Chapter Four: The Battle of Hyrule Castle
Fifty thousand of the Dark Lord's finest troops closed in on the crown jewel of Hyrule Kingdom, eager to infect its light with their filth and darkness. A great panic had swept through the city at the appearance of this vast army of terrible monsters, and civilians were screaming and clamoring their way towards the secret entrances to the vast catacombs that ran beneath the city. Even a large number of soldiers looked to be mere moments away from panic themselves. For years they had led rather boring but well-paid lives guarding their posts, and now, without warning, the threat of war loomed over them like a shroud of evil.
Even so, ten thousand soldiers of the Hylian crown manned the walls, standing in tightly packed ranks with crossbowmen in front and swordsmen behind them. In the marketplace, spearmen and archers clustered together, readying themselves for the likely possibility of the enemy breaking into the city. As the confused people of Hyrule readied themselves for a battle none of them had been expecting, the clopping of many hooves against stone heralded the arrival of a contingent of royal knights, led by King Harkinian himself, who was clad in gold-plated armor that dazzled all who beheld him.
Thousands of soldiers and civilians stopped and turned towards him, waiting with bated breath for anything he had to say that could offer them courage.
"My loyal subjects," the King intoned, his eyes sweeping over the crowded marketplace. "I have failed you as a king. I was warned of this threat, but I, in my arrogance born of complacency, failed to heed it in time. Our enemy comes for our sacred Power of Gold. And they will slaughter any man, woman, or child that stands between them and the Temple of Time. We must not let them have the chance. We must make our stand, and sell our lives most dearly, in service of all that is green and good in Hyrule! And know that, till my final breath, your King is with you!"
Emboldened by Harkinian's speech, soldiers cheered as they manned their battlestations with renewed determination, staring down their numerically-superior foe. Legions of Orcs and other beasts stared right back, glaring with yellow eyes like poison and sneering with jagged, broken teeth. At the head of this immense host was a horseman in black, who fearlessly ushered his horse right up to the edge of the moment, his dread visage making all who caught his hidden stare cower in fear. Harkinian dismounted and strode up to the wall to see what was going on, and he and the leader of this fell army locked eyes as the huge army came to a halt just out of bowshot.
"Who are you that would declare war upon our glorious kingdom?" Harkinian demanded.
The horseman let out an inhuman hiss that managed to carry further than it should have. "Old fool! I am the Witch-king of Angmâr, Lord of the Nine, and the greatest of all the Dark Lord Sauron's servants! We have come to claim your Golden Power in his name! Give us the relics you call the Triforce, and swear fealty to the Dark Lord, and we will leave your city and people in peace!"
"How could there ever be peace for us should our sacred triangles fall into the greedy hands of such a villain?" Harkinian retorted. "To betray our Golden Goddesses in such a way and allow such darkness to pervade this land…death would be preferable to the fate you and your master would impose on us!"
The Witch-king unleashed a hideous, piercing cry, his horse rearing as he proclaimed, "Then it is death you shall have! Prepare yourselves, for this is my hour! Die now, and curse in vain! The Golden Power will still be ours."
"You will never have it!" Harkinian shouted. "By the blood and pride of our people, your master will never lay his hands on the Triforce!"
In answer, the Witch-king turned his head towards his waiting legions, and gave the order they had been waiting for. "Begin!"
Harkinian retreated back into the town square and rejoined his waiting knights as a volley of black arrows rained down upon the defenders, who immediately answered with arrow volleys of their own. Hundreds of enemy soldiers fell beneath the deadly rain, but this did nothing to hinder them. The air became thick with whispering death as countless arrows flew back and forth between the castle walls and the army surging below it.
Observing, the Witch-king considered his options. The moat was too wide for them to get their ladders onto the walls, and too deep for them to fill in without an inevitable and costly loss of troops. And then an idea struck the Nazgûl Lord as he glanced at the drawbridge.
"Ballistae!" the Witch-king cried, pointing at the two Isengard siege ballistae that he had brought with him. "Get a rope on one of your darts and aim for that drawbridge!"
Snarling in response, the Urûk sappers readied a ballista bolt, tying a heavy rope through the ring in its end as the cord was winched back. Such weapons were mainly meant to get siege ladders onto higher walls that normal ladders couldn't reach, and had served them well when they assailed Helm's Deep and eliminated King Théoden. As the sappers painstakingly turned the ballista towards the drawbridge, a Troll approached at the Nazgûl Lord's behest, waiting for the moment to act.
