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Chapter 5: Battle at the Fords of Isen
The skies were now completely covered with grey clouds. The storm had overtaken them with frightning speed and now was right on top of them. Rain lashed down on the Elven army drawn up around the great gates, the occasional flash of lightning silhouetted the black tower against the sky, yet no response was forthcoming to their presence. Whipped up into a fury by the winds, the heavy clouds unloaded their entire burden onto the earth below. Undaunted, the heralds rode forth and blew horns to call forth the embassy of Saruman.
The wait was not long, an answering call sounded from within over the tumult of the storm, and the Ambassador rode forth from the gates of the fortress. This was no Orc, but a Man who had pledged his allegiance to the corrupted White Wizard. He reigned up his horse in front of the leaders of the first company, and looked about him with a sneer. "Is this all that can be shown for the majesty and fabled power of the Firstborn? Pah! I will not waste words with a rabble of illiterate barn-dwellers and tree-huggers! Begone, and Saruman may allow you safe passage back to your hovels!" With that, he made to turn about and head away. The commanding voice of Gandalf rose in quiet wrath. "Be not so arrogant, traitor of Numenor, but return and hear what we have to say. Fail to comply, and things will go ill for you." The rider drew to a halt, and slowly turned to face him, smiling twistedly, "Very well, oh Grey Pilgrim. What is it that you and your... peasant militia wish to say?"
"Only this: Saruman has friends of ours captive. We demand their release and his unconditional surrender of power to us, with which we will withdraw our forces from the gates of Isengard and trouble him no more. If not, his power can be broken by force, and we will rescue our friends by strength of arms."
The Ambassador looked down on them from the rise in the road. He threw back his head and laughed uproarously, then glowered darkly, "Think you so? Be it known to you then that the power of Saruman is no longer limited to knowledge." With these words, he wheeled about and galloped through the gates. Horns began to sound from deep within the stone ring...
* * * * * *
"What is all this about?"
Saruman slowly turned from the balcony to look inquiringly at Aragorn. "The fulfilment of what has been forseen, the beginning of the end. Care to watch?" Knowing by now that it was pointless to resist, the Ranger walked up and peered out into the gathering storm. He saw that the Elven alliance had drawn up by the gates, which were opening for a single horseman to ride out to them. "My emissary, riding out to parley with the mighty Elves, while I cower in my tower," The wizard smiled, "Must keep up appearances, you know. I shall play their little game, before I unleash their destruction. They do not truly believe that their miserable assembly can contend with the will of Saruman do they? Ha! Poor fools! Every moment they remain merely hastens their end. Behold." He pointed with one long finger at the openings in the ground. Aragorn's keen eyes caught the glistening of armour in the rain. The Orcs had not been dismissed after all! Even now they were mustered at the entrances to the tunnels, poised for attack! He watched from afar the emissary turning tail and galloping through the gates towards him. Horn blasts sounded above the dull roar of the rain as the Orcs prepared to spring the trap. Unseen in the room behind the balcony, the palantir began to glow a fierce orange...
* * * * * *
"After him! To me, to me!" Elrohir yelled, drawing his sword and charging after the retreating rider. His brother and around four score of the elven cavalry followed him through the gates. They rode down the doorwards and emerged from out of the arch to look down into the Circle, just in time to see the myriad of tunnels begin to spew out their vile load. The emerging Orcs raised their scimitars high and rushed bellowing at the elves. As one, the cavalry sheathed their swords and notching arrows, began firing into the advancing horde. The orcs were wearing plate armour, but the arrows of the elves, guided by hundreds of years of practice, always penetrated to kill. Nevertheless, as the enemy began to fall with feathered shafts sticking out of visor and neck, yet more leaped over them and continued the charge.
"Back! Fall back, we must hold them at the gates!" The riders spoke to their mounts, and the horses began to back towards the archway while their riders kept up the withering hail of arrow-fire. The Ring of Isengard was now boiling with orcs, a shimmering black mass lit by the occasional flash of lightning, and they were quickly encroaching upon the arch. For each one that fell there were around twenty more to take its place. They leaped up the road snarling and barking , and the brothers realised that they would have to retreat before it became too late. "We can no longer hold them! To the Ford, quickly! Elrohir and I shall hold them back lest they rout us." Dismounting, they sent their horses after the rest of the fleeing cavalry. Drawing blades together, they stood under the arch and waited for the enemy.
