DISCLAIMER: all publicly recognizable characters are owned by their respective authors and I do not take credit for their creation and I make no $$$ off of the story.
All characters recognized from Bethesda's The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, JRR Tolkien's "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings" books, Peter Jackson's filmography, TURN: Washington's Spies (Akinbode), Guillermo del Toro's The Strain, Once Upon a Time (or anything remotely DISNEY), Dracula: Untold (Mirena, and certain quotes), The Count of Monte Cristo (Za'Tara name and joke only.) and Dragonheart.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend and largest inspiration for writing this story, you know her as Arianna Shade-Seer, I know her as Kallysta Lopez, happy belated birthday!
WARNING!: This chapter contains very graphic battle and duel sequences, that may not be suitable for younger readers, reader caution is advised.
Chapter 8: Battle for Windhelm Part 2; The Valor of Elves and Pride of Noldor
"Into the fray!" shouted Elrohir as he and his twin brother charged to meet the Thalmor and the Orcs head on.
The loud clash of metal and metal rang in the air as the Noldor formed their fighting groups.
They fought in synch with one another. When an Elf would strike a blow against an Orc another would parry and then they'd both strike. The Elves worked in unison and cut down many of the Orcs.
The Orcs having never seen such skill in battle before both admired and despised these newcomers. Their heavy armor was next to useless in regard to the Elven blades. The slight curvature in the blades and perfect balance equaled swift Death.
But numbers helped in this battle. And the Elves didn't have those numbers. The Thalmor Heavy Guard marched forward. Their heavy armor and deadly weapons used efficiently as the Noldor fought valiantly against the once again retreating Orcs.
The black blood of the Orcs stained the ground. The Orsimer distant relatives of the Elves in Skyrim looked back in fear of the Noldor. Brute strength and numbers did little in this fight. Only tactics and skill would prevail.
The Heavy Guard were twenty-three of Aros's own bodyguard ferocious and seasoned fighters that adapted quickly. They watched the Orcs fight the Elves and learned the weaknesses in their movements.
Their commander, a High Elf named Achasson with shiny white hair and a hideous scar crossing his face, ordered the Orcs to rally and ready a charge with the Heavy Guard.
"Thalmor! Altmer! Orsimer! Today we face a new enemy! Perhaps they are a distant relative of us! For they surely have Elvish blood in their veins. But kin or no; we kill them! They are a new enemy but they are a new enemy to conquer!" Achasson shouted.
The Orcs cheered and the Heavy Guard beat their shields with their weapons. Loud clanging filling the air.
"Steel yourselves! I fight with you! My men fight with you! You may be Orcs but look upon each of you and I see myself! You're kin, we serve the Dominion. We bleed together! We must die together if necessary, but we'll take all of them with us!"
Chants of "Achasson" filled the air.
Their Noldor opponents gave a speech of their own, the twin brothers alternating who said what;
"Nín mellonath ley dagro dír maeth dan rem coth./ My friends we do battle today to fight against a numerous enemy." Elladan began.
"Maeth cost almín garn./To Fight a quarrel that is not our own." Elrohir continued.
"Dan thang anas mín garn hannas./ Against oppression beyond our own understanding."
"Gobbenas linnathon o sen Dagor./ Histories shall sing about this battle."
"O mín callon carthon./ About our heroic deeds."
"O Noldorin ai maetho ah Naugrim ar' Adan dan Orch, Fornadanin, ar' Edhil arradon./ About the Noldor Elves who fought alongside Dwarf and Man against the Orc, Northmen, and Elves without their path."
"A or pân an rakka sina palurin en'dan lumbule vee'Morgoth nasta Arda!/And above all to rid this world of the Shadow as Melkor was cast from Arda!"
As their speech finished, their soldiers inspired and blades ready. The Noldor Twins readied their swords as Achasson gave the order for his force to attack.
Elladan and Elrohir dismounted their steeds and drew their swords. They turned to each other and embraced as brothers do. Looking down and pressing their foreheads together, uttering an Elven prayer.
They turned to the enemy and raised their weapons. Simultaneously shouting; "Meet them with Elven Blade!"
The two brothers charged with their warriors following close behind.
