Chapter 24: Battle cries
The next day Selina and Tulrah departed for Minas-Tirith with about hundred soldiers, some of the most skilled human fighters Tulrah's army had to offer. The quickest horses and the best weapons had been picked out for them. Now the landscape was literally flying past them as they sped towards their destination. Time was essential, as the swiftness of their actions would decide over victory or defeat.
Tulrah's behaviour towards her had changed considerably. He had been highly pleased by the conversation between Legolas and her, praising her repeatedly for her cruel words. Though he still kept a close eye on her, he seemed to respect her now and treated her as an equal. It took all her strength and restraint to keep up the illusion that she was on his side and could be trusted. She had to pay attention not let any of her true emotions show and often speak words for which she despised herself.
She knew that difficult days were lying ahead of her, but her mind always wandered back to Legolas. Selina prayed silently to the Valar that they would protect him in the coming battle between Tulrah's men and the army of Gondor.
~
Aragorn and Gandalf sat on their horse overlooking the valley below them from the top of a soft hill. Hundreds of men, Orcs and Uruk-hai were making their way through those lands, uncountable black dots alive with activity like an ant trail. The king of Gondor exhaled heavily. Now was the time to strike, the inevitable could no longer be postponed. He raised his hand to give the sign to attack, sealing the fate of many men. Men that had left behind their families and would now probably die in battle, never to return to their children and wives. As bleak as the prospective of the impending battle appeared, at least they had the element of surprise on their side, as the army hid behind the other side of the hill, waiting for his command.
He looked into the grim faces of his friends, the remains of the company of hunters that had set out to destroy Tulrah and his army. Gandalf, the most powerful wizard of all times, Gimli the stubborn dwarf, the only one of his kind to carry the title elf-friend and Sulrathi, the totem animal that possessed mystical powers. Their expressions and their grim determination burned forever into his mind.
He nodded at them and then slowly lowered his hand. On his command the men set in motion like a gigantic wave, washing down over the slope. The army of Gondor sped down the hill towards the enemy. The soldiers encouraging each other with loud battle cries, their armours and weapons clattering loudly.
For a moment Tulrah's army froze in motion and all heads whipped around in the direction of the hill. Soldiers poured down from it like the stream of river. In front of them rode an old man, clothed in a white robe that shone brightly in the light and next to him the regal looking, broad shouldered commander of this army. Both terrifying to behold and dangerous in their rage. The Orcs bared their sharp teeth and the Uruk-hais let out loud cries, drooling over the possibility to satisfy their constant desire for blood spilling and violence.
A loud crash could be heard, as the two armies collided. The sound of steel meeting steel, of blades cutting through flesh mixed with death cries. The battle had begun. Survival was only a matter of luck and skill in this raging sea of sword blows and attackers, where every wrong move meant death.
For Aragorn the first moments of the battle passed like in a red haze, hacking and slicing his way through the seemingly incessant wave of attackers. He swung his sword like a scythe, the hidious foes around him, falling like spikes in a field of barley. In his universe everything else faded to gray, as his only thought was to kill the enemy in order to ensure his own survival. Slice, pierce, slash. A body dropped at his feet. Somewhere in the process his horse was wounded by the lance of an Orc, he dimly noted, and he had to continue fight by feet. After a few moments - he couldn't say how much time had passed, because he lost track of it in the heat of the battle - the number of attackers finally thinned.
He registered a white blur from the corner of his eye. Gandalf was sitting high up on Shadowfax, striking down his attackers with incredible ease, as if they were nothing but clumsy children storming at him with wooden swords instead of with deadly steel. It was in moments like those when Aragorn remembered that his friend was not merely a wise and good-humoured old man, but one of the mightiest wizards of Middle-Earth.
"Aragorn!" he heard a cry from behind and immediately whipped around, striking down an attacking Uruk-hai in the process. Gimli was approaching him through the chaos of the battle, cutting his way through attackers that blocked his way with his axe. Finally the dwarf was standing before him, covered with blood and dirt and breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight.
"Aragorn, we have to get to Legolas and Selina! They hold them captive in a prison wagon," the dwarf informed him hastily.