* * * * * *
Aragorn and Saruman witnessed the stand at the gate, and observed the last of the cavalry turn tail and race back out. The wizard's eyes were blazing with cold fire as he leaned out to gaze upon his creation. "You see! Was it not as I have forseen? I shall triumph over my enemies! Not for naught was my use of the palantir, what is seen is what is yet to come!" Aragorn ignored him and stared frantically around. He knew that his friends and loved ones were out there, fighting and dying and he yet was stuck up here, useless, powerless to help. Or was he? Looking back into the room behind, he was shocked to see the astounding change that had come over the seeing- stone. It was now glowing as fiercely as the Sun herself, brightly lighting the enormous room. Dimly he recalled something Gandalf had once said to him. "Perilous to us all are the devices of an art greater than that which we possess ourselves." Suddenly it all became clear to him, the palantir was the link between Orthanc and Barad'dur! He looked back. The wizard was oblivious to his presence, bending all his will towards the enfolding debacle below. His black staff was leaning against the wall behind him. Realising that such a chance would not come again, he leaned back and grabbed it. The black metal was icy-cold and very heavy, yet Aragorn lifted it with ease as if an unseen force was aiding him. Advancing into the room, he raised it high above his head and pronounced these words:
"E'i'essa en'Elbereth aa'i'dhaeraow natulro leitha!"
Hearing this, Saruman turned his attention back to his guest. Seeing at once what was happening, fear and rage came into his face, "You fool! What are you doing?" He raised an arm, but was too late. The hand gripping the staff came down, and the white orb touched the red. With a mighty blast of light and heat, Aragorn stumbled back and collapsed against the wall, the staff dropping with a clatter from his numbed fingers. The palantir shattered and the pieces collapsed inwards into a ball of red fire. The wrought and carven stand, buckling and molten, was drawn upwards into the mass which promptly exploded outwards. The flash of light blinded him for several minutes with the after-image, and when he could see again, he was greeted by the sight of the White Wizard, his robes covered in soot, hurrying up the stairs to higher levels. Aragorn thought about giving chase, but remembered Arwen. Leaping over the scarred and smoking ruts in the floor, he raced down the stairs on the other side, after seizing his sword from where it hung on the wall. Ever as he descended the stairs his chilling vision of the future was prevailant in his mind. If what Saruman had said was true, and the future could not be changed, then he was purusing a doomed hope, yet he was not just going to sit idly by and let her be killed. Orcs guarding the bottom of the stairs were hewed down as he passed. The main door was locked, but the postern had been opened and he passed through it like a whirlwind.
* * * * * *
Gandalf and Elrond stood aghast as the cavalry came rushing back out of the archway. One of them rode up to the two and, reigning in his horse, spoke hurredly. "It is a trap! There are many thousands of Orcs in Ordonost, of a size and ferocity we have not seen the like of before! We must hold them in, else we will be speedily overrun. My lord Elrond, your sons are holding the Arch against them, but we must aid them." Gandalf responded quickly, "Go, old friend, take with you your hardiest folk and hold the entrance. Send archers into the Towers. I shall recall the rearguard." He wheeled round and galloped between the ranks towards the Fords. The First Company hastened into the gateway followed by some hundred of the best archers in Lorien who mounted the stairs into the fortified turrets on the roof, which also gave access to the walls. Celeborn and Galadriel were with Elrond when he joined the fray beside his sons. However, even though the initial assault by the Orcs had failed, and even though they were fleeing down the road being picked off by the archers of Lorien, the armies of Saruman had been trained in the use of many and varied weapons. The remainder of the Orcs had regrouped just out of range, and were now being joined by the main body of the army, the great companies of Uruk-hai. They were pulling out of the bowels of the earth a massive siege catapult. Its beam was a fashioned from a single massive tree, the scaffold was of iron and the sling of mail. A team of trolls followed behind dragging carts of munitions. The huge machine was halted on the road some several hundred yards from the Gate, and the huge dull-witted beasts began to load it. The Elves did not waste arrows on the shield wall in front, but withdrew inside the arch to await the onslaught. The Orcs had to drive them out of the way in order to themselves get out and engage on open ground, where, by virtue of their superior numbers, they would have the victory. Therefore, the Gate must be held against them for as long as possible.