The clash of metal on metal rang out through the battle, drawing the attention of the Northmen that had landed on the Docks.
They paid the Elves no mind. They had other worries as they placed ladders and grappling hooks at the walls ramparts. The Northmen began to ascend the walls by the dozens as Halfdan the Young and Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye commanded the wall assault as their older brothers Ivar and Ubba attempted to breach the main gate.
Their middle brother Hvitserk however, had another idea. The Docks had a lesser gate into Windhelm. One that axes and fire could exploit...
Elladan and Elrohir were drenched with Orc blood as their soldiers fought and died bravely.
Elves that they had known from childhood. Dying in a land not their own, but dying for a cause across all lands. To destroy Evil. Wherever it lies, come what may.
The Elf Twins carved and bloodied Orc and Thalmor alike, all the while wondering if they had made the right choice. So many of their kinsmen had lain down their lives, for their thirst of vengeance. For their idea of a pure world. For them as the sons of Elrond Half-Elven.
At least half of the Elves had fallen and the Heavy Guard had not even stepped into battle.
The Orcish clan fighting alongside the Thalmor had suffered their own share of heavy losses. But they did not dare lose heart with Achasson so nearby. Death would not be only a certainty but a blessing after he was done with a deserter.
Achasson gave a hand signal and began to march forward, slowly drawing his sword. His cape and hair flowing in the wind. Eleven Heavy Guards on either side of him.
He gave the Orcs and the Thalmor Soldiers a command to form behind him.
"Keep anyone from escaping."
That was his only order.
Achasson unclipped his cape and slaughtered the Noldor Elves that attacked him. He attacked with a calm grace and swift fury. The Noldorin Armor stood no chance against his attacks.
The Noldor formed lines behind the Twins.
Elladan and Elrohir stood to fight Achasson and the twenty-two Heavy Guards.
Twelve Noldor in gold armor stood beside them six on either side. These were the Guardians of Middle-Earth, the Eldarinwë.
Achasson sheathed his blade.
"You're no match for the Heavy Guard. And you're severely outnumbered. Surrender now, and most of you will be spared. Namely the fourteen that challenge me directly, only sheep wait to die."
"We think not..." began Elrohir.
"While most people would back down to you..."
"We never learned how to surrender!" They finished in unison.
"Well, I can respect that as it is the same with me. But there can only be one winner..."
Achasson drew his blade and lashed out quicker than a blink at Elladan, only to have Elrohir move to take the blade in the right of his abdomen.
"Brother!"
Achasson withdrew the blade as Elrohir fell to the floor.
"Now it's a somewhat even fight." Achasson said with a smirk on his scarred face.
Elladan charged at Achasson. His rage consuming his thoughts as he spat curses at the Guard leader. Curses in Elvish, Dwarvish, and even the Black Speech of Mordor.
The two battled near equal in skill, but Achasson's strikes were more precise and aimed at tiring his opponent. He knew that the twins fought near unbeatable as a cooperative effort, but alone. He could kill them.
Elladan had beyond thrown caution to the wind. His brother, his Twin had more than possibly been fatally injured, he'd not stirred since he fell. And Elladan wanted vengeance no matter the cost. Achasson was evil, the Thalmor were evil.
The Heavy Guard watched in silence waiting to charge through the Noldor once Achasson had won.
Achasson twisted and taunted, his attacks drawing little blood but making Elladan's more predictable. Ducking under and dodging heavy blows tiring the Noldor Prince.
Elladan was tiring. His sword grew heavier with every strike. He knew he couldn't win, he began to lose the offensive.
Achasson began speeding up his strikes, hitting his blade to Elladan's, making the small wounds on Elladan's arms widen and bleed.
After nearly five minutes Achasson saw an opportunity and took it. Elladan attempted an overhead strike, but Achasson ducked and maneuvered to Elladan's exposed back.
The Thalmor commander punched the Noldor Prince in the face with his steel gauntlet and sword hilt.
Elladan lost his equilibrium and fell to the cold snowy ground.
Achasson kicked Elladan's blade away. And knelt beside him.
"Surrender."
"No."
Achasson kicked the Noldor to face him. He raised Elladan's head and beat it with the hilt of his sword.
