Chapter 2: The Arrival
(updated 7/17/2005)
The portal closed behind the last wagon to enter Middle Earth. According to the information provided by Cordelia (via the PTB's, or whom the locals called the Valar), they were facing the direction that then needed to travel. Ahead of them was a fortress called Helm's Deep, where the forces of good would soon be ambushed by a vastly superior force. The home team would have the advantage of a fairly kick-ass fortress, but unless they received assistance they were doomed.
Although a local wizard was supposed to be bringing a relief force, there was a fair chance that he wouldn't arrive in time. If any of the key players were to die before they completed their destinies, the big bad would most likely conquer this world. Faith was not going to let that happen.
"Listen up, Slayers! Today, we march to defend a bunch of innocents from an army of monsters. You have all been briefed on the creatures we will face. Just remember, the smaller man-like enemies will be weakened by the sun, but the larger ones will not suffer that handicap. These guys will be stronger than men, but they have yet to feel the might of a Slayer!
"We will go save the men of this land… the Riders of Rohan… so that we might have our wicked way with them once the slaying gets us all sexed up. For those of you who do not ride stick, you will probably have to get your fun on with your fellow Slayers. Reports indicate that this world is not big on the same sex pairings.
"Now, onward to battle!" she shouted.
"Onward to battle!" echoed five hundred women born to battle.
"Faith!" called one of the forward scouts. "We've found the fortress! Change direction to eleven o'clock, and you'll lead the others straight to it! The column must have drifted slightly off course since our arrival."
"Faith!" yelled one of the rear guard, running up at full speed. "The enemy has been spotted on our six! They're coming up pretty fast! How far to this fortress?"
When their general looked to the forward scout, she estimated, "It's about another two hours away at this pace. Less if we run for it."
"Alright, we need about fifty volunteers for a delaying party. Use your bows to ambush the front lines. Fire off about three for four volleys, then fall back and set up another ambush. You will need to buy us enough time to get set up inside. We'll most likely have to deal with overprotective males, since this place probably has never heard of anything even resembling women's lib."
"My unit is ready to delay the enemy, Faith," called out one of the captains, a Slayer named Cynthia. Faith had twenty units in her army, each made up of twenty five Slayers – one of which was the captain. There were only nineteen captains, since Faith herself commanded a unit of twenty-four other girls.
"Mine can join hers," called out Slayer Jade, another captain.
"Great! Captains Jade and Cynthia, take your girls to the end of the line. Make sure everyone dumps their field pack on one of the spare wagons, and takes several extra quivers of arrows. And ladies, make each of those arrows count. You should be able to eliminate at least a tenth of the enemy before they reach the fortress!"
"Five by five!" the volunteer units yelled back.
"The rest of you maggots, start running! Keep it to the best speed the wagons can make. Move it!"
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all raced to the wall when the sentries sounded their horns. Everyone had been surprised when a company of elven archers had arrived to bolster their numbers, but now it appeared that a second force was coming to join them. The warriors looked to be shorter than men or elves, but ran far too fast to be dwarves despite the axes they all seemed to carry.
So, who were they?
"Look, an advance party is coming on ahead of the rest!" spotted Legolas. Indeed, a smaller group of just five ran on ahead to the main gates. Whoever or whatever they were, they moved like the wind.
"Quick! To the gates!" ordered Aragorn. The triad of trouble reached the gates just in time to hear the new arrivals hail the fortress. He didn't catch the words, but the ranger could tell one thing. "That's a woman's voice!" he exclaimed.
"But what would a woman be doing with a party of soldiers?" wondered Legolas. "All of those who came forward were wearing armor and bearing weapons of war."
"Who demands entrance into Helm's Deep?" shouted down the gatekeeper.
"Yo! Whoever's behind the stone wall! I am Slayer Faith. I and my army have been sent by the Powers… I think you know them as the Valar? We are here to fight the forces of Sour Ron…"
"That's Sauron!" hissed one of her companions, another female.
"Right, like I said, we've come to fight the forces of Sauron!" continued the woman calling herself Faith.
"How do we know you are our allies? What is your county and king?" demanded the gatekeeper.
"Listen here, pal!" The woman was growing short tempered. "According to the guys who asked us to come, you need our help. Open the god damned door or we're going home!"
"I think I'm in love!" growled Gimli. "She sounds like a dwarf!"
"Open the door man!" ordered Aragorn.
"But Lord Aragorn…"
"He said to open the door!" yelled Faith. "My soldiers need to set up their positions before the big ugly guys get here! I've got to units delaying them, but they'll be here by sunset. How in the hell can we protect the once and future king if we cannot even see him?"
"Faith, the once and future king was king Arthur," commented one of her soldiers, a third female voice.