Suddenly, with a whirr of released tension, the mighty weapon flung its load far into the sky where it was lost to sight against the black clouds. Yet, by some secret art, it burst into flame in midair and came screaming down onto the curtain wall some dozen yards off-target. The payload exploded cracking the stone and raining debris and blackened masonry down on the Elves drawn up outside. Those inside felt the impact through even the thick walls of the Arch. Looking down the tunnel, it could be seen that the machine was being reloaded for another shot. Elrond turned to Gandalf. "Dearest friend and counsellor, this seems to be our final hour. Yet, death may be a blessing should we fail here. We are stuck, being worn down like a nest of vermin. I would not have it so. I am going to mount and ride with the cavalry, we shall try to destroy the device. You take command, and, should anything happen to me, look out for my children." Without another word he left and mounting his fine warhorse called out to the others. With a fearsome war-cry, they raced out of the arch, towards the black mass of Orcs. As he rode, Elrond became aware that a dull glow was coming out of the windows of Orthanc, and that a tiny white figure was visible upon the peak." Saruman," he thought, "so you have shown yourself to witness my fate?" At that very moment a crash and echoing report came from the sky above his head. A bolt of lightning arced down from the sky to strike the carts of explosive munitions behind the catapult.
With an ear-splitting detonation the mighty war machine, its crew and a large chunk of the protecting forces were instantly desintegrated. A pillar of flame rose a hundred feet into the air. Writhing bodies and charred beams were flung in all directions. The charging elves drew up suddenly, shocked. The Orcs were even more surprised and for a moment there was deadly silence, punctuated only by the swish of the rain. Again a bolt came down, this time entering one of the great pits from whence the Orcs had emerged. The underground reservoir was vapourised and the scalding steam began to issue from the vents. Yelling in dismay, the Orcs broke in disarray and began to withdraw. With a yell of triumph, the Elven army pursued them into the acrid fog - rearguard and all, hewing them down as they fled. However, the forces of evil are never so easily routed. Saruman had also recruited divisions of the cruel Haradrim, swarthy men who had always been ready to the will of the Dark Lord. The leader of this band of mercenaries was a stalwart captain, wearing the finest armour and higly skilled with his mace of steel. Caped in red, he strode through the mist seeking quarry. He had been very active in the battle and had already killed several Elves.
* * * * * *
Aragorn burst through the guards at the door of Orthanc to find himself swathed in mist. He ran along the Road, as best as he could judge, occasionally catching glimpses of figures within the mist, yet he heeded them not. His mastering desire was to fing Arwen and prevent her death. The image from his vision was clear in his mind, and he knew that she was fighting somewhere in the mist. He ran suddenly into a clear patch and came face to face with a rag-tag group of Orcs who seemed in no mood to fight. Anduril burned as he cleaved his way through them. He was suddenly joined by Elrohir who seemed in a similar mood. Dispatching their foes, he turned to Aragorn, "Some of our number have headed underground to free the prisoners. Was Frodo among them? Has the Ring been taken?" Aragorn stared numbly back, "Arwen, she's in danger... I must go." Without another word, he raced off desperately. The landscape and images suddenly became terribly familiar. The mists cleared and he saw her...
As he remembered, she was busily engaged skewering some hapless goblins who were doing their best to get out of her way. He ran towards her and yelled, but it was drowned out by a crash of thunder from right overhead. He raised his sword. She was still a few hundred yards away. But the mist behind her blackened, and a huge dark figure strode out behind her. The mace rose and fell with a terrific swipe knocking her to her knees. Legs apart, like an executioner, it raised the weapon for a two-handed blow.
* * * * * *
The arrow whined past Aragorn's ear and flew, straight and true, to embed itself in the figure's neck. It staggered back and leaned upon it's weapon, while with its other hand it yanked out the arrow. The delay was all that was needed. Aragorn saw Arwen pull a white dagger out of a sheath and, rising, plunge it through the visor of her foe, who crashed to the ground. He raced up to her, overjoyed. "I never knew you had it in you!" was the best he could come up with. She smiled wearily at him after yanking her blade out of the fallen opponent. "He never knew he had it in him either!" she murmured, before falling into his arms.
Legolas strode up behind the two, bow in hand. "Seems like I arrived in the nick of time," he said, smiling broadly. The mists cleared around the three, and all that could be seen was the Elves striding amongst the ruins and prone Orcs.
