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

Chapter 16: Arrival

The journey was arduous, but after several days the Company arrived at Esgaroth. Gentle hills obscured the city from view, but already they could see a thick pillar of smoke rising from its general direction. Gerithor began to run, urging the party to hurry as he began to climb. They soon crested the tallest of the hills, and the entire group began to murmur with fear and despair when their eyes landed upon the city. Smoke billowed high into the crisp morning air, and Gerithor's heart constricted when he saw that the entire city was ablaze with bright orange fire. It appeared as if the lake itself was on fire, and thousands of dark shapes could be seen swarming across makeshift bridges into the destroyed city.

"We are too late..." He whispered, falling to his knees as he was overcome with emotion. He had failed. They all had. After all they had been though... It had all been for naught.

The dwarves wailed aloud and several cast themselves face first upon the ground, in agony as they watched the city of their allies burn. The rangers joined their commander in sadness, falling to their knees at his side. Not even the elves were unmoved, and many of them put a hand to their hearts in silent mourning.

Glorfindel, however, had not given up hope. He leapt upon a rock, his bright eyes gazing downward into the valley. He intently peered at the city for a moment and suddenly pointed. "Look! Survivors! They still fight in the town square!"

Gerithor's head slowly rose and he looked closer, and to his surprise there were indeed a small number of fighters gathered together in the center of town, little more than specks from where he stood. Enemies surrounded them, their number beyond count. Gerithor's spirits rose, and he stood to his feet.

"Quickly, there's no time to spare! We must aid them!" Without waiting for the others he sprang down the hillside, his long legs carrying him swiftly toward the city. Glorfindel nimbly ran after him, and soon after the rest of the Company followed. The hillside was covered with brittle grass and strewn with rocks, but they made it down without incident. Gerithor could see a dark writing mass on the far shore, and he surmised that it was the rest of the enemy army.

"There are only orcs," Glorfindel said, relief clear in his voice. "Perhaps the Easterlings turned back."

"We can only hope," Gerithor replied. He drew his longsword and hurried ahead, his feet crunching on the stony shore of the lake. A small contingent of orcs that had just begun to cross one of the bridges spotted the company, and with a cry the orc leader rushed toward them.

"Charge!" Gerithor shouted as he rose his sword high. His blade shone in the distant fire that engulfed the city, and his eyes burned with immovable determination.

He quickly swung downward as the first orc neared him, cutting the creature in half down to the lower rib cage. He freed his sword from the body and swiftly decapitated another orc, before executing a quick roll and cutting the legs out from under a third one. He could feel more energy coursing through him, and he used it to his advantage to rally his men.

"Defend the North! Defend the North!" He cried, continuing to cut a bloody swathe through the enemy forces. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Glorfindel advancing beside him, his cruel elvish blade causing the orcs to cower in fear.

"Drive them back! Drive them into the lake!" Glorfindel exclaimed. At his powerful voice the remaining orcs turned and fled, but the Company would give them no respite. Gerithor drew his bow and rapidly fit an arrow to the string, firing at one of the fleeing orcs and felling him immediately.

Suddenly a volley of arrows rushed by him, and the remaining orcs all fell to the ground. White feathered arrows peppered the ground where the orcs had stood moments before, and not a single one survived.