Finally the Witch-king gave the signal with a wave of his gauntleted hand, and the sappers hit the lever. With a resounding twang, the ballista bolt sailed past the front line of Orcs and smashed into the very center of the drawbridge. A ripple of fear and uncertainty rose up in the ranks of the Hylian army at this, for there were still civilians being evacuated. The sight of the ballista bolt penetrating the drawbridge threatened to send the remaining civilians into utter panic.
Realizing this, Harkinian drew his sword. "Spread out, men! Spread out! We must give the women and children time to escape!"
Suddenly the drawbridge began to groan in earnest as the head of the bolt hooked onto the wood as it was pulled back by the Troll, slowly straining the chains to the breaking point. As the drawbridge started to lower from the pull, Harkinian cried, "Do not cower, men! No matter what comes through that gate, you must stand your ground!"
And then, with a sharp snap, the chains broke, and the drawbridge fell down, the Troll stumbling with it as the drawbridge gave way, falling into place over the moat. The soldiers within raised their shining Hylian shields, turning them to meet the inevitable attack. Archers nocked arrows, and spearmen formed a wall of spears that stretched from one end of the town square to the other.
But what led the charge into Hyrule's capital city was not a swarm of Orcs.
It was a group of armored Attack Trolls.
Men quailed and screamed as the armored beasts fell upon them mercilessly, swinging and smashing with their massive hammers. Horses blanched and swerved away, heedless of the commands of their riders. But Harkinian dared not falter.
"Archers!" he commanded. "LOOSE!"
The Trolls stopped in their tracks as they were pelted by a hail of fine arrows, mostly blocked by their armor but turning their arms and legs into pincushions. The leading Trolls stumbled back, while the Trolls behind them, which had not received the brunt of the volley, pushed past them and raised their hammers high. Behind the Attack Trolls came a regiment of bronze-armored Easterlings, their scale-like armor and crested helmets making them look like a swarm of attacking dragons as they charged.
As the Trolls recovered and the Easterlings advanced, the braver soldiers stood their ground and formed a shield wall to receive the charge.
Finally the two sides met to the sounds of ringing steel and sundered flesh as the defenders of Hyrule faced the legions of Mordor in close quarter combat. One Attack Troll headed right for Harkinian, who bravely spurred his horse onwards, rushing past its falling hammer as he slashed his sword against the beast's throat. Gurgling feebly, the Troll fell backward, bumping into another Troll in the process and knocking it over, where it fell on top of several Easterlings, crushing them while at the same time being undone by their halberds. However, the other Trolls were proving to be fearsome opponents. Their sheer size lent them incredible reach with their hammers, and one could only get close enough to wound one through sheer luck or distraction.
With Harkinian having entered the fray, his knights sallied forth, intent on protecting their king. As the knights began carving their way through the Easterling ranks, the main body of the Orc army began to pour in, led by a row of Uruk-hai brandishing their long pikes. Even as the crossbowmen still on the wall continually fired into the massive horde of Orcs, the swordsmen began to abandon the wall to join the fight below in the city streets.
The Witch-king smirked beneath his hood as the sounds of battle reached him. This was the same strategy he had used in the Siege of Gondor, an Attack Troll-Easterling combo meant to break apart enemy formations and allow the superior numbers of orcs to take advantage of the disarray. It had been a swift and killing blow to the defenders of Minas Tirith, and the Witch-king found himself remembering fondly how he had personally ended the life of that meddlesome fool Gandalf the Grey. With the Lord of Minas Morgûl at his full strength, the Wizard was simply no match for him.
Shoving these thoughts aside, the Witch-king continued to observe as the battle within the city slowly began to turn in Mordor's favor.
Inside, the vastly superior numbers of the Orcs and Easterlings was beginning to pay dividends, and in several places they succeeded in breaking through the tightly packed Hylian ranks, scattering the surviving soldiers and drawing more and more into the confusing melee that raged in every street. Some archers had barricaded themselves in houses and were now firing from the windows and roofs into the streets, where Orcs were swarming about trying to break in. To their great surprise and mounting fear, several Goblins began scuttling up the walls of the houses like a horde of cockroaches. Many were shot down point-blank, but others reached the windows and either dove inside to dispatch their prey or pulled them over their shoulders and cast them into the waiting arms of the Orcs below with surprising strength.
And then the Witch-king made another play to serve as a reminder of their enemy's folly. Catapults were drawn back as worker Trolls lifted spiked, boulder-sized canisters into the baskets. Right before firing, Orcs bearing torches lit fuses on the devices and scuttled back as the catapults fired, their cargo sailing over the castle walls. Some landed in the streets, while others smashed into houses. In all cases the effect was immediate; the capital of Hyrule was rocked by a half-dozen blasts that sent rubble flying in every direction or reduced any Hylian, Orc or Easterling caught in the blast to a gruesome paste.