The storm had passed.
The skies were now completely covered with grey clouds. The storm had overtaken them with frightning speed and now was right on top of them. Rain lashed down on the Elven army drawn up around the great gates, the occasional flash of lightning silhouetted the black tower against the sky, yet no response was forthcoming to their presence. Whipped up into a fury by the winds, the heavy clouds unloaded their entire burden onto the earth below. Undaunted, the heralds rode forth and blew horns to call forth the embassy of Saruman.
The wait was not long, an answering call sounded from within over the tumult of the storm, and the Ambassador rode forth from the gates of the fortress. This was no Orc, but a Man who had pledged his allegiance to the corrupted White Wizard. He reigned up his horse in front of the leaders of the first company, and looked about him with a sneer. "Is this all that can be shown for the majesty and fabled power of the Firstborn? Pah! I will not waste words with a rabble of illiterate barn-dwellers and tree-huggers! Begone, and Saruman may allow you safe passage back to your hovels!" With that, he made to turn about and head away. The commanding voice of Gandalf rose in quiet wrath. "Be not so arrogant, traitor of Numenor, but return and hear what we have to say. Fail to comply, and things will go ill for you." The rider drew to a halt, and slowly turned to face him, smiling twistedly, "Very well, oh Grey Pilgrim. What is it that you and your... peasant militia wish to say?"
"Only this: Saruman has friends of ours captive. We demand their release and his unconditional surrender of power to us, with which we will withdraw our forces from the gates of Isengard and trouble him no more. If not, his power can be broken by force, and we will rescue our friends by strength of arms."
The Ambassador looked down on them from the rise in the road. He threw back his head and laughed uproarously, then glowered darkly, "Think you so? Be it known to you then that the power of Saruman is no longer limited to knowledge." With these words, he wheeled about and galloped through the gates. Horns began to sound from deep within the stone ring...
* * * * * *
"What is all this about?"
Saruman slowly turned from the balcony to look inquiringly at Aragorn. "The fulfilment of what has been forseen, the beginning of the end. Care to watch?" Knowing by now that it was pointless to resist, the Ranger walked up and peered out into the gathering storm. He saw that the Elven alliance had drawn up by the gates, which were opening for a single horseman to ride out to them. "My emissary, riding out to parley with the mighty Elves, while I cower in my tower," The wizard smiled, "Must keep up appearances, you know. I shall play their little game, before I unleash their destruction. They do not truly believe that their miserable assembly can contend with the will of Saruman do they? Ha! Poor fools! Every moment they remain merely hastens their end. Behold." He pointed with one long finger at the openings in the ground. Aragorn's keen eyes caught the glistening of armour in the rain. The Orcs had not been dismissed after all! Even now they were mustered at the entrances to the tunnels, poised for attack! He watched from afar the emissary turning tail and galloping through the gates towards him. Horn blasts sounded above the dull roar of the rain as the Orcs prepared to spring the trap. Unseen in the room behind the balcony, the palantir began to glow a fierce orange...
* * * * * *
"After him! To me, to me!" Elrohir yelled, drawing his sword and charging after the retreating rider. His brother and around four score of the elven cavalry followed him through the gates. They rode down the doorwards and emerged from out of the arch to look down into the Circle, just in time to see the myriad of tunnels begin to spew out their vile load. The emerging Orcs raised their scimitars high and rushed bellowing at the elves. As one, the cavalry sheathed their swords and notching arrows, began firing into the advancing horde. The orcs were wearing plate armour, but the arrows of the elves, guided by hundreds of years of practice, always penetrated to kill. Nevertheless, as the enemy began to fall with feathered shafts sticking out of visor and neck, yet more leaped over them and continued the charge.
"Back! Fall back, we must hold them at the gates!" The riders spoke to their mounts, and the horses began to back towards the archway while their riders kept up the withering hail of arrow-fire. The Ring of Isengard was now boiling with orcs, a shimmering black mass lit by the occasional flash of lightning, and they were quickly encroaching upon the arch. For each one that fell there were around twenty more to take its place. They leaped up the road snarling and barking , and the brothers realised that they would have to retreat before it became too late. "We can no longer hold them! To the Ford, quickly! Elrohir and I shall hold them back lest they rout us." Dismounting, they sent their horses after the rest of the fleeing cavalry. Drawing blades together, they stood under the arch and waited for the enemy.
