Notes: Thank you all for your offers of providing artistic support. I am getting back to everyone in turn. I'll admit this is all new and I'm not sure how I'm going to handle everything yet. Any advice is welcome. I'm still sticking with the short vignettes of different characters. Also, still working up the Dark Mage of Rhudaur and Ghost Recon.
Outside of the Royal Library, At the Surface – 4:00 pm
The ranger Amrith cautiously eyed the surrounding area for any signs of life. Earlier, he had hidden the tracks that they had left in the snow so as to cover their movements. The wily ranger also had some of the ohtari rhyn hold their mounts over by the Royal Hall in case a quick departure became necessary. The newly constructed wagon also sat there, slowly being loaded with books. Annael and Ostomir, who had just taken another load over there, approached Amrith.
"Anything going on?" asked Annael.
Amrith held up his hand. "Something is out there. I can feel it," he answered quietly. "Be on your guard. Report anything suspicious to Baranor and I." His white cloak over white coveralls made him blend into the landscape very well.
Annael and Ostomir crouched down behind the pile of rubble being used by the ranger. They scanned around. "I don't see anything," Ostomir said, his breath steaming out of his mouth.
Amrith sniffed the chill air. "They're out there. Best one of you go tell Mallon. Evening will be approaching soon. They'll attack then." Annael left immediately to inform the others. The ranger took a deep breath and unslung his steel composite bow. He slowly pulled a long-shafted arrow from his quiver that had a broadhead tip and gull feather fletchings. He made a glance towards Ostomir. "We might have an hour at best. Be ready."
The Rose Vault – 4:12 pm
Mallon and Aerin had hit the jackpot. They grabbed texts on runes from the Oval Room, details on astrology from the Indigo Room and instructions on alchemy from the Grey Room. They rushed through the North Garden, barely pausing to admire the jade pillars that rose to a skylight above a reflecting pool full of lilies and ferns. Now in the Rose Vault past the great mithril doors, they marveled at the pale wine porphyry fountains that stretched up to the ceiling as pilasters and buttresses. Mallon was starting to rush now. "Herblore, medicinal plants…good, take these," he said to Haedorial and the men. He would barely crack the cover and read a few words and then toss it to someone.
They quickly filled sacks and transported them upstairs. Haedorial held up one book with a leather cover and a painting of the Two Trees upon it. At the top and both lower portions of the cover were diamonds embedded in the leather. "The mystical properties of Silima?" he mused and turned the cover. "My word, my word, my word, I believe this was written by Celebrimbor," he said with a gasp and showed the Tengwar script to Aerin. "All in a long-forgotten dialect of Quenya."
Suddenly, Annael could be heard calling down the hall. "Mallon! We are going to be attacked. Prepare yourselves!" He came running down past two ohtari rhyn who had been standing guard.
Mallon turned, his face set and ready. "What? From whom?"
Annael shrugged. "Amrith told me to alert you, but I don't think he knows what is out there."
Aerin, overhearing this, cursed, "Damn, we need more time. We'll get these tomes up to the wagon and make preparations." Valandil and Mercatur picked up several books and began hauling them quickly toward the surface.
Mercatur called back, "We'll stay topside to meet the attack."
Mallon nodded quickly and went back to cataloguing the texts. "We must hurry," he said nervously to Aerin. "We are out of time." He put on his visored bascinet, fastened the leather strap and splayed the chainmail aventail over his armor. Unlike his mentor, King Arveleg, he would not be caught unprepared.
Outside of the Royal Library – 4:35 pm
Mercatur, Valandil, and Annael had just finished piling the books in the wagon when they noticed the growing darkness around them. Several lanterns provided dim lighting in the area around the Royal Hall and the library. Amrith, Ostomir, Thangar, and others were hastily preparing a defense by piling rubble and stacking arrows. Mercatur and the rest hustled over to lend a hand. Baranor led the guard in doing the same, helped by Falathar Girithlin.
