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

Chapter 32: The Last Battle Part 1

Rain had begun to fall by the time they reached the fortress, soaking them all and muddying the ground. Distant thunder growled like a great beast, rumbling ominously through the trees. Dol Guldur stood dark in the distance, torches lighting its walls in an eery glow. Like jagged teeth, the ruins bit into the horizon, which was black with storm clouds. Though it was midday, it felt and looked like the blackest part of night. Dead trees cast their shadows upon the landscape, grasping and haunted, their bare branches spiking into the sky. Ravens sat in their boughs, waiting eagerly to claim the dead that were sure to soon litter the field. The darkness pressed in on the army, choking out every fragment of light.

Gerithor shifted nervously, his feet sinking into the damp earth. The smell of decaying leaves filled his nostrils, for though it was spring in the rest of the world this part of the forest was always dead.

He watched the fortress for a moment, seeing distant movement upon the ramparts. They were preparing a defense. He hoped that his army would be up to the task, even though many of them had already seen too much fighting recently.

The elves in particular seemed demoralized, frightened even, casting nervous glances at each other and watching the fortress in apprehension. The Easterling warriors were unphased, standing still in disciplined lines. Among the other soldiers there was the usual mixture of anxiety, excitement, and tension that was ubiquitous before a battle.

Hadar approached and stopped at Gerithor's side, his dark eyes running across the parapets of the evil stronghold of their common enemy.

"This is it," he said solemnly, drawing his scimitar meaningfully.

"Aye," Gerithor replied with a nervous nod. "Are your men ready?"

Hadar let out a subdued laugh, his smile fading almost as quickly as it had come. "As ready as they'll ever be." The burly warrior's demeanor was apprehensive, an expression that seemed foreign on his swarthy features.

Gerithor rose his sword into the air, and the army slowly moved forward. He was to lead a bold frontal assault on the fortress, while Elrond and Galadriel's forces flanked and attacked through the rear gate once it had been opened from the inside. His job was, arguably, the most dangerous, as he personally was to lead a small force to the gate. He had handpicked the few surviving Dunedain as well as Hadar to accompany him.

No-one spoke a word as they marched ahead. The distant thunder rumbled, and it seemed to whisper doom, doom, as the stormy skies darkened before them. The army quickened its pace, and a thousand fiery dots rose from the walls of Dol Guldur.

Gerithor looked up, his eyes reflecting the light of the flaming arrows as they began their downward descent.

"Charge!" He cried, breaking into a sprint and raising his sword aloft once more. His army let out a battlecry as one, their feet thundering upon the damp ground as they rushed onward.

=======================

Zaskia glared down at the advancing army, her violet eyes filled with electrifying hate. How dare they... How dare they! Defeating her army was one thing, but invading her own land was something entirely worse... and unacceptable. They would not leave alive, even if she had to kill herself to do it. They would all die.

"Fire!" She cried, sweeping downward with her arm. The arrows flew from the orcs' bowstrings, whistling with deadly report. Her full lips curled into a sadistic smile when she heard the cries of her enemies as the arrows landed among their ranks. It served them right. Especially the Easterlings... Her soul seethed with rage at the very thought of them. They were betrayers, fools to the core. They would be repaid for their treachery.