes changed. Trust was rebuilt. Hope was rekindled. Courage filled those eyes once more, the ones that before held nothing but despair now held bravery and loyalty. “Yes,” he heard the sentry spoke, “yes. There are things in this world that worth fighting for.”

Junsu smiled. “The horn of the White City shall sound in the deep.” He gazed to his men, determination filled his eyes.

“One last time.”

 

There was a roar and a blast of fire. The barricaded gate crumbled and crashed in smoke and dust, scattered as if it was struck by a thunderbolt. The Orcs had broken down the last barricaded gate. The Castle of the White City and all her richness was now within their reach.

But even as the gate fell, and the Orcs about it yelled, preparing to charge, a murmur arose behind them like a wind in the distance, and it grew to a ruckus crying strange words. Hearing the rumor of dismay that rose, the Orcs on the gate wavered and looked back.

There was a great clamor at the back, and there were many foreign elves, ones that did not bear the flags of Cardonna and wore different armors. Their numbers were not many, but they instilled fear to the Orcs. They knew they had to claim the castle soon, or else they would be attacked from front and back.

However the realization came too late for at that moment, sudden and courageous, from the highest tower of the castle, the sound of the great horn rang out. All that heard that sound trembled. Many of the Orcs cast themselves on their faces and covered their ears with their claws. Back from the deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood.

With a cry and a great noise, the elves of Cardonna charged. Down from the gates they roared, over the crumbling gate they swept, and they drove through a hoard of Orcs clamoring, each wanting to get away, for they were caught by surprise.

The King’s Consort was at the helm, leading the charge and behind him from the deep came the stern cries of elves issuing from the castle, driving forth to the enemy. Out poured all elves that were left, the last warriors of Cardonna. On they rode, the King’s Consort and his companions, slaying many enemies as they swept by.

But the Orcs did not stay silent. They reeled and screamed as they formed their terrible formation, their pikes and swords in hand. Already they had begun the counter-attack, and the elves of Cardonna fought for their lives once more, Junsu was no exception.

He swung his blade and knocked arrows on his bows, slaying many Orcs as he fought. Then suddenly a blinding pain came from his arm. A pike had pierced him.

Junsu then collapsed down to his knees. He did not move, he could not move, for the pain was too great now. An Orc, saw his chance and came rushing, sword ready at hand, a terrible gleam in his eyes as he raised his sword to kill the King’s Consort.

Suddenly the Orc fell with a terrible screech. He had been shot down with an arrow. Junsu saw Andy came rushing towards him. “My Lord! You are injured!”

The King’s Consort winced as he tried to stand with Andy’s help. Blood was pouring out from his wound, staining the good earth below. And in that very moment, away behind from the Fields of Pellenor, sounded another horn, this time it was a familiar one. Great horns of Cardonna wildly bellowing.

The King’s army had come at last.

 

All had not been lost. Changmin had expected to find his city in ruin, every thought had turned into worse as he journeyed from Cair Andros to the White City. But here she stood, smokes and ruins rose over her, but she was not yet taken. She still stood strong, proud and tall and Changmin knew that Junsu had fulfilled his oath.

The sound of battle grew louder as he rode closer to the Field of Methedras where dark black Orcs crawling like ants. There was an army elves with foreign armor and colors, and Changmin knew then that somehow reinforcement had arrived from the Kingdom of Saevacia. The forces had swept out the west side of Field of Methedras and now fought the black hordes upon the vast plain.

“My King!” a rider followed by few horsemen came galloping. Changmin recognized him. It was Junho, the crown prince from the neighboring kingdom, the brother of his beloved consort.

The young king sighed in relief. “Meldir, it is good to see you here,” he said in greeting. “Thank you. Your help is most welcome.”

He saw Junho nodded, but the prince did not smile. “I wish we can meet in better circumstance. I fear that you must hurry, for my brother has been injured. His leg has been speared with a pike. I can sense his pain through our bond.”

Changmin’s heart sank. The news shot through him as if it was a hot iron. Worry and guilt flooded him. Junsu was injured. He was alive, but he was injured.

Junho then spoke again. “We will open a path and distract them, but you must go straight to the City.”

The king nodded, showing that he understood. His grip on Aerwithen’s rein tightened. His own body was weary, as were his men around him. They had rode in fast speed without a moment rest, and it was only by his will alone that Changmin still stood. His duty was not over yet. He had to save his people, his city, his consort. Changmin gave a signal and raised such a battle cry as had never been heard before on Arda.

The forces of Cardonna swept down the slopes onto the black hordes, cutting a swathe in the dark ranks. Black blood spilled all about them as arrows flew through the air and the swift blades of Saevacian army danced. They galloped with no hesitation, deftly dividing ranks after ranks of vile Orcs as they made a way for the King to reach the city.

With every step from Aerwithen, Changmin felt his hope rose. His own sword raised, the King swung, decapitating Orcs clustering around his horse. He could hear the screams of Orcs, their terrible screech assaulting his ears, as they fell by his sword.

Junsu, Junsu, Junsu, the name chanted in his heart. His eyes gazed around, mindful of the ongoing battle but kept searching for the familiar form.

From the cries around him it was evident that the alliance of elves was triumphant. Already the Orcs scattered, stricken in fright as they did not expect for the forces of Cardonna and Saevacia to arrive. The Dark Lord had chose his best Orcs to fight at Cair Andros, and what was left of them were chosen for the Siege of the White City. They reveled in numbers, but their skills were poor; Changmin though weary as he was, knew how weak these Orcs were compared to those at Cair Andros.

The black creatures were scuttling away, trying to fly beyond the reaches of the blades that cut them down. They roared, swaying this way and that, turning from fear to fear. Again the horn sounded from the tower. The Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and pike. Like a black smoke driven by a wind they begun to fled.

Then, a shout went up, and Changmin’s heart filled with cold dread. A great black shape flew upon him. He looked up to the sky, and there he saw the Dark Lord Maglor, his Fell Beast with him. The Dark Lord flew fast across the Field.

Changmin could only watch as the Fell Beast landed, its great wings looming over Junsu.

-End of Chapter Twenty Three-


Glossary:
Gwador = brother
Saes = Please
Arda = time/earth
Valar = gods
Meldir= my friend