Amrith was busy stringing rope along the line of rubble that was laid out in front of the library. "There are orcs out there. Perhaps a hundred or more. I'm sensing some trolls too."
Annael's eyes widened. "A hundred? Trolls? What are we going to do?" he asked with some obvious worry.
Mercatur slapped him on the back. "We're going to kill 'em. That's what we're going to do," he replied as he cocked his crossbow and placed a bolt in the groove.
In the flickering lights of the lanterns, movement could clearly be seen in the snow and the sun was setting rapidly. Ugly, fanged creatures advanced on their position. Many wielded jagged scimitars and a few held short bows. Valandil quickly unslung his composite bow while Mercatur drew a bead on one orc with his crossbow. "I've been itching for this," he said as he let a bolt fly. It pierced the dirty leather armor covering the beast. Snarling, the orc dropped his scimitar and fell over, clutching at the bolt protruding from his chest.
Amrith raised his hand. "Fire!" he yelled and Valandil and the others loosed arrows and several orcs fell, writhing and shrieking.
"Pour it into them!" Amrith yelled as he continued laying rope along the barricade. "I need another minute!"
Several arrows fell among the defenders, but none found a mark. Amrith finished stringing the rope while another volley flew.
Baranor pointed at the wagon. "You two! Start heading east! We'll cover you." Two ohtari rhyn manning the wagon leapt on and began to drive away to preserve the books, with two other knights riding as guard.
The orcs charged and the defenders drew hand weapons to receive them. A dozen more orcs fell to the flurry of bolts and arrows just before they reached the barricade. One ohtari rhyn was hit by an arrow in the leg. The wound was not serious, but Amrith ordered him below. The orcs climbed and hacked at the barricade, heedless of their own safety, howling and snarling like beasts. Mercatur sliced the leg off of one orc and Valandil thrust another through the throat with the point of his sword. Annael and Thangar held their own as well, while the two knights of Tyrn Gorthad fought off four orcs. A handful of arrows felled three more of the beasts, but the fighting was becoming desperate around the rubble. To make matters worst, a number of trolls began advancing toward the library to bolster the attack.
Baranor waved his arms overhead. "Trolls! Fall back, fall back in good order. We'll cover!" he said as the six Royal Guardsmen continued to hold back the enemy, their shields interlocking perfectly. With coordination born of endless training, one guard would move his shield slightly while the man to his left would thrust his sword out into an orc and then close the shield wall again.
The eight ohtari rhyn on the line began to fall back smoothly, their shields also interlocked. Along with the four Cardolani foot soldiers, they formed a shield wall, hacking at any orc brave enough to advance. Mercatur cut down another with a swing of his axe, but more were pouring over the rubble barricades.
Valandil called to Amrith, "Whatever you are going to do, do it now!" Amrith nodded and yanked the rope. Along the rubble piles, a number of skins filled with kerosene burst into flame, showering orcs with flaming liquid. A score of orcs caught fire and writhed in the snow, squealing and shrieking, consumed by the flame. Amrith leapt up and hacked at an attacker, while Thangar cut down yet another.
A stray arrow found the throat of one of the foot soldiers and he collapsed into the snow, spraying blood from his wound. By now the trolls had arrived and Thangar's squire was crushed by the great club of one of the hill trolls. Thangar moved to save him, but two trolls and an orc blocked his way. Annael put an arrow into one troll, but it barely blinked. The other monster then proceeded to rend the fallen squire where he lay. His screams pierced the night air for some time.
Thangar cursed, but fell back, pursued by the orc and troll. Valandil jumped in and slashed the orc across the face. The beast screamed and fell, holding its eyes. The troll swung its club down on Valandil, who dodged out of the way before the weapon shattered a wooden beam. Seeing an opportunity, Mercatur strode in and hewed the troll with his axe. The blade bit deeply into the creature and vile black blood gushed out. Following up, Valandil struck the troll in the leg while Thangar and Annael hacked at its body. Overwhelmed and reeling, the giant monster fell backward into the bloody snow.