"You know I'm talking about ranger-boy! Who cares what they call him? Our job is to make sure he doesn't become a pincushion! Open the damned door!"
"You heard the lady!" added Aragorn. "Open the gates!"
With a sigh, the Rohirrim gatekeeper instructed his men to unbar the main gates. By the time they swung open, the bulk of the new troops had approached the ramp. The woman, Faith, led her advanced party inside, glancing around until she spotted an elf and a dwarf. Recognizing who just had to be Legolas and Gimli, she faced the man she guessed had to be Aragorn.
"So, were can my girls park our wagons, Lord Aragorn?" she asked.
"Girls? How many of your soldiers are women?" countered the ranger.
"All five hundred of my warriors are women," she replied. "Lucky for you men, since each one of us are worth at least five of you in battle." When the riders of Rohan frowned, she gave out a wicked grin. "You have men, elves, and even a dwarf ready to defend this place. Now, you have Slayers to carry your sorry asses!"
"What might a slayer be, lass?" wondered Gimli.
"Slayers are warriors born, Chosen by the Valar to fight the forces of evil. We are winning that battle on our world, and the Valar asked us to come lend you a hand with your own war," lectured Faith.
"We don't need women to fight our battles for us!" snapped one of the Rohirrim.
"Oh lord, here we go," sighed one of the other girls.
Moving faster than even an elf could manage at the peak of performance, Faith grabbed the offensive blonde man by the throat. Using just that one hand, she effortlessly lifted the large man off the ground and held him in the air. "I suggest that you all those that attitude." Her voice was like ice. "Most of my girls are less tolerant than I am." With barely any effort on her part, she tossed her captive about twenty feet away – still using only one arm.
The men around them began to back away, whispering fearfully.
"My lady, you and your warriors may select your own positions upon the wall. I will lead your wagons to a location where they can be safely stowed, so as to avoid impairing our defense of the Deep." Aragorn began to walk towards the inner fortress, and Faith nodded to the drivers when they looked to her for permission.
"Gatekeeper, keep a look out for our rear guard. There should be another fifty soldiers no more than an hour behind us. I would advise you to give them less trouble than you gave me. Those girls have been killing Uruk-Hai, so they're bloodlust will be closer to the surface. Don't piss them off!"
"No, my lady," he humbly agreed. Like the others, he was in awe of her display of strength.
While her girls were setting up their positions – and forcing some of the Rohirrim to reposition themselves – Faith went with Aragorn to meet the local leaders. In the so-called war room, she found the elf Legolas, the dwarf Gimli, several Rohirrim advisors, a blonde female, and the man with the crown who led them. These were the leaders, both of war and of the people.
"Greetings, Théoden king!" called Aragorn. "I bring you the leader of our newest allies, Slayer Faith."
"A woman?" scoffed one of the war-captains. "What kind of name is 'Slayer' for a woman?"
"Go mount your horse, little man," snapped Faith. "My name is Faith. Slayer is both a title and a description of what I am. Once upon a time, I would have been called Faith the Slayer, as there was only one Chosen One. A friend of mine changed all that, so now all who can be Chosen, are. With so many warriors on my world, the Valar asked us to send some of our forces to aid in your struggle against Sauron. As I understand it, the Valar have a bit more authority than any of you, so get off my back! Me and my girls are here to fight!"
"Our new allies are women?" asked the blonde, very eager to have this confirmed. "Truly? The women of your land are warriors, like the shield maidens of old?"
"The armies of my world have both men and women soldiers. Well, most of the nations do. A few still keep their women confined to the home. But my girls are special. We are Chosen warriors, and we have strength beyond even the strongest of men. Make that, greater than five of strongest men. Such girls are the Slayers."
"My king, this is nonsense!" scoffed the same war-captain. Before he could say more, Faith rushed up and punched him – in the center of a steel breastplate – and knocked him to the other side of the room. There was a fist shaped dent in his armor, with not even a bruise on Faith's knuckles.
"I'm getting sick and tired of this 'boys' club' attitude you people seem to share," rumbled the Slayer. "I am a warrior, and will be treated as such. I've killed worse monsters than you could even imagine, and I refuse to take any more shit from any of you. Now, Théoden, let me tell you what my girls will be doing to defend your heap of rock here.
"We are primarily hand-to-hand fighters. We use our speed and strength to overwhelm our enemies. Now, my rear guard – who should be passing through the gates any time now – got a good look at the enemy force. They were several tens of thousands strong, all those new Uruk-Hai of Saruman's. With any luck, my people should have eliminated one of every ten on the way over.
