A/N: Warning for violence ahead, mildly graphic.

74 - Gates Breached

Thranduil ground his teeth against the urge to spur his horse faster. They needed to keep an even pace if they wished their mounts to reach the settlement without requiring a pause. He could see his enemies before him, laying siege to Stony Bend. Three Elves were supporting the gate from above with bows, but he doubted they had many arrows left based on Sadron's report of the guards' supplies. Besides her Elven guards, the plague-weakened Men and the ax-weakened gates were the only things standing between Elluin and the invaders from Rhun.

The Men were now battling each other through a narrow opening in the gate. Thranduil hoped that there would be a few Elves in the scrimmage, providing a stronger defense. But he wished even more fervently that Elluin was as far from the brawl as possible, and well guarded. Nidhair and Delwion, at least, would not stray from her side, if they could help it. Thranduil willed himself to trust that they would prevent Elluin from coming to any harm. He could not fathom losing his heart, his spirit's mate, his dearest companion—so he dismissed the thought. Nidhair had been his shadow for hundreds of years, and was now becoming his friend—the only one he had, beside Elluin. That was what was at stake for him, personally.

He spoke another encouraging word to his stallion, who snorted in acknowledgment as he charged onward over the plains, a gray cloud flying across the shadows of night.

"Lanterns!" Cembeleg ordered from beside him when some of the horses started to stumble in the darkness.

Thranduil endured the temporary reduction in speed as his soldiers passed around the supplies. He hoped the Rhun men would see the Elven lights and decide to abandon their attempt on the town. There was also the possibility that they would send in all their forces against the gate, even the two hundred still standing in reserve, in an attempt to take the settlement before the new army's arrival. More likely, the assault would go on as it was—he doubted the Men would look behind them, and his company was still, perhaps, at too far a distance for the Men to distinguish what they saw.

The Elves on the wall would see the lights, at least, though the deepening darkness also hid them from each other.

"Signal our people," Thranduil ordered.

Cembeleg gave the command, and soon, an oil-coated arrow was ignited and launched high into the air.

There would be no response, but perhaps they had kindled hope for the besieged.

"We are drawing near. Pick up the pace!" Cembeleg boomed. "To the queen!"

"To the queen!" the Elves chorused behind him.

~.~.~

The gate was failing. Garren had somehow managed not to have his arm sliced off yet by the relentless attacks of the invaders as they waved their spears and axes through every opening. But many others had received injuries, and no few had been skewered unto death. Even one of the Elves had been wounded. One of his companions had pulled him away before Garren could see the extent of the damage, and he was certainly too focused on the defense to take stock of those who were not in his immediate surroundings. But he knew that the swords of the three Elves fighting by the gate, and his own men, had also inflicted their share of wounds on the enemies.

There was another crunching groan from the timbers by the left-most hinges of the gate, nearly masked by the shouting of men and the incessant thumping and scraping of metal against wood. Slivers of it were littered over the ground amid the spilled blood. Garren could not order the gate to be braced—there were too many holes, now, through which spears were intermittently stabbing at whatever was in reach. The gates would soon give way, and they would be pushed back into the courtyard, then overrun by the mounted foes.

During the struggle at the gate in which the Elf named Remlastor mostly aided, the captain and another Elf—Idhanar, Garren thought his name was—had quickly buried pikes halfway into the muddy ground near the entrance that would at least slow the horses. They had also strung ropes across the hard at the level of a rider's shoulders, which would hopefully unhorse many before the obstacle was discovered and cut down.

The three Elves on the wall had run out of arrows. One of them remained on the rampart with the small handful of remaining archers of Stony Bend, accepting the occasional spare arrow from them. Meanwhile, the other Elves descended to join Aurados and Idhanar. All of the Elf-soldiers drew their swords and stood behind the pike fence with the Men who were defending the gates.

"The Elvenking and his army are not far, now," one of the Elves shouted as encouragement.