Ostomir fought valiantly alongside his squire. Nearly ten orcs and a troll closed in, and they were in danger of being cut off. Amrith called to them, "This way! We must get back to the library!" Ostomir sliced another orc open, but took a cut along his arm, knocking some of the links in his chainmail away. In the violence of the fray, two of the vile creatures leapt at the squire, who skewered one. The other orc grappled with the squire, bringing him down. Ostomir moved to help, but another troll stepped up to engage him. Two more beasts piled on the hapless squire and plunged daggers into his skull.
Ostomir stood, swinging bravely at the troll. The orcs, having finished the squire, got up and rushed him. Seeing the danger, Valandil and Mercatur ran to Ostomir and slew the orcs. They then grabbed the young Tinare lord, shouting, "We have to go! He's dead!" Ostomir cut the troll across the chest and then turned to join the two as the beast bellowed in pain.
The library was in sight. Nearby, one ohtari rhyn was crushed by a troll before it was hacked to pieces in turn by the shield wall. Reaching the library, Amrith pushed everyone through the doorway before collapsing some rubble into the entryway. Catching their breath, they took a role call: the two ohtari rhyn with the wagon had escaped with some guards; Thangar and Ostomir's squires were dead; one ohtari rhyn was dead and another wounded; and one foot soldier dead. Ostomir, Thangar, and Annael had received light wounds, but they were otherwise in good health. Forty orcs and perhaps three trolls lay slain outside, but the odds were still bad.
"There will be more where they came from and we can expect no reinforcements," said Amrith quietly.
Baranor nodded. "Aye, we best prepare a reception for them."
Baranor and three of the Royal Guards had created defenses inside the library leading to the staircases and they were ready for battle. They stacked more arrows in strategic places. Sounds could be heard outside of orcs and trolls digging out the rubble from the entryway. Baranor sat behind one of the piles of rubble with his bow. "Get ready to fall back to the lower level. I've created another line of defense," he told the others. His winged mithril helm reflected the light of nearby torches giving him the look of a Númenórean warrior of old.
Unexpectedly, the sounds of digging stopped outside. The defenders waited nervously, wondering what would come next. Haedorial, Kaile and Galadel huddled behind the soldiers, practically shaking. Galadel held the shortsword that she was given and had some training in, praying to the Valar that she didn't have to use it. The bard grasped both of their shoulders. "We…we have a strong position. We are…are with some of the greatest warriors of the north. We will survive and sing about this," he said, trying to force a chuckle, but he just made a weak, rasping sound.
Suddenly, piercing the still night air was a single demonic voice crying out in an unidentifiable language. It was like the shriek of a dying man mixed with the baying of a wolf. The rubble in the entryway began to tremble. Large stones crumbled into dust as the barricade at the entrance disintegrated.
Amrith blinked in awe. "What sorcery is this?" he said to himself. Visible now through the entryway was a horrid dog-faced monster. The ranger loosed an arrow at it, but it was deflected away by some unseen force. Orcs poured through the opening, squealing and gibbering.
Baranor fired an arrow, which sunk into an orc's chest up to the feathers and it crashed down the staircase. Mercatur popped another with a crossbow bolt that sank into its neck. A few others fell to arrows, but the battle was now joined. The orcs screamed with bloodlust, raising their scimitars. Giving a battle cry, Valandil and Ostomir clashed with five of the beasts, while the Cardolani Royal Guard took on six. The dog-faced creature strode in confidently and pointed his palm at one of the ohtari rhyn. Blood erupted from his nose and eyes and he fell, screaming. Thangar cut the throat of an orc, but was in turn stabbed in the arm. Chaos was everywhere.
Setting his defense in motion, Baranor kicked at several pillars, bringing heavy stones down upon the attackers. A number of orcs were crushed along with one troll, casting dust everywhere. The dog-faced beast dove out of the way to avoid one of the stones and was showered by small rocks. Baranor clove the chest of another troll and shouted, "Fall back! We must retreat to the next line."