"When they first approach the walls, we will be using our bows." From a sheath on her back, Faith pulled out her compound bow. The pulley wheels amazed and confused the primitives. These bows are specially designed to utilize the strength we possess, so they will have a range half again to double that of the elven longbows. Should the enemy get close enough to storm the walls, then my people will switch to their scythes." Faith put her bow away, and pulled out her scythe.
"There are enchantments on that axe," muttered the elf. "Powerful magics," he muttered.
"You should see the original weapon. Mine's only a copy. The magics forged into this weapon are designed to boost a Slayer's natural abilities, making us stronger and faster then what is normal for us. It is also a perfect weapon for our fighting style, as a longbow is for an elf, or an axe is for a dwarf.
"Anyway, once they try to storm the walls, we draw our scythes and go invade their side," smirked Faith.
"Your people will attack after they breach our defenses?" wondered Théoden king. "I must wonder about your sanity."
"Wouldn't be the first one," she replied. "Now, I must see to my girls. Try and stay out of their way… as a general rule, Slayers don't take orders very well. In fact, we Slayers only listen to people who have earned our respect. The Valar had good things to say about you, the elf, dwarf, and ranger, plus another pair of Rohirrim named Éomer and Éowyn. Other than those few, we really don't know much about you people."
"I was mentioned?" demanded the blonde. "The Valar mentioned me as a battle leader?"
"You're Éowyn?" asked Faith. "They mentioned you specifically. In fact, I have something for you, which they instructed my people to gift you with. Come, walk me to where our wagons have been stored, and I shall retrieve it for you, Lady Éowyn."
And without even looking at any of the men in the room, Faith led the princess of the horse lords towards a new destiny – one never before conceived of on Middle Earth.
"Where is this gift you promised?" asked Éowyn. Faith had been looking in each of the wagons for about two minutes, and the shield maiden was growing impatient. "If you had been a man, I would suspect you of luring me away from my family for vulgar reasons."
"You're cute and all that, blondie, but I've gotten over my lusting for petite blondes. Still, it never hurts to check…" with her trademark wicked grin, Faith snaked a hand behind Éowyn's neck and pulled her head in for a deep kiss. "Nice, but no spark," she then rated the kiss. "We could have fun in a bed, but there is no future for us together. Sorry." She then ducked into the next wagon. "Ah! I found it!"
What she had found was a full field kit, like each of the Slayers had carried into Middle Earth. After that, she pulled out a smaller bundle, which looked to contain clothing, armor, and a great deal of weaponry. At the top of the bundle was a scythe replica.
"This is my… gift?" asked Éowyn.
"This and the kiss," Faith smirked. "If you feed me, you may even get another. Seriously, however, the gift is actually a choice. You can stay in the life you have now, or you can choose for something more. If you desire, you can become one of us – become a Slayer. According to the Valar, you are worthy of being Called. Because the Slayers are not native to your world, you get the option of deciding whether or not you wish to acknowledge your Calling – something no other Slayer has ever had before."
"If I were to become one of the Chosen… a Slayer like you… how would I do that?" There were stars in her eyes, as her mind dreamed of the glory of combat. It has been her life-long dream to become a shield maiden, like Rohirrim women of old, and now an even greater possibility was being handed to her. "I want… I need… to become a warrior like you."
"Making the choice is simple," answered Faith. "If you chose the Calling, merely draw your scythe. If not…" Faith didn't even get to finish, for Éowyn practically jumped on the pack in her effort to grab her new weapon. As her fingers touched it, both she and it were surrounded by a golden white glow. That glow was absorbed into the blonde woman, and she could feel new strength and power flow into her body. "Welcome to the club, my sister," the dark Slayer chuckled softly.
"I feel… different," understated Éowyn. "I like it."
"Yup, there's nothing like being a Slayer," she agreed. "Now that you are one of us, there are a few things you need to know:
One: Slayers have an instinctual ability to learn and master all forms of combat. This includes just about any weapon you can lay your hands on. You will also learn to anticipate blows in unarmed combat.
Two: We have a great deal of power. With the Calling comes an increase in speed, strength, agility, and coordination. We also gain an incredibly fast capacity for the healing of nearly any injury.
Three: You will now have a new sense, in addition to sight, hearing, and the like. This one will tell you when evil draws near. It can also tell you if magic is being used, and perhaps even tell you who and where it originates – depending on how acute this sense is in you.
Four: A Slayer craves to fight. It is a part of what we are, and if the urge is not satisfied you will become unsettled and violent. Be careful that you do not let this craving control you. I let that happen once, and it led me to kill an innocent man. As a rule, Slayers do not enjoy killing humans, so try and avoid it if you can.
Five: All of these wonderful enhancements need to be fueled, much like a fire. Our fires burn brighter and hotter than those of normal people, so we need more wood to keep burning. Basically, this means a Slayer's got to eat. Don't be afraid to fill your belly, and to do so frequently.