* * * * * *
Aragorn and Saruman witnessed the stand at the gate, and observed the last of the cavalry turn tail and race back out. The wizard's eyes were blazing with cold fire as he leaned out to gaze upon his creation. "You see! Was it not as I have forseen? I shall triumph over my enemies! Not for naught was my use of the palantir, what is seen is what is yet to come!" Aragorn ignored him and stared frantically around. He knew that his friends and loved ones were out there, fighting and dying and he yet was stuck up here, useless, powerless to help. Or was he? Looking back into the room behind, he was shocked to see the astounding change that had come over the seeing- stone. It was now glowing as fiercely as the Sun herself, brightly lighting the enormous room. Dimly he recalled something Gandalf had once said to him. "Perilous to us all are the devices of an art greater than that which we possess ourselves." Suddenly it all became clear to him, the palantir was the link between Orthanc and Barad'dur! He looked back. The wizard was oblivious to his presence, bending all his will towards the enfolding debacle below. His black staff was leaning against the wall behind him. Realising that such a chance would not come again, he leaned back and grabbed it. The black metal was icy-cold and very heavy, yet Aragorn lifted it with ease as if an unseen force was aiding him. Advancing into the room, he raised it high above his head and pronounced these words:
"E'i'essa en'Elbereth aa'i'dhaeraow natulro leitha!"
Hearing this, Saruman turned his attention back to his guest. Seeing at once what was happening, fear and rage came into his face, "You fool! What are you doing?" He raised an arm, but was too late. The hand gripping the staff came down, and the white orb touched the red. With a mighty blast of light and heat, Aragorn stumbled back and collapsed against the wall, the staff dropping with a clatter from his numbed fingers. The palantir shattered and the pieces collapsed inwards into a ball of red fire. The wrought and carven stand, buckling and molten, was drawn upwards into the mass which promptly exploded outwards. The flash of light blinded him for several minutes with the after-image, and when he could see again, he was greeted by the sight of the White Wizard, his robes covered in soot, hurrying up the stairs to higher levels. Aragorn thought about giving chase, but remembered Arwen. Leaping over the scarred and smoking ruts in the floor, he raced down the stairs on the other side, after seizing his sword from where it hung on the wall. Ever as he descended the stairs his chilling vision of the future was prevailant in his mind. If what Saruman had said was true, and the future could not be changed, then he was purusing a doomed hope, yet he was not just going to sit idly by and let her be killed. Orcs guarding the bottom of the stairs were hewed down as he passed. The main door was locked, but the postern had been opened and he passed through it like a whirlwind.
* * * * * *
Gandalf and Elrond stood aghast as the cavalry came rushing back out of the archway. One of them rode up to the two and, reigning in his horse, spoke hurredly. "It is a trap! There are many thousands of Orcs in Ordonost, of a size and ferocity we have not seen the like of before! We must hold them in, else we will be speedily overrun. My lord Elrond, your sons are holding the Arch against them, but we must aid them." Gandalf responded quickly, "Go, old friend, take with you your hardiest folk and hold the entrance. Send archers into the Towers. I shall recall the rearguard." He wheeled round and galloped between the ranks towards the Fords. The First Company hastened into the gateway followed by some hundred of the best archers in Lorien who mounted the stairs into the fortified turrets on the roof, which also gave access to the walls. Celeborn and Galadriel were with Elrond when he joined the fray beside his sons. However, even though the initial assault by the Orcs had failed, and even though they were fleeing down the road being picked off by the archers of Lorien, the armies of Saruman had been trained in the use of many and varied weapons. The remainder of the Orcs had regrouped just out of range, and were now being joined by the main body of the army, the great companies of Uruk-hai. They were pulling out of the bowels of the earth a massive siege catapult. Its beam was a fashioned from a single massive tree, the scaffold was of iron and the sling of mail. A team of trolls followed behind dragging carts of munitions. The huge machine was halted on the road some several hundred yards from the Gate, and the huge dull-witted beasts began to load it. The Elves did not waste arrows on the shield wall in front, but withdrew inside the arch to await the onslaught. The Orcs had to drive them out of the way in order to themselves get out and engage on open ground, where, by virtue of their superior numbers, they would have the victory. Therefore, the Gate must be held against them for as long as possible.
