(PTII)Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 4)

Chapter 7: Esgaroth

Astrid sprinted through the streets, oblivious to the confusion of the townspeople who had likely just gotten out of bed. She hurried up the winding street, intent on reaching the keep as soon as she could. She could hear drums in the distance now, drums calling doom, doom across the plains. Though she didn't slow her pace, her mind wandered to the people of Esgaroth, and how they might be feeling at this moment...
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Esgaroth

DOOM! DOOM! The drums called loudly. Massive trolls beat upon their instruments in a steady rhythm as orcs poured over the newly made path.

"Move!" Zaskia cried from her midnight black steed, watching her massive army flood past her like a swarm of armored locusts. The sky was dark with crows and ravens, summoned by the sorceress' powerful magic to block out the sun. Not that she cared about the wellbeing of the orcs... but they were far more effective fighters when they weren't cowering from the sunlight.

She could see the guards of Esgaroth scrambling madly to man their defenses... they had been preparing for an assault, but none expected one this soon. Zaskia had rode day and night to meet her army in the eaves of Mirkwood, where they had prepared for an attack under the watchful gaze of the Wood Elves. Their king had attempted to send scouts to warn the Men of the attack, but Zaskia's warriors had made short work of them. They had even captured one of them, and from her they learned by interrogation that Mirkwood's forces had withdrawn into the Elvenking's Halls. Evidently their king wished to wait the enemy out, thereby decreasing the loss of life of his own people.  Let the cowards hide, Zaskia reasoned. Divide and conquer. 

She turned an icy gaze to the battle that was now unfolding on the ramparts of the city. Orcs were pouring up makeshift ladders and cutting down the ill-trained guards where they stood, while others battered away at the front gate. The screams of women and children could be heard over the din of battle, and Zaskia's dark lips curled up in an evil smile. She enjoyed the sound of others suffering. Ever since she was a child, she had been unnaturally fascinated with death. Her mentor saw this from a young age, and took her under his guiding wing. He taught her the dark arts, honing her malevolent obsession into a cruel and sharp weapon. He was powerful in sorcery, but she soon became even stronger than he. Her hatred for her own people drove her, gave her purpose. Though her mentor eventually faded in his talents, he still guided her along the path that she had chosen. 

A sharp, piercing screech suddenly rent the air, signaling the arrival of her teacher. Dark, batlike wings beat the air, and with the breeze they created went the scent of death. Zaskia turned to see a great beast flying through the air. Its head swiveled to and fro upon a long, scaly neck, and its eyes searched greedily for prey. 

Its rider guided it to the ground, its sharp claws grasping one of the many wooden boards that jutted out of the lake. 

"Zaskia," The rider hissed. He was clad in a black cloak, and atop his head was a helmet of bronze fashioned in a crownlike manner. His very being exuded dread, and everything about him made it clear that he was not of the living. "You have done well."

"Thank you, m'lord," Zaskia replied, bowing respectfully to her mentor. "I trust the ride here was pleasant?"

The wraith made a sound that was a cross between a hiss and a coughing laugh. "As much as can be expected. Khanar draws near, his forces shall arrive when the sun sits at its highest point." 

"And you, Lord Khamul?" Zaskia asked. 

"I shall... oversee this attack. Though Esgaroth shall fall easily, it is vital that we lose as few soldiers as possible. Those within the mountain will fight with the might of Durin himself." 

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Erebor

Word had just reached the Lonely Mountain of the attack, and the main thoroughfare was packed with panicking dwarves. Warriors attempted to bring order to the area, but their efforts were met with failure. Several small fires had started within the mountain kingdom, for in their panic several dwarves had knocked over torches or had thrown their pipes atop flammable materials. Mothers searched for lost children, and several of the more nefarious dwarves were stealing things when nobody was looking. The entire scene was one of complete disarray. 

"Durin's helm!" Dain exclaimed as he stormed about his throne room. "Ye'd think the bloody world was on fire!" 

"It is," Dwalin said stoically as his eyes followed the king's movements. Several other dwarves stood about as well, awaiting orders from their king. 

"Close the flippin' gates! Set guards atop the walls! Let none in or out!" Dain screamed as he pounded a fist against a nearby pillar. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and the veins on his neck were visibly pulsing. 

"Calm down!" Bofur, one of the other dwarves present, said urgently as he held his hands up. "What about those fleeing Esgaroth? The gates have to be kept open for them!" 

Dain paused his rampage for a moment, raising a hand to stroke his beard. "Hm... Hadn't thought o' that. Belie that order!" The dwarves that had hurried to carry out his command stopped, and awkwardly looked at each other before returning to Dain's side. 

"I'm goin' out there then!" Dain exclaimed, grabbing the massive warhammer that always leaned on the side of his throne. "Those fragile little men are gonna need help!" 

"Aye," Dain nodded. "I'm comin' with ya." 

"Me too!" Bofur said cheerfully. "Haven't hit an orc in the head in ages!" 

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Dale

"Astrid, don't be ridiculous!" Kell protested. "You've never touched a sword in your life!"

"She's right though," Brand countered. "Everyone should be armed. Even the women and older children."

"Besides, I was not suggesting that we go to Esgaroth. Dale will soon be under attack and we should be prepared is all." Astrid crossed her arms adamantly. Kell and her had been arguing back and forth for some time now, with Astrid suggesting that every able bodied citizen be armed and Kell thinking it foolish and dangerous. 

Kell let out a resigned sigh. "I suppose you aren't wrong. In that case, I suggest that we send the Hearth Guard to Esgaroth to aid in bringing as many of our people to safety as possible. Those who are left behind must make for Erebor." 

"But what about Dale?? We cannot let it fall!" Astrid exclaimed. 

"It will fall... Whether we defend it or not," Brand replied. "Erebor may stand if there are enough defenders. After all, we only face a mindless rabble of orcs." 

"That is not entirely true, m'lord," Kell said hesitantly. "An army of Easterlings also marches toward us. I do not know how far they are, but they will soon bolster the orc forces." 

"Then we must make haste. As many people as possible must be in the mountain by the time they arrive. As for me... I march to Esgaroth."