"Bombs!" a soldier cried somewhere. "They have bombs!"
After this first salvo, the catapults began sending boulders set alight with pitch over the wall, setting the city ablaze. Harkinian looked up from the battle all around at his golden city burning to ashes before his very eyes. It was something right out of his very worst nightmares.
It awoke a burning rage within him, and the King gave a great shout as he charged his horse into the thick of the fray, his surviving knights dutifully following behind as he brought his broadsword down upon the head of an Orc that was just about to gut a young soldier lying wounded at its feet. With another swing, an Easterling's head went flying, the owner's body collapsing like a sack of grain.
So great was the ferocity of Harkinian the First that the Orcs began to regard him with terror, and the sight of this inspired new courage within the Hylian soldiers. "The King! The King! Rally to the King!"
The fierce fighting had ultimately done its part. Soon the last of the women and children had made it into the catacombs, and the Hylians began to push back against the unending tide of Orcs and Easterlings. Crossbowmen fired at the surviving Attack Trolls, their bolts easily penetrating the monsters' armor and finally slaying the last of them. But Orcs innumerable remained yet, and their onslaught was without respite. They hacked and slashed at the Hylian soldiers with their crude scimitars, and ripped at them with their sharp claws and broken teeth.
But the Hylians did not waver, for their king was among them, and his wrath was too great for any minion of Mordor to withstand. With each stroke of his great broadsword, an enemy fell. His knights scattered any groups that tried to form defensive knots, and the lines between defender and attacker continued to blur until the entire city was engulfed in a furious, confusing melee. It wasn't much longer, however, before the crossbowmen were all spent, drawing their own swords to join the fight down below. Though the fighting was brutal and vicious, the Hylians were holding firm due to the enemy being forced into a bottleneck, with only one way into the city, and thus unable to take full advantage of their superior numbers.
The Witch-king regarded this with growing annoyance. The enemy was fighting harder than he had initially expected. Perhaps he should have brought more of his troops. However, it mattered little. None but the Dark Lord himself could boast of greater power than the Witch-king of Angmâr, and it was time he proved that to these fools. Drawing his longsword, the Witch-king let loose a piercing cry before he and a guard detail of Warg-riders rode past the legions of Orcs and other minions still pouring into the city, and the terror that went before the Nazgûl Lord was great indeed. In he rode, his dread visage sapping the fighting spirit and courage of all who looked upon the greatest of Sauron's Ringwraiths.
All but one.
Riding forth to challenge the Lord of the Nazgûl was none other than Harkinian himself, his shining armor of gold contrasting sharply with the obsidian rags and silver armor of the Witch-king. His knights rode forth to challenge the Warg-riders as the two leaders stared each other down.
"You are a fool to challenge me thus, oh great King of Hyrule," the Witch-king hissed in his fell voice. "I have cast down greater beings than thee, and I can be felled by no man."
"We shall see, you foul shade," Harkinian boasted. "For the glory of Hyrule!"
Their blades met in a shower of sparks as the living king and the undead king dueled fiercely. Soldiers on both sides cheered them on even as they continued to battle desperately against one another. Both were highly-skilled, kingly in their might, and for several desperate minutes they were at an impasse, equally matched.
It was at this last that Zelda, accompanied by a pair of Royal Guards, warily made their way into the town square, heading for the catacombs. Zelda looked towards the battle and saw her father in the thick of it, fighting against a black-clad horseman with no face exuding an aura of malice and dread. She longed to call out to him, but she knew she had to leave, or this battle would be all for naught.
And then it happened.
The Witch-king, growing tired of this fight, intentionally dropped his guard. Seeing an opportunity, Harkinian drove his royal blade all the way through where the Black Rider's heart had once beaten. But though he screeched in pain, the Witch-king remained seated on his wicked steed, hissing as Harkinian gripped his sword-arm in pain as his blade disintegrated, the hilt clattering uselessly to the ground. His laugh was high and cold as the Witch-king raised his sword high and brought it down upon the skull of the King of Hyrule. Zelda screamed bloody murder as her father lurched in his saddle, and finally toppled to the ground below.
At Harkinian's fall, a cry of despair rose up in the Hylian ranks. "The King is dead! Oh peril and woe, our King is dead!"
"NO! FATHER!" Zelda cried, tears flowing down her eyes.
And then that hooded gaze fell upon her, and Zelda found herself rooted in place as she stared into that black pit that served as the Witch-king's face. Pointing at her, the Witch-king hissed, "Seize her! She is the heir to the throne of Hyrule! She must not live!"