Just Outside of Annúminas – 4:50 pm
Ulgarin heard the sound of fighting within the deserted city. She strained to see what was happening with her powerful elven eyes. The group she had procured to attack the emerging Arthedan and Cardolani group stood about, seemingly lost. Ulgarin kicked some snow in fury. "Damn, they were supposed to wait. If we go in after them, we'll get caught in all the traps as well," she fumed. Grabbing a paunchy hireling, she raged. "Go over there and get them to fall back. I don't know what Ulduin thinks he is doing." The portly mercenary began jogging toward Annúminas. He got no more than fifty feet, when he was hit by a solid bolt of ice, which split his skull. Ulgarin gasped just as her world erupted in jagged shards of icicles.
Suffering from multiple lacerations, Ulgarin fell backward with a cry. She could hear the screams of her thugs around her. The elf wiped the blood from her eyes and crawled behind a nearby snow mound. She pulled a sharp icicle from her shoulder and winced in pain. Scanning the snowy terrain, she spotted a woman dressed in white moving rapidly on a horse toward the ruined city. Ulgarin was too stunned to react and by the time her head cleared, the woman was gone. Of her force of twelve scoundrels, eight lay dead and three were badly injured. Ulgarin swore under her breath, "That wench will pay dearly." The elf grabbed her one remaining uninjured hireling. "Let's go!" she ordered. The man hesitated, pointing to the wounded. Ulgarin sneered, and with a wave of her hand the injured men burst into flame, writhing for a few seconds before becoming still. The man's jaw fell open, but he reasoned that following her would be in his best interest.
Within the Royal Library – 5:07 pm
One by one, the defenders fled down the staircase, the flickering of the lanterns creating an eerie light. Baranor, Amrith, and Mercatur held off any orcs or trolls brave enough to press the attack. Through the confusion, Mallon came up the stairs to assist in the defense. Hurling a rock at an orc, Baranor called, "We are heavily outnumbered. We must fall back."
Mallon raised his fist and called upon Varda. His body glowed for a moment before four of the vile beasts fell over, writhing in pain. Their shrieks echoed down the halls.
Slowly giving ground, Mercatur lopped the head off of one of them while Amrith shot another with an arrow. Baranor grabbed Amrith. "Get below!" he shouted, pushing the ranger roughly toward the staircase. Amrith took a few steps, turned and loosed one final arrow into a troll before he disappeared below.
Mercatur moved next. He feinted, fooling the troll into overextending itself, and then he sliced its belly open with his axe. As the troll doubled over, he ran down the staircase laughing. Baranor pushed Mallon back. "You're next!"
Mallon pushed right back. "This is my expedition. You go first!"
"There's no time to argue!" Baranor countered, slicing the arm off of another orc.
With a powerful grunt, Mallon grabbed Baranor and flung him back toward the staircase. He channeled raw power through himself and focused on an advancing troll. Black blood began to erupt from the troll's eyes, nose, and mouth. In a frenzy, two orcs swung at Mallon, but a flash of light caused them to miss. Then, the dog-faced creature peered from behind some rubble and pointed his finger at Mallon. A sickly green glow surrounded the Eketta Lord and when the light dissipated, he gasped as his ribs protruded from his chest. The front of his white surcoat was immediately stained red with blood. He staggered back and channeled what little power he had left.
"With my last breath I will stop you!" he cried, gurling blood. A ripple of energy shot from his hands and rolled over the orcs. Two were crushed by the channeled power and collapsed in a heap. Baranor tried to advance to save Mallon, but a dozen attackers move to block him.
Mallon was spent. He grasped his chest and fell to one knee, his breath streaming in ragged gulps and wheezes. He tried to stand, tried to channel his power, but nothing happened. As Mallon Eketta looked up, the beasts fell on the dying nobleman and tore him to shreds.