Wood cracked. Men shouted. Garren ordered the gate cleared, and everyone who was able to do so ran back a few paces into the courtyard. In another instant, the left-most gate splintered along its hinges and was knocked over, crushing two Men beneath as the enemy host on foot stormed over it. They were immediately answered with swords, and the defenders were largely successful at eliminating the remaining unmounted foes now that they had the space to maneuver. But Garren knew that the bulk of the enemy forces was, by now, charging headlong toward the breach. This would be a difficult battle.

"Berio i edhelbereth!" Aurados shouted, and the six Elves shouted a battle cry as the first of the enemy cavalry jumped over the ruined gates.

"Hold fast!" Garren cried, picking up a shield. "Dive and stab upward!"

The words were barely out of his mouth before the onslaught began in earnest. He lost track of everything around him but the clattering hooves coming toward him and the swinging swords at a level with his head. He sidestepped, ducked, and slashed however he could, grabbing unarmed limbs and yanking to unbalance. A few horses ran past alone, spooked by the torches that some of his men were waving to slow their advance. Many of the invaders were unhorsed behind him, cantering straight into the rope the Elves had strung.

Garren knew it was a waste of time to try to catch one of the horses for his own use. It would take too long for him to bring the animal under control. All he could do was continue to slash at the swords and appendages of the passing Men and hope that his efforts were enough. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Elf captain help his unsteady wounded companion onto an enemy horse and send him further into the city. One by one, the remaining Elves managed to hop onto another of the abandoned horses and, by some magic of their kind, the horses immediately became willing servants beneath them.

The enemies were now fighting both the mounted Elves and the Men on foot, and their progress was slowed. But despite his distraction, Garren could hear the screams of the wounded and dying beasts and Men on both sides as he fought. His heart was breaking beneath the battle rage. Stony Bend would surely fall.

~.~.~

"My queen!" Amben shouted from outside the hall.

Elluin spun from where she was comforting a new orphan, and rose swiftly, leading the youth to a matron before rushing out. Amben was half dragging a wounded Elf into the building, blood dripping steadily down his arm and onto the ground.

She recognized him instantly. "Ortheldir, what happened?" she breathed. Nidhair helped lift him and they set him down gently on a blanket on the ground beside a sleeping, fevered old Man. Elluin evaluated her soldier quickly.

"My queen," he gasped, breathless with pain, "the gate will soon be overrun."

"Remove his armor," she ordered her guards, and Nidhair and Delwion immediately obeyed as an elleth, Lirthel, brought a pot of clean water, bandages, and a needle and thread.

"Nidhair, this cannot continue," Elluin said stiffly. "I am sending two additional guards to the gates."

The captain looked briefly at her and pursed his lips before returning to his task. "Please send a scout first, my queen," he begged. "If the enemy has advanced as much as Ortheldir says, we will need our defense concentrated here." Ortheldir was bleeding heavily from a gash on his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck. Many other scratches could be seen on his arms, and one of his vambraces had been punctured completely.

"Forvenor, Gwaumen," Elluin called toward the door. Two Elven guards appeared and saluted, though she only looked up once she had a rag pressed tightly to Ortheldir's shoulder. "Go towards the gates, and try to stay hidden. If you think the gates can still be defended a few moments more, join the fighting there. If the position cannot be held, call back our ellyn and we shall make our stand here."

They were soon out the door and Elluin was focused on cleaning the ellon's wounds. He began to mutter something, but the sound soon gave way to a hiss.

"Do not try to speak, Ortheldir," she soothed.

He grunted in protest and tried again. "The king comes," he managed.

"Thank the One," Elluin breathed. "There is hope for all of us. Let us get you stitched up so you can salute him when he arrives."

Ortheldir's eyes were glazed with pain, but the creasing of his brow indicated that he recognized the unlikelihood of the statement. He had lost too much blood to stand on his own, let alone raise an arm in salute.

"Well, perhaps just give him a report," Elluin amended with a smile. "I'm afraid it will be bed rest for you, for a while."