"Save the prince!" The rest of the Noldor cried.
Achasson gave the Guard one command; "He will watch this!"
The Guard met the Noldor head on and dispatched them one by one. Each death unclean, gruesome and bloody. The fair Noldor Elves were mutilated and butchered worse than animals in the slaughterhouse. The Guard did not fall, not one. They toyed with the Noldor.
Elladan wept as he tried to fight, even now. His broken nose, no blade, and bloody face, he tried to fight Achasson.
"Hear them scream! And know it's because of you!"
Achasson drove his hilt into Elladan's shoulder, repeatedly, wearing his bones away.
At the main gate. Dilir Ironheart heard the cry of the Noldor and saw the bloody spectacle. His heart wrenched, in Middle-Earth most Dwarves and Elves were at odds. But he did not see things the same way.
The Dwarvern General charged the horn-blower to sound the call to aid the Elves. A horn call not heard since the Second Age.
The horn's call carried to the Boar Riders that hid in the nearby woods with Glorfindel and the Elven Cavalry.
"Your hear that lads?"
The Dwarves responded in agreement.
"Then ya all know what it means for us all righty-oh?"
A proud and loud chorus of "Aye!" sounded throughout the woods.
"Then ready your weapons! Harden your hearts. Mount the Boars. Load the ballistae! Charge! Honor the horn call! Glory to the Elves! Honor to the Dwarves!"
The Boar Riders charged and a loud war cry erupted from the woods.
Achasson ceased his torture of Elladan and rallied the Heavy Guard to combat the Cavalry.
Glorfindel saw both his commanders bloody and on the cold ground. The Silver-Haired Elf ordered his own charge, the Elven Cavalry looped behind the Heavy Guard.
Glorfindel's Retinue charged to protect Elladan and Elrohir.
However, Elladan refused help and crawled away from the Cavalry. Ordering them to save his brother if possible.
The other Rivendell Lancers formed a wedge and charged behind the Northmen's Shield-Wall.
If the battle wasn't chaos before, it sure was now.
The Heavy Guard readied themselves to break the Dwarves charge but one by one were sent flying to the ground; impaled by a ballista bolt.
Achasson growled as his soldiers were killed by creatures of such an inferior stature. He readied himself to be trampled to death.
Suddenly the Dwarves changed direction, charged at the Orcs and Thalmor that had attacked the remaining Noldor.
Achasson's feet were pulled out from under him, and the Elf landed on his face. He turned to see who had felled him, only to be met with an arrow in his neck.
The arrow had been stabbed into his neck not fired. Elladan had crawled to end his duel with the Devil. Achasson could do nothing as Elladan grabbed the Thalmor's sword.
The fair Noldor Prince had his face bloody and his left eye swelled shut. He raised Achasson's sword, with the hilt aimed at the Thalmor's face.
"May the Valar forgive me!" Elladan shouted.
Elladan drove the heavy hilt into Achasson's scarred face. Repeatedly. Achasson's skull shattered on the fifth strike. But Elladan did not stop he yelled his rage as he continuously smashed the bloody remains.
He crawled to a horse and looked at the bloody pulp, "For my fallen friends! And our Wounded Pride." Elladan whispered and spat on the dead body as he urged the horse to Glorfindel and Elrohir's body.
Meanwhile Ari had gone outside the Gate. Healing Sarthinias as Shaylar gave blood to Thraculas. With both heroes back on their feet again the Rangers found their second wind.
The Dwarves readied a charge against the broken Shield-Wall.
The Rivendell Lancers had successfully broken the Northmen's Shield-Wall. From the front it was near impenetrable, but the rear held its weakness; exposed backs.
The Dwarves and the Elven lancers had outflanked the Skûrls. Ubba was furious.
"Fall back and regroup!" Ivar shouted to the Northmen.
Skorpa and his Cavalry had already fled to regroup.
Ari charged with Samson and Xander. Her daggers in hand as they pushed the Northmen back.
At the lesser gate, Hvitserk and Halfdan placed torches and straw at the lesser gate. With readied axes and swords their men waited.
Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye ever impatient decided to begin scaling the walls. His warriors placed crude ladders and grappling hooks onto the wall as they climbed.