He nodded quickly at his friend and the started searching for the wagon Gimli had described to him in the midst of the turmoil of the battle. Several enemies were blocking their way in the process and they were often involved in brief fights before they could continue their way.
The ground was already covered with the corpses of men, Orcs and Uruk-hai. The blood of the fallen formed puddles and mixed, for in death all differences between them had disappeared. Friend and foe lay next to each other, slain and dead, victims of this angry battle.
Gimli and Aragorn finally spotted the prison wagon. It was heavily guarded by several particularly nasty looking Uruk-hais and humans.
"What do you say, Master Aragorn? Who might be the ugliest one of those creatures?" the dwarf asked with a raised eyebrow.
The heads of the guards whipped around in unison and an angry snarl escaped their throats.
"Well, I really can't decide. But I suppose they all will be pleased if we kill them and thereby relieve them from the burden of such disgusting faces."
The creatures let out angry screams and ran at them with their swords ready to strike. The first attackers fell under their weapons as quickly as a ripe apple from a tree. The other guards hesitated briefly and chose to be more careful than their predecessors. Nevertheless the fight was short, as they could not withhold the combined rage of the Aragorn and Gimli. "This will teach you never to lay hands on the friend's of a dwarf again, you bastards!" the dwarf screamed and dealt a deadly blow of his axe to the last standing Uruk-hai.
When they arrived at the door of the wagon the were stopped by one last obstacle. It was effectively closed by a heavy lock. "Step back!" Gimli announced and after a mighty blow of his axe the lock was no more.
Aragorn quickly opened the door and stepped inside, Gimli right on toe. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, he was hit by a strong kick in the chest that took the wind out of his sails and sent him flying backwards out of the wagon, taking the dwarf with him in his fall. "Aragorn! Gimli! I am sorry, I thought it was the guards that were trying to take me !" he heard Legolas's voice exclaim seconds later and then a pair of strong hands help him and the dwarf to their feet again.
Aragorn looked at his elvish friend and noticed several already healing cuts and bruises on his face. His clothes were dirty and stained with his own blood. Legolas was blinking rapidly, his eyes slowly adapting to broad daylights, after days spent in the darkness of his prison.
"We have to leave immediately!" the elf announced before his friends could say anything.
"What kind of greeting is that, Master Elf?" Gimli exclaimed with a frown on his face. "We've just saved your life. A 'thank you' would be appropriate right now." He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.
"Thank you very much, both of you. But Selina is in danger and we have to hurry if we want to save her and Minas-Tirith," Legolas replied patiently, picking up one of the swords of the slain guards, while he did so. "Tulrah and a few hundred of his men have separated from the main army and are riding towards your city, Aragorn. He wants to take the eye staff and with it ultimate power. Selina pretended to be on his side in order to win his trust and overwhelm him later when he doesn't suspect anything," he explained hastily his eyes searching the battlefield nervously.
Aragorn touched his friend's arm and looked at him with a grim expression on his face. "Legolas, I am the king of Gondor now! I can't just leave my soldiers in the middle of a battle to go on a rescue mission, though I also fear for my city and my beloved wife."
For a brief second rage flashed in Legolas's eyes, but as quickly as it had come it disappeared again. The elf nodded in understanding, "Then I better be on my way and take care that our loved ones are save."
Aragorn nodded and deep felt gratitude was ringing in his voice when he said, "Thank you, my friend."
"Take care, Master Elf!", Gimli said in a friendly tone.
Legolas smiled briefly at his friends and quickly run over the battle field to search for an ownerless horse that would carry him all the way to Minas- Tirith. After a few minutes he discovered a brown horse, walking aimlessly over the battleground that was covered with blood and bodies. He swiftly mounted the horse and through on last glance back at his friends.
Suddenly he heard a loud growl and looked down. At the feet of his horse sat Sulrathi, her black fur shimmering in the sun and her claws and fangs covered with the blood of the enemy. "I suppose you want to save her as well, my friend. Then lets hurry!", he said to the she-panther and they both took off speedily in the direction of Minas-Tirith.