Baranor fled down the staircase and out through the west door into the White Room. Aerin put a ward on the door as they sealed it. The knight leaned up against the far wall and slid down to a sitting position. He shook his head wearily. "He's gone. Mallon is gone. We're trapped in here." Haedorial gasped and Kaile began to cry.
Valandil swore. "We'll make them pay. We'll fight room by room if we have to. We're not going down without a fight." Baranor and the other Royal Guards nodded in agreement, knowing that they were going to get their wish.
At the Top of the Staircase – 5:21pm
At the top of the staircase, Ulduin gathered the remnant of his force. Only half of his orcs remained while a third of his trolls had perished. He had sent a runner to summon Ulgarin and her reinforcements, but no one had yet returned. The dog-faced sorcerer called to his two thanes. "Burazog, Strulug, take a force down the staircase. Finish them off and gather up any books. I don't want any books harmed. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, baring his wicked fangs. The monstrous cave troll and the vicious Uruk chieftain nodded. The Witch King was very specific with what he wanted.
With a grunt, Strulug gathered a number of his depleted Urughâsh orcs and began heading down the staircase. Soon, a symbol at the base of the staircase glowed red. Ulduin tried to call out to warn Strulug, but it was too late. The symbol, placed by Mallon, erupted in flames. Smoke and fire leapt up to consume the orcs. Looking down, Ulduin stepped back amid the dust and flame that flew up. When the room had cleared, orcs could be seen below struggling or lying charred on the floor. In rage, Ulduin kicked over a frozen bookshelf.
This is not going as expected.
Strulug had survived, badly burnt, but seven of his force perished in the fire. Ulduin sighed with an angry grunt, snarling and gnashing his fangs. This problem would require some of his arcane power. He grabbed one of the orcs standing nearby and uttered a minor incantation. He shoved the whining beast over the ledge into the chaos below. The orc screamed, but to its amazement, it landed safely on two feet. Ulduin shook his head. "I should have known," he commented. He would need to do this for his entire force, depleting much of his sorcerous power and he was already growing weary.
Near the Street of Terraces, East of the Library – 5:32 pm
The wagon sat behind a grove of evergreens, covered with torn cloth and other hastily made camouflage. Two ohtari rhyn stood warily in the darkness, anxiously listening for any sound as the two mounted ones held their spears. The two drivers spoke softly, trying to figure out what to do next.
"What do you think happened to everyone?" one asked with a whisper.
"How should I know? You saw as much as I did," replied the other.
"I think we should go back and check it out," voiced the first one again.
The second one shook his head. "Our orders are to get the books back safely. Besides, if they survived, don't you think they would have told us by now."
The first one balked. "Look, we have to see if they're still alive. They might need help."
Suddenly, a woman on a horse appeared out of nowhere. She was dressed in a white hooded cloak that bore a bronze wyvern cloak pin. The two soldiers fell back in the snow. She appeared as a ghost in the dim light with her cloak and blonde hair whipping in the wind.
"Do not be afraid. I am here to help," she stated calmly. The men rose, pointing their swords at the woman.
The second one said indignantly, "Don't be afraid? You scared us half to death. Who are you?"
The woman held up her hands, palms out. "I am sorry. My name is Silmarien; a mage by trade. I come from Tharbad and am friends with members of your group. You must trust me." The men were skeptical, but realized that if she were an enemy, she could have just killed them and taken the books. They nodded in unison. Silmarien went to the wagon and pointer her hand at it. "Luhtu! Sairina!" she called and, to the amazement of the men, the wagon seemed to turn into a number of small pine trees.
One man slapped his own cheek. "Rogrog's teeth," he swore, "I've never seen this magic stuff before. What did you do?"
Silmarien smiled. "Don't worry. It's just an illusion. Come with me. You're friends are fighting desperately to stay alive."
With that, they headed west toward the library as the last light from the sun faded into black.