However, the fire drew the attention of the Windhelm Guards. They rushed to the lesser gate and reinforced the gate, they sprinted to the top of the walls. They hurled boulders and stones onto the Northmen.
They were regrettably too concerned with the gate. That the grappling hooks remained unnoticed.
Sigurd and his men waited until every ladder was full of men and the grappling hook men were at the top. Suddenly they sprung on the preoccupied Nords. Sigurd digging his twin war-axes into the closet Nordic chests.
The screams of the Nords and the shouting of the Northmen brought the attention of the Bosmer defending the Great Gate.
"Captain the guards need reinforcements!" Talim shouted.
"Keep half the colony warriors and stay here!" Agarwænor ordered as he drew the Green-Blade. "The rest of you; follow me!"
The Bosmer captain grasped his blade with both hands and led the charge to aid the Windhelm guards.
The Northmen on the wall charged to meet them.
Agarwænor sliced directly through the first Northman. The Green-Blade immediately running through the chest of another Northman.
The Bosmer followed their captain and met short-blade with war-axe.
Some Northmen pushed their Bosmer opponents off of the wall to the crushing death below.
The Bosmer fought heartily and with pride, fighting alongside their battle-hardened captain and making their warrior ancestors proud.
"Push them Back! The fire is almost through the gate!" Sigurd shouted.
Agarwænor continued his path towards the Northman in command. Cleaving any shield or skill in the way.
At the Great Gate Shaylan and his sister fought against Skorpa's infantry and dismounted cavalry. The Bosmer twins fighting like they'd rehearsed it.
Shaylan looked up to see Agarwænor pushing back the Northmen on the walls. He smiled, but it turned to denial and horror as he saw the three Orc Chieftains marching with their tribe to the lesser gate.
He ran back to the gate, he couldn't risk opening it. He scaled the walls with his bare hands and short blade.
Talim pulled him up by the wrist. Without saying anything he ran to warn Agarwænor, a man as close to him as a father.
Nazdûg Metal-Beard readied his men for entering the gate, as Azgrom's men were second. Ogthrak kept his men in reserve.
The Orc leaders had grown tired of following orders that led their men to death. Instead they'd fight as their traditional way, brutal and bloody.
Hvitserk yelled for Sigurd as Agarwænor had nearly reached him, the Northmen stood as no obstacle to the Bosmer's bloodstained captain.
Sigurd didn't hear him and laughed as he killed the last guard. He barely managed to block as Agarwænor slashed at the young Northman.
Ogthrak shot an arrow to the wall...
It struck Agarwænor, but in his shoulder, only staggering him for a moment. He broke the arrow shaft and drove his head to Sigurd's before delivering a mighty kick to his chest.
Sigurd was knocked off balance, he tried, but eventually, he fell off the wall. His brothers below racing to catch him.
Directly after kicking him, Agarwænor was struck by another arrow. And he too, fell off the wall, but on the city side.
Shaylan yelled and cut through the Northmen to reach Agarwænor. He watched in horror as Sigurd and Agarwænor fell on opposite sides of the wall.
Sigurd fell onto his brothers' shields. And Agarwænor directly in front of the burning gate. The gate that Nazdûg and the other Orc Chieftains had just burst through.
Agarwænor's vision was blurred, Ogthrak's arrows were poisoned. His raised his sword and challenged the chieftains.
Nazdûg and Azgrom send their Orcs charging up the stairs to flank the Bosmer while the Northmen charged into the city to be met with the Sorcerer and his Shades
"Not so fast dearies! You have to pay the toll. Hehehehe!" the Sorcerer challenged as his girls shot at the largest Northmen and they constructed a barrier of Negative Magic behind themselves.
Shaylan cut down foe after foe in a desperate attempt to help Agarwænor.
"Even the old Elf bleeds." Nazdûg growled in his gruff voice, his vocal chords weathered from near decapitations.
"I may be old but I can still stop you."
"Haha looks at this pitiful creature lemme put 'in out o' 'is misery heeheehee." Ogthrak said as he shot Agarwænor in the abdomen.
The old captain coughed up blood as Azgrom screamed and charged him to the ground.
