Ser Jorah mounted his horse and lead the charge out of the gates. Rhaegal and Viserion flew overhead lighting up the sky with gouts of flame. The light from their fire illuminated the horde of white walkers stalking towards them. The Others were ghostly white, tall, long limbed with glowing blue eyes that sent chills down Jorah's spine. He gripped the dragon glass tipped spear he carried a little tighter. He still wore his sword, even though he knew it would do little good against the enemy he could not leave it behind.
To the left and right of Jorah's group there were hundreds of other men lined up waiting for his commands. An unworldly noise came from the white walkers as they waved their ice swords in the air. Jorah held his fist in the air, calling for the troops to remain in place. The white walkers advanced towards them, some on foot and some on creatures that had once been horses. Once they were close enough the trebuchet fired some of the last buckets of dragon glass shards.
As the dragon glass hit the creatures in front of them, they made no noise, but wisps of vapour rose from where the stone had hit, slowly the ones that were affected began to shrivel and melt. The ones that were unaffected continued their slow plodding march towards the army. Behind them the trebuchet launched another shower of dragon glass.
More of the Others melted away and Jorah gave the order to charge. They had only had enough ammunition for two shots with the trebuchet and now it was up to the army. All around him he heard the battle cry of the wildlings and he knew the Unsullied would be marching in silence at their sides.
Jorah stabbed a white walker with his spear and wheeled his horse to the left as the creature began to shrivel and fall into watery pieces. He charged into the fight and downed two more walkers. As he stabbed at a third, something smashed into him from behind and knocked him from his saddle.
Jorah rolled on his back and saw Jon Snow walking towards him. The young Lord Commander offered him his hand and helped Jorah back onto his feet.
"Are you ok?" Jon asked.
"I think so?" Jorah asked, rotating his shoulder to test it, and looking around to see if he could see his assailant.
"Walker." Jon told him and pointed to a nearly dissolved puddle of ice.
"Thanks, what are you doing down here?" Jon was supposed to be on top of the Wall co-ordinating the attack.
"I left Tyrion in charge. I could not stand above the fight when so many of my men were out here."
Jorah nodded his approval and they both got back to the task at hand.
By the time the endless wave of White Walkers finally began to melt, they had been fighting for hours in ankle deep sludge and the men were tired. It seemed the was no end to the Others army of undead creatures, until one of the Nights Watchmen threw his dragon glass spear into the chest of a White Walker that appeared to be even taller this its lanky counterparts and that wore an icy crown on its head. The creature screamed an otherworldly wail that had anyone nearby it clutching their ears in pain. This one did not start to steam and melt like its counterparts. It continued its high pitched wailing until it suddenly shattered into millions of icy particles.
With their leader gone the other White Walkers stopped fighting and began to melt away. Finally a roar went up from the exhausted warriors on the battlefield. The enemy was defeated!
Lord Commander Jon Snow wearily leant on Longclaw and for the first time in months, he smiled. All around him he could hear the clattering of weapons and armour as they men celebrated. He was about to sink to his knees when a hand grasped his arm. Jon looked up in the mud splattered face of Ser Jorah Mormont and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
"Come, we need to see to the men." Jorah told him. While he did not look at all like his father, Ser Jorah reminded Jon very much of Joer Mormont. Jorah wasn't quite as gruff as the Old Bear had been, but his mannerisms and is concern for the men under his charge were the same.
Jon nodded and they turned to attend to their army.
Any dead were piled up and burnt. Womenfolk from the wildlings tended to the wounded and those were still able, collected up any fallen weapons and dragged them back through the tunnel. Jon commanded the watch to continue, to make sure no more White Walkers appeared, before returning the Castle to join his comrades for a meal and a well deserved tankard of ale.