Suddenly, with a whirr of released tension, the mighty weapon flung its load far into the sky where it was lost to sight against the black clouds. Yet, by some secret art, it burst into flame in midair and came screaming down onto the curtain wall some dozen yards off-target. The payload exploded cracking the stone and raining debris and blackened masonry down on the Elves drawn up outside. Those inside felt the impact through even the thick walls of the Arch. Looking down the tunnel, it could be seen that the machine was being reloaded for another shot. Elrond turned to Gandalf. "Dearest friend and counsellor, this seems to be our final hour. Yet, death may be a blessing should we fail here. We are stuck, being worn down like a nest of vermin. I would not have it so. I am going to mount and ride with the cavalry, we shall try to destroy the device. You take command, and, should anything happen to me, look out for my children." Without another word he left and mounting his fine warhorse called out to the others. With a fearsome war-cry, they raced out of the arch, towards the black mass of Orcs. As he rode, Elrond became aware that a dull glow was coming out of the windows of Orthanc, and that a tiny white figure was visible upon the peak." Saruman," he thought, "so you have shown yourself to witness my fate?" At that very moment a crash and echoing report came from the sky above his head. A bolt of lightning arced down from the sky to strike the carts of explosive munitions behind the catapult.
With an ear-splitting detonation the mighty war machine, its crew and a large chunk of the protecting forces were instantly desintegrated. A pillar of flame rose a hundred feet into the air. Writhing bodies and charred beams were flung in all directions. The charging elves drew up suddenly, shocked. The Orcs were even more surprised and for a moment there was deadly silence, punctuated only by the swish of the rain. Again a bolt came down, this time entering one of the great pits from whence the Orcs had emerged. The underground reservoir was vapourised and the scalding steam began to issue from the vents. Yelling in dismay, the Orcs broke in disarray and began to withdraw. With a yell of triumph, the Elven army pursued them into the acrid fog - rearguard and all, hewing them down as they fled. However, the forces of evil are never so easily routed. Saruman had also recruited divisions of the cruel Haradrim, swarthy men who had always been ready to the will of the Dark Lord. The leader of this band of mercenaries was a stalwart captain, wearing the finest armour and higly skilled with his mace of steel. Caped in red, he strode through the mist seeking quarry. He had been very active in the battle and had already killed several Elves.
* * * * * *
Aragorn burst through the guards at the door of Orthanc to find himself swathed in mist. He ran along the Road, as best as he could judge, occasionally catching glimpses of figures within the mist, yet he heeded them not. His mastering desire was to fing Arwen and prevent her death. The image from his vision was clear in his mind, and he knew that she was fighting somewhere in the mist. He ran suddenly into a clear patch and came face to face with a rag-tag group of Orcs who seemed in no mood to fight. Anduril burned as he cleaved his way through them. He was suddenly joined by Elrohir who seemed in a similar mood. Dispatching their foes, he turned to Aragorn, "Some of our number have headed underground to free the prisoners. Was Frodo among them? Has the Ring been taken?" Aragorn stared numbly back, "Arwen, she's in danger... I must go." Without another word, he raced off desperately. The landscape and images suddenly became terribly familiar. The mists cleared and he saw her...
As he remembered, she was busily engaged skewering some hapless goblins who were doing their best to get out of her way. He ran towards her and yelled, but it was drowned out by a crash of thunder from right overhead. He raised his sword. She was still a few hundred yards away. But the mist behind her blackened, and a huge dark figure strode out behind her. The mace rose and fell with a terrific swipe knocking her to her knees. Legs apart, like an executioner, it raised the weapon for a two-handed blow.
* * * * * *
The arrow whined past Aragorn's ear and flew, straight and true, to embed itself in the figure's neck. It staggered back and leaned upon it's weapon, while with its other hand it yanked out the arrow. The delay was all that was needed. Aragorn saw Arwen pull a white dagger out of a sheath and, rising, plunge it through the visor of her foe, who crashed to the ground. He raced up to her, overjoyed. "I never knew you had it in you!" was the best he could come up with. She smiled wearily at him after yanking her blade out of the fallen opponent. "He never knew he had it in him either!" she murmured, before falling into his arms.
Legolas strode up behind the two, bow in hand. "Seems like I arrived in the nick of time," he said, smiling broadly. The mists cleared around the three, and all that could be seen was the Elves striding amongst the ruins and prone Orcs.
The storm had passed.