Immediately, Orcs and other minions began trying to force their way past the battle in order to reach her, but the sight of their Princess gave the Hylians new determination.
"Defend the Princess! Defend Zelda!"
The rallying cry was taken up by countless soldiers as they did everything in their power to form a wall between the servants of Sauron and Princess Zelda. "Come, Princess, we must leave!" Captain Viscen of the Royal Guard cried, taking Zelda by her hand and snapping her out of her stupor. "Hurry, men!"
But the Witch-king would not be denied. Shrieking, he raised his sword, and a torrent of flames ran down the blade as his dark sorcery took hold. Though he, like all Ringwraiths, feared the fires of Anor, the flames of Udûn brought him strength. Unleashing another terrible wail, he charged right into the cluster of Hylian soldiers. The Nazgûl Lord rent armor and shattered blades with sadistic ease, carving a bloody swath of destruction through the Hylians in his determined rush to reach the fleeing Zelda.
And then a single horn-blast reached their ears, rising up over the din of battle, and for a moment all was still. Even the Witch-king had halted, looking over his shoulder towards the fallen gate as his forces still outside turned towards the east, bracing for an attack.
"A Goron-horn!" soldiers cried. "The Gorons are here!"
The Witch-king then realized that enemy reinforcements had arrived. Snarling, he turned his attention back towards Zelda…
…only to realize she was no longer there.
The Princess of Hyrule had escaped him.
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Hyrule Castle Dungeons…
Ganondorf grumbled to himself as he whiled away the hours in his miserable cell, mulling over the words that had been spoken to him in his dreams.
Was it all true? Was he really Demise reincarnated? And if he took up his predecessor's mantle of the Demon King, was he really destined to be defeated again and again by a boy in green?
"My my, it looks like someone here is deep in thought, Koume…"
"I wonder what he's thinking about, Kotake, hee hee hee…"
Ganondorf's head shot up, and floating on their brooms right inside his cell were none other than the Twinrova Sisters, regarding him with their huge eyes. Ganondorf's eyes narrowed. "About time you old hags showed up," he growled bitterly.
"Tut tut, dear, is that any way to speak to your rescuers?" Koume cackled as she zapped Ganondorf's manacles with a thin beam of superheated flame.
Rubbing his raw wrists, Ganondorf shakily stood, having been unable to do so for months, maybe years. "What took you so long?" Ganondorf demanded.
"Honestly, boy, don't you remember anything we tell you?" Kotake complained with a roll of her eyes. "We said we could not mount a rescue until our new enemy laid siege to Hyrule Castle, thus drawing away anyone who might be inclined to stop us."
"…So Hyrule Castle is under attack," Ganondorf remarked thoughtfully. "Hmph…it serves them right for the treatment they have visited upon myself and my people. Come; let us leave these stinking dungeons. There is much work to be done."
The two witches shared a glance as they cackled wickedly before they teleported out of the dungeons, taking Ganondorf with them.
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Tens of thousands of Orcs and other beasts turned towards Death Mountain as a low rumbling noise followed after the horn blast. Readying themselves for attack, the servants of Sauron waited for their newest enemy to arrive. Finally the rumbling stopped, and about a minute later, a single figure on horseback emerged over the hill. The Orcs laughed and jeered at this; he was nothing more than a boy atop a small pony, hardly big enough to even fill a stew-pot.
But then their laughter slowly died down as more figures rose up around him. They were man-sized, but each was incredibly muscled, with long arms and short legs. Their eyes were black and beady, and their lips large, and their backs much like the rocks they ate.
Link silently looked upon the huge army still swarming outside the castle as Darunia, clad in the battle armor of his people, strode up beside him. Link's eyes narrowed, his icy gaze taking in the sight of Castle Town in flames. Seeing the anger in Link's eyes, Darunia smirked, "Keep your head cool, kid. Looks to me like your friends have been holding out pretty well so far." He pounded his fist into his palm. "Now let's get down there and give 'em a breather, whaddaya say, kid?"
In response, Link drew his sword, ready to bathe it in the blood of these evil creatures that sought to lay Hyrule to ruin. Epona whickered at the motion. Darunia grinned. "Strong, silent type. I like that!"
The new Sage of Fire turned towards his waiting people, his heart swelling with pride at the fire in their eyes. "My brothers, today is a day that will be long remembered by Gorons and Hylians alike! All I ask is, if we must give these bastards our lives, WE GIVE THEM HELL BEFORE WE DO!"
He turned towards their waiting enemy and raised a fist. "Now fly! Fly to Hyrule! RIP OUR ENEMIES ASUNDER!"
