Just something I wrote, inspired by one of the battles in the Lord of the Rings movies. Can you tell what battle it is? Enjoy!
A loud, ringing cry sounded in the distance, announcing the enemy's approach. The archers in the parapets pulled taut their bowstrings to their ears, the heavy rain running down their arms and faces unheeded. Their hair, reaching below their shoulders, soon was plastered to their necks and upper backs. Cloaks became hues darker, sinking from royal blues to near-black. Thus they remained, still as statues.
Below on the ground stood men in shining mail, glistening due to both polish and rain. Tunics red emblazoned with golden stallions grew darker, seemingly sinister. Some were armed with spears, others broadswords, and yet others with naught but a dagger or two. The more experienced of them soon grew impatient, shifting their grips on the leather-wrapped hilts and heavy metal shields in their grips. Behind these were the young, - some no older than ten- looking and whispering nervously to each other as they readjusted the too-large metal helms slotted over unruly, dirty hair. They glanced longingly at the men before them, wishing they had been able to bear the weight of any armor at all over their already torn tunics. Instead, they had made do by scavenging for any spare cloth to wind around themselves in hopes of even a minimal amount of protection against the enemies' stinging bites. Among the boys, a single dagger was the weapon of choice, clutched in a fear-fueled death grip.
Those inexperienced were not the only ones to wish they were not in this situation, yet not one soldier left their post. They all knew their reason, and it was the same for all; the enemy would not be allowed to touch the women and children hiding in relative protection within the caves beneath them all. And so they stood, to protect and guard wives, sisters, cousins, and friends.
Thunder upon the ground was now audible, first to the archers, and soon to the men below. Dozens of bodies came into sight. Hundreds. Thousands. Left or right, as far as the eye could see were armed creatures, rapidly approaching. In the distance could be seen siege towers and catapults, pulled and pushed by beasts.
Aware of to whom they spoke so as to refrain from frightening the younglings prematurely, the archers reported that which they observed. The king's face set into a mask of determination upon hearing of the unwelcome developments. Yet he had expected such tidings. They only meant that their enemy was well-prepared. They were merely beasts following orders, though, he reminded himself. They had no real drive, no reason for this but to please their commander. Nothing to protect, nothing to guard. The king's mind wandered to his own niece, below him even now, though she tried to persuade him to allow her to stand in battle beside him.
Dragging himself from the memory, the king was dismayed to find that the enemy's approach had not slowed at all; if possible, it had increased.
Suddenly, another messenger ran from the parapet, stopping himself just before bowling his King over. "They've… they've stopped," he panted.
"What?" the king asked incredulously.
"They stopped. All of 'em, sir! They don't know why," he explained, waving a hand above at the archers. "But they're not doing anything! They're just… standing there, in straight lines, doing nothing!"
"How far from our walls?" the king inquired.
"About one hundred meters, sir! What do we do?" the messenger began to panic, showing how young this boy was. The king laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. The eleven-year-old looked up into his eyes, drawing strength and confidence from his King.
"Tell them to hold until the enemy acts." As the messenger boy scrambled off to reiterate his instructions, the king found himself praying that this heroic lad would survive.
Too soon the war-cries rang afresh from those beyond the walls. Squaring his shoulders and unsheathing his sword, the king began to shout. "These beasts may seem formidable, men, but they know not what they fight for! They have not the passion, nor the will, for this fight today! Remember your wives! Your sisters! Your daughters, cousins, nieces! Fight for them, and we will emerge this day triumphant! CHARGE!"
What do you think?