"Many foes," he added quietly. There was still a possibility that the invaders would reach the hall before Thranduil and his army could overcome them.

Elluin nodded for Lirthel to apply a poultice of chamomile and marigold to the wounds even as she stitched.

"The king will come, Ortheldir," Lirthel said with conviction as she worked. "If he has to ride straight through the walls, the king will come before any harm befalls the queen."

Elluin did not allow her thoughts to stray beyond her companion's wounds as she completed the stitching. She had just cut the last of the thread when she heard a group of horses approach.

"My queen," Aurados called before he and his companions came to a halt before the doors. Her heart dropped as her suspicions were confirmed. He jumped down from the horse and began his report as he led the ellyn swiftly into the hall. "We are here at your order. The gate is overrun. The townsmen are fleeing as they might, but the Men of Rhun are chasing down the survivors."

"Barricade the doors," Nidhair barked in the Common Tongue, and Aurados nodded his consent for the soldiers to station themselves outside.

"As you said, my queen, this will be where we make our last defense," the captain continued, and stepped outside the doors. He gave her a final salute as Delwion closed them from within.

The townspeople began murmuring in panic even as they pushed the readied barrels against the doors. Elluin had no words of comfort for them.

~.~.~

Garren had not hesitated to call a retreat once he estimated that one hundred of the enemy horsemen had successfully entered the courtyard. He rallied as many Men as he could, shouting for them to retreat and separate, find shelter in the alleyways, and regroup at the chieftain's hall. Distantly, he realized the Elves had also ridden off toward the town center.

He did not stop to see how many of his men were cut down as they split off in different directions, focusing instead on slaying pursuers however he could with the men alongside him. As they navigated seldom-used roads, they blessed each abandoned barrel, broken cartwheel, or spare broom lying in the path. Anything that could slow the advance of the oncoming horsemen or extend their reach to cause more damage meant precious seconds of survival.

They were also lucky that the invaders were pursuing in small groups of only two or three. Once Garren and his companions could cut them down or outrun them past some obstacle in the road, they could run a good distance before encountering the next group of horsemen to engage.

Men were killed at each encounter, but at last they reached the hall. Two dozen of his men had already assembled there by the door, joining eight Elves in defensive stances. Another three Elves were on the roof, using the last of their arrows to pick off any of the Rhun men who happened to ride into their sights. An alarming amount of his own men were sitting or lying against the door and the wall, obviously wounded. Garren grimly approved of not opening the door to the hall at this stage of the battle. If the invaders managed to break into it, his father would likely be the first to fall, along with all of the sick. Among those were so many soldiers who could defend the city if—once—they recovered, with the Elves' help. Not to mention the women and children. And there was the Elvenqueen herself.

Garren led the remaining members of his group up to the doors to join the forces there, depositing another five wounded men against the wall.

"Lord Garren," Aurados greeted, his face serious, "I am glad to see you well."

"For now," he answered. "What is your assessment, captain? Will they attack the hall?"

"They have made no sign of it, yet," Aurados replied, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "They are likely concentrating their forces at the gates. I suspect they are just picking off small groups of soldiers to make it easier to control the entrance."

Hope kindled in Garren's heart. If they could hold out here long enough, the Elvenking's army could perhaps reach them before many more of his people were lost. The toll was already too heavy to contemplate. But then a thought struck him.

"When King Thranduil comes…won't the Rhun men be pushed inward, towards us?"

Aurados nodded once.

"Hest nin," an Elf on the roof cried, "i maethyr win anglennar!"

"The king is approaching the gates," Aurados told Garren. "Let us trust to our skills and strength a little while longer." An Elf on the roof shot a burning arrow into the sky at the captain's word.

"A Elbereth," the Elf soldier sang into the dark night sky, "le linnathon nef aear, si nef aearon. Gilthoniel, boe ammen veriad lin."

Garren recognized it as a prayer. He hoped someone was listening. But even if the Elves' gods were not paying attention, at least the Elvenking would know where to find them. He just hoped he would find them alive.