"Right then, let's finish 'im." Nazdûg suggested as he walked forward.
In a flash Agarwænor sped past Nazdûg and cleaved Ogthrak's bow in two.
"Why you!" Ogthrak withdrew his mace and attacked Agarwænor with it.
"Ma fadder gave me dat! Tha's a chieftain's heirloom!"
The Bosmer Captain parried but he was too weak and a blow struck him and staggered him backward. Nazdûg hit Agarwænor's back with his metal shield. Forcing the Elf to kneel.
"Time tah end this!" Ogthrak yelled.
"Last words?" Nazdûg spat.
Agarwænor with his lumped eye looked up at the wall smiling,
"You lead them now, my boy, my son..."
As a single tear descended from Agarwænor's eye, Nazdûg drove his great spear down Agarwænor's collarbone and through his body out his knee and into the ground.
Ogthrak mercilessly beat his face with the spiked mace and Azgrom stabbed wildly into his chest.
The Orcs cheered at their kill of a commanding opponent. But what they had awakened, was more terrible than any of them could have imagined for at the moment, Shaylan shook with rage and hatred. His one yellow eye burned blue flame and as if he were two different people he leapt down bellowing curses.
He landed on Nazdûg and drove his short blades into the Orc's shoulder.
Shaylan rolled to his father's body, kicking Azgrom's face, and picked up the Green-Blade. Holding it in one hand.
"The storm is coming." A voice said from Shaylan though not his voice and his lips didn't move.
Nazdûg looked up in fear as he raised his shield to defend against the Green-Blade. Shaylan repeatedly swung the blade. Suddenly the blade had driven its way from top to the center of the shield as Shaylan forced it up and kicked the shield.
The split second later Nazdûg's arm was off still clutching the now rent shield. The Orc screamed in pain then was silent.
Shaylan stabbed under Nazdûg's metal beard into his barely exposed neck. The Elf shouted and kicked Nazdûg's left leg, forcing him to kneel, Shaylan spun and decapitated Nazdûg.
All this in mere seconds. Azgrom had barely returned to his feet and charged Shaylan in Fury.
Shaylan caught the Orcs sword wrist and forced the Orc on bended knee, staring into his eyes that had gone from fury to terror.
Shaylan snapped the Orc's wrist and took his sword and stabbed it into his good hand pinning it to the ground.
Ogthrak had seen enough and ran but shouted in pain as his foot pinned to the ground, he could swear there was a misty blue arrow pinning his foot but it was gone in a blink!
He looked back to see Shaylan grabbing Nazdûg's shield but another entity right by the Elf, staring at Ogthrak. Armored similarly to the Noldor but different, an Elven crown upon his head and a scar across his right cheek, the figure the same color as the arrow.
And now he was gone too.
The Orc screamed, this time in terror as Shaylan raised Nazdûg's shield and bashed Azgrom's chest without abandon. Breaking every bone in his torso.
Azgrom growled and sniffed as his black blood stained the snow. Shaylan yelled as he stabbed the shield into the Orc's chest, separating his rib cage in half.
Ogthrak screamed and begged for mercy as Shaylan walked toward him, grabbing Ogthrak's spiked, and now cloven bow on the way.
The Orc's sickly green eyes held mortal terror as he tried to move but couldn't!
"Please spare me! I'll call off my Orcs! They'll fight with you! Please! I don't want to die!"
The remaining Orcs looked down in disgust upon their final leader. Whatever the outcome of this execution, as they knew it was no longer a duel, they'd have a new leader.
"What are you that can kill so mercilessly!?" Ogthrak pleaded. Throwing his mace to the floor.
This time both the unknown voice and Shaylan's said, "What Evil created me to be!"
And at that moment Ogthrak knew his life was over.
Shaylan's fists began to glow a blue misty aura and with both halves of the bow, spikes aimed at Ogthrak. He hammered one piece into the left side of the Orc's face then right, and alternate twice before shouting in rage and driving the pieces into the Orc's eyes. The pieces exited out the back of his head.
Shaylan heaved a heavy breath. And charged the Northmen still entering the gate. Rending flesh from bone as black and red blood stained the Green-Blade, and his face...