Six: Fighting will have consequences on our kind. This is my favorite part of the whole package, and is actually similar to number five. Slaying makes us hungry, but for more than just food. As I like to put it, we get hungry and horny."
"We grow horns?" gasped Éowyn.
"What? Oh, no! No horns! Where I come from, the term horny is another way of saying… amorous." Éowyn blushed. "Not to worry, it is not an uncontrollable need. However, if you have a man – or woman, if you go that way – then you will feel the need to retire to a bed after a good fight. Also, you can just do it for yourself."
"I don't understand. How would I…" Faith glanced around quickly, then leaned over and whispered into her ear for several minutes. Apparently, noble women of this world had several severe gaps in their education. That kind of thing happens when your women folk become just a bit too sheltered. By the time Faith's class on self-love was over, Éowyn's face was as red as puddle of fresh blood.
"Trust me, you will figure it out later," assured the brunette. "Now, there is one final thing that I need to warn you about. Slayers sometimes have dreams. Of course, everybody has dreams, but sometimes ours are special dreams. We call these Slayer dreams, and they can give us warnings, messages from the Valar, or just allow us to talk to our sister Slayers. Sometimes, we even talk to a girl with long clumpy hair who paints her face with mud. Pay extra special attention to anything she says, because that's the First Slayer. She's kind of like our own personal Valar. If you see her, then you know for sure that that dream is very important."
"So, let me review what you have told me about Slayers," began Éowyn. "We can fight, use any weapon, are strong, can sense evil, actually need to fight, fighting makes us hungry and… horny, and our dreams give us messages that are important. Is that everything?"
"You got it," Faith smiled at her. "The rest is small stuff that you can figure out on your own. So, now that I've given you the low down, why don't you try on the armor included with your gift?"
"Is it armor like yours?" she asked. Now that she had taken the time to get a good look at Faith's armor, Éowyn realized that it offered only partial protection while revealing a large amount of skin normally not shown by ladies of high station.
"I think yours is a bit more conservative," she laughed, "since not every Slayer is as daring as I am. Here, try it on. And lose the skirts! No one can fight in an outfit like that!"
Minutes later, Éowyn the king of Rohan's niece had been replaced by Slayer Éowyn. Her armor was quite proper for a lady of her station (except for being pants rather than skirts), while still allowing for complete freedom of movement. Strapped over that armor was a small arsenal of personal weaponry, including a compound bow, sword, scythe, a dozen throwing knives, two long knives, a razor-edged buckler shield, and a brace of wooden stakes. That completed the second package, leaving the field pack for her to carry on her back.
"Well?" asked the Rohirrim Slayer. "How do I look?"
"You look like the Slayer you have become," complimented the dark Slayer. "Come, I must join our sisters, while you must rejoin your king. Until I have the time to test your abilities, you will avoid combat. Protect the women and children for now, and after we destroy this army you will be tested and trained. Got it?"
Éowyn proved her Slayer connection by replying with a phrase she had never heard before.
"Five by five," stated the Rohirrim.
When she joined her sisters, Faith observed that the Slayers had situated themselves in small groups all along the wall. This allowed them to take advantage of an ability that was only discovered after all the Slayers were called at once. When they shared a battle, like they were doing now, all the Slayers involved gained a heightened Slayer sense. It covered the area populated by Slayers, which today meant the wall around Helm's Deep. Each of the Slayers could simply sense weaknesses in the defense, and moved their forces so as to minimize said weaknesses.
Helm's Deep had a rather large weakness.
All of the Slayers could sense it. The grate where water could flow under the wall was like an open door to Slayer senses. When she went to look at the grate, Faith immediately saw why. A sufficient explosive charge placed in that grate would blow a rather large doorway open for their enemies. Middle Earth did not use explosives, but their enemy was a wizard.
Who better to invent gunpowder than a wizard?
This was so not good!
"You and you!" she yelled to the two nearest Slayers. "I want you to watch this grate very carefully. It's wigging out my Slayer-sense. Something tells me that the enemy will try and use it somehow. If they do, come and get me immediately. Don't interfere unless it looks like their plan will cause immediate damage."
"Alright," stated the first of her selected volunteers. "Now that you mention it, it is starting to creep me out as well."
"Stay alert, girls." Faith gave them a deadly serious glare. "This could be a critical point for this battle. If I am right, you will have a key role in the outcome today."
"What if you're wrong?" asked the second volunteer.
"If I am wrong, then the two of you will get to take point in the next battle – assuming you both survive."
"YES!" roared the duo. Slayers loved to be on the front lines. There was more chance to slay.