The next day Selina and Tulrah departed for Minas-Tirith with about hundred soldiers, some of the most skilled human fighters Tulrah's army had to offer. The quickest horses and the best weapons had been picked out for them. Now the landscape was literally flying past them as they sped towards their destination. Time was essential, as the swiftness of their actions would decide over victory or defeat.
Tulrah's behaviour towards her had changed considerably. He had been highly pleased by the conversation between Legolas and her, praising her repeatedly for her cruel words. Though he still kept a close eye on her, he seemed to respect her now and treated her as an equal. It took all her strength and restraint to keep up the illusion that she was on his side and could be trusted. She had to pay attention not let any of her true emotions show and often speak words for which she despised herself.
She knew that difficult days were lying ahead of her, but her mind always wandered back to Legolas. Selina prayed silently to the Valar that they would protect him in the coming battle between Tulrah's men and the army of Gondor.
~
Aragorn and Gandalf sat on their horse overlooking the valley below them from the top of a soft hill. Hundreds of men, Orcs and Uruk-hai were making their way through those lands, uncountable black dots alive with activity like an ant trail. The king of Gondor exhaled heavily. Now was the time to strike, the inevitable could no longer be postponed. He raised his hand to give the sign to attack, sealing the fate of many men. Men that had left behind their families and would now probably die in battle, never to return to their children and wives. As bleak as the prospective of the impending battle appeared, at least they had the element of surprise on their side, as the army hid behind the other side of the hill, waiting for his command.
He looked into the grim faces of his friends, the remains of the company of hunters that had set out to destroy Tulrah and his army. Gandalf, the most powerful wizard of all times, Gimli the stubborn dwarf, the only one of his kind to carry the title elf-friend and Sulrathi, the totem animal that possessed mystical powers. Their expressions and their grim determination burned forever into his mind.
He nodded at them and then slowly lowered his hand. On his command the men set in motion like a gigantic wave, washing down over the slope. The army of Gondor sped down the hill towards the enemy. The soldiers encouraging each other with loud battle cries, their armours and weapons clattering loudly.
For a moment Tulrah's army froze in motion and all heads whipped around in the direction of the hill. Soldiers poured down from it like the stream of river. In front of them rode an old man, clothed in a white robe that shone brightly in the light and next to him the regal looking, broad shouldered commander of this army. Both terrifying to behold and dangerous in their rage. The Orcs bared their sharp teeth and the Uruk-hais let out loud cries, drooling over the possibility to satisfy their constant desire for blood spilling and violence.
A loud crash could be heard, as the two armies collided. The sound of steel meeting steel, of blades cutting through flesh mixed with death cries. The battle had begun. Survival was only a matter of luck and skill in this raging sea of sword blows and attackers, where every wrong move meant death.
For Aragorn the first moments of the battle passed like in a red haze, hacking and slicing his way through the seemingly incessant wave of attackers. He swung his sword like a scythe, the hidious foes around him, falling like spikes in a field of barley. In his universe everything else faded to gray, as his only thought was to kill the enemy in order to ensure his own survival. Slice, pierce, slash. A body dropped at his feet. Somewhere in the process his horse was wounded by the lance of an Orc, he dimly noted, and he had to continue fight by feet. After a few moments - he couldn't say how much time had passed, because he lost track of it in the heat of the battle - the number of attackers finally thinned.
He registered a white blur from the corner of his eye. Gandalf was sitting high up on Shadowfax, striking down his attackers with incredible ease, as if they were nothing but clumsy children storming at him with wooden swords instead of with deadly steel. It was in moments like those when Aragorn remembered that his friend was not merely a wise and good-humoured old man, but one of the mightiest wizards of Middle-Earth.
"Aragorn!" he heard a cry from behind and immediately whipped around, striking down an attacking Uruk-hai in the process. Gimli was approaching him through the chaos of the battle, cutting his way through attackers that blocked his way with his axe. Finally the dwarf was standing before him, covered with blood and dirt and breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight.
"Aragorn, we have to get to Legolas and Selina! They hold them captive in a prison wagon," the dwarf informed him hastily.