With that, the Goron army as one all curled up into balls and began rolling towards the waiting armies of Mordor, picking up speed as they descended the hill. At their head rode Link, who unleashed a battle cry that was drowned out by the rumbling of the Goron army's advance. Orc and Easterling spearmen gathered together, lowering their weapons to receive the coming charge, while several battalions of archers raised their bows and drew back their poisoned, filth-encrusted arrows.
The Gorons heeded none of this, their rolling bodies quickly closing the distance between themselves and their foe. Finally Gothmog, a hideously-disfigured Orc chieftain who served as the Witch-king's second-in-command, gave the order to fire, and a volley of arrows sailed towards the Goron army.
A wave of terror rippled through their ranks as their arrows bounced harmlessly off the Gorons' thick, rock-like hides, and the line of spearmen began to waver.
"Hold, you fools!" Gothmog roared. "HOLD!"
And then the two sides met with a resounding crash and the splintering of countless spears as they shattered against the Gorons' hides. The front line of enemy soldiers disappeared completely beneath the rolling bodies of the Gorons, crushed by their heavy bulk. Onward they came, penetrating deep into the main body of Sauron's army, Orc and man alike crushed to death in droves, until they were pressed about from all sides.
Darunia was the first to unroll, flames gathering around him as he bellowed, "Ancient powers of my fist, DESTROY THEM!"
He landed a mighty punch against a nearby Orc, sending it and its nearest compatriots sprawling from a burst of fire magic. Darunia was acclimating well to his new Sage powers. More and more Gorons unrolled, punching every enemy in sight with enough strength to crush bones and shatter skulls. Though the Gorons numbered only a thousand, they had taken down five times that number in the initial charge alone.
Link rode through the Orc host, slicing left and right, each time taking down a foe with a spray of black blood. Gothmog saw him coming and roared as he charged with his huge scimitar held high. It was an ill-advised move, for without even sparing him more than a passing glance, Link blocked his swing and brought his sword around to cleave the Orc-chieftain's ugly head from his shoulders.
Suddenly Epona stopped cold, jolting Link. He looked up to see a massive armored beast bearing down on him with a raging bellow, swinging a mighty hammer. Link instantly leapt off his horse and rolled to his feet as he cried, "Epona, get out of here! Go to Lon Lon Ranch!"
The horse was smart enough to know what she had been ordered to do, and promptly fled the battlefield towards the ranch she had once called home. With his horse's safety assured, Link turned his attention towards the approaching Attack Troll. With amazing skill, he rolled under the monster's legs as it smashed its hammer down upon where he once stood, and before it could turn around, he climbed up its scaly back. The Troll, in its stupidity, did not realize what has happening until it was too late, as Link jumped over its head and drove his sword into its skull, its fine make allowing it to easily push through the Troll's thick skull and armor. Link backflipped off its face and landed gracefully on the ground as the Troll lurched backward and fell with a groan.
Orcs descended upon him, thinking him to be easy prey, but his age belied his incredible skill, for the blood of the Hero's legacy flowed through his veins, and no single foe could ever stand against him. Orc, Goblin, Urûk, Easterling, and Haradrim alike fell beneath his blade, and though he was but a boy, he fought like one of the feared Elf-lords of old in Middle-earth. Three Easterlings and several Urûks surrounded him on all sides, and to this, Link responded with a fearsome spin attack that sent all of them flying back, dead.
All around him, the Gorons were quickly beginning to turn the tide with their superior strength and sheer ferocity, for though friendly by nature, when roused to anger the people of Death Mountain were unstoppable. Hundreds, thousands of Orcs and evil men fell uselessly before their might, and though the superior numbers of the enemy resulted in some Gorons being felled, it wasn't enough. The Witch-king was losing too many troops too fast. What was more, the arrival of the Gorons had emboldened the defending Hylians, and they rallied again, pushing back against the Orc host.
With the Gorons on one side and the Hylians on the other, the battle had well and truly turned against the Witch-king's forces. He had no other choice. With another fell, hate-filled cry, the Lord of the Nazgûl ordered the retreat.
His surviving soldiers did not need to be told twice; they turned on their heels and fled en masse back the way they came, the surviving Gorons harassing them for many miles until they finally reached the relative safety of the Gerudo Valley. After a long, blood-filled day, the forces of Hyrule had won their first battle in their war with Sauron.
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I wrote this all in about two or three hours. I admit, I had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Next time, while Hyrule takes time to grieve, the Witch-king recoups his losses, and Ganondorf returns with Twinrova to the Spirit Temple just in time to find a surprise visitor…