He nodded quickly at his friend and the started searching for the wagon Gimli had described to him in the midst of the turmoil of the battle. Several enemies were blocking their way in the process and they were often involved in brief fights before they could continue their way.
The ground was already covered with the corpses of men, Orcs and Uruk-hai. The blood of the fallen formed puddles and mixed, for in death all differences between them had disappeared. Friend and foe lay next to each other, slain and dead, victims of this angry battle.
Gimli and Aragorn finally spotted the prison wagon. It was heavily guarded by several particularly nasty looking Uruk-hais and humans.
"What do you say, Master Aragorn? Who might be the ugliest one of those creatures?" the dwarf asked with a raised eyebrow.
The heads of the guards whipped around in unison and an angry snarl escaped their throats.
"Well, I really can't decide. But I suppose they all will be pleased if we kill them and thereby relieve them from the burden of such disgusting faces."
The creatures let out angry screams and ran at them with their swords ready to strike. The first attackers fell under their weapons as quickly as a ripe apple from a tree. The other guards hesitated briefly and chose to be more careful than their predecessors. Nevertheless the fight was short, as they could not withhold the combined rage of the Aragorn and Gimli. "This will teach you never to lay hands on the friend's of a dwarf again, you bastards!" the dwarf screamed and dealt a deadly blow of his axe to the last standing Uruk-hai.
When they arrived at the door of the wagon the were stopped by one last obstacle. It was effectively closed by a heavy lock. "Step back!" Gimli announced and after a mighty blow of his axe the lock was no more.
Aragorn quickly opened the door and stepped inside, Gimli right on toe. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, he was hit by a strong kick in the chest that took the wind out of his sails and sent him flying backwards out of the wagon, taking the dwarf with him in his fall. "Aragorn! Gimli! I am sorry, I thought it was the guards that were trying to take me !" he heard Legolas's voice exclaim seconds later and then a pair of strong hands help him and the dwarf to their feet again.
Aragorn looked at his elvish friend and noticed several already healing cuts and bruises on his face. His clothes were dirty and stained with his own blood. Legolas was blinking rapidly, his eyes slowly adapting to broad daylights, after days spent in the darkness of his prison.
"We have to leave immediately!" the elf announced before his friends could say anything.
"What kind of greeting is that, Master Elf?" Gimli exclaimed with a frown on his face. "We've just saved your life. A 'thank you' would be appropriate right now." He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.
"Thank you very much, both of you. But Selina is in danger and we have to hurry if we want to save her and Minas-Tirith," Legolas replied patiently, picking up one of the swords of the slain guards, while he did so. "Tulrah and a few hundred of his men have separated from the main army and are riding towards your city, Aragorn. He wants to take the eye staff and with it ultimate power. Selina pretended to be on his side in order to win his trust and overwhelm him later when he doesn't suspect anything," he explained hastily his eyes searching the battlefield nervously.
Aragorn touched his friend's arm and looked at him with a grim expression on his face. "Legolas, I am the king of Gondor now! I can't just leave my soldiers in the middle of a battle to go on a rescue mission, though I also fear for my city and my beloved wife."
For a brief second rage flashed in Legolas's eyes, but as quickly as it had come it disappeared again. The elf nodded in understanding, "Then I better be on my way and take care that our loved ones are save."
Aragorn nodded and deep felt gratitude was ringing in his voice when he said, "Thank you, my friend."
"Take care, Master Elf!", Gimli said in a friendly tone.
Legolas smiled briefly at his friends and quickly run over the battle field to search for an ownerless horse that would carry him all the way to Minas- Tirith. After a few minutes he discovered a brown horse, walking aimlessly over the battleground that was covered with blood and bodies. He swiftly mounted the horse and through on last glance back at his friends.
Suddenly he heard a loud growl and looked down. At the feet of his horse sat Sulrathi, her black fur shimmering in the sun and her claws and fangs covered with the blood of the enemy. "I suppose you want to save her as well, my friend. Then lets hurry!", he said to the she-panther and they both took off speedily in the direction of Minas-Tirith.
