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Revolution  by Laikwalâssę

Revolution

 
 

Chapter 24:  courage born out of despair

The Troop Commander held up his hand signalling the warriors behind him to stop their advance. Three days ago he, the twin sons of Elrond and thirty warriors had arrived in the south not a league away from the looming dark fortress of Dol Gűldur.

As feared, even though they had ridden hard to cover the great distance into the south, orcs had already attacked the settlement nearest the fortress. Even battle hardened and tough warriors had looked unbelieving at the massacre the orcs had wrought among the elves of the little village.

The settlers had fought bravely, yet they had lost and they had lost all. The orcs had made no distinction between killing male or female, children or livestock. They had simply flooded the little settlement like a dark and rank cloud and had left nothing but death in their wake.

With a stony mask Galadhion had taken in the tragedy. He had no words available to express his grief. So, without much ado, he and his fellows had helped the elves of neighbouring settlements collect the dead to give them a proper funeral. The pyres had flared long into the night, a bright blazing of silent lament.

Galadhion had not yet talked to the leaders of the other settlements; there was not much to say anyway. This was the exact scenario his father had predicted would befall the elves of the south if they would not move their homesteads north.

The woodland realm did not have enough warriors to safeguard their borders without gaps; much less to protect settlements spread so far from one another. Protection could only be given, if not granted, within the ring of the Home Guard territory. This ring however was around the palace in the north, not here in the south.

In his blindness Thoran had urged the settlers to stay in the south and fight for their land. He was sure the settlers were trained enough to protect their homes against the orcs on their own. While attending the funerals Galadhion remembered these presumptuous declarations and he shook his head angrily. He was training warriors day after day and not even these specialists in warfare were always able to repel the foul hordes daily invading their home.

The settlers had now paid the highest price for their stubbornness. The King would be devastated when he was informed of the events. Although he had done all he could to convince the settlers to leave the south and resettle in the relative safety of the north, the wood elves had always rejected the King’s request.

Galadhion had initially intended to talk again to the settlers after this tragedy but he had swallowed his appeal the moment he had looked into their defiant faces. Instead, he was forced into making a decree. As much as he despaired over the lost lives, he was unable to convince the thick-headed wood dwellers otherwise. And as much as he could understand the wish of these elves to not leave their homes, he was unable to understand why they were inclined to pay for their homes with blood again and again.

But he was here to prevent another massacre like that of three days ago, with or without the consent of the settlers. This he had made clear a few minutes ago with his speech. The most endangered settlements had to be cleared at once and the settlers had to move to more secure spots or dwell with kinsmen further north until the situation in the south had been cleared or at least stabilised.

Feeling that the Crown Prince/Troop Commander was not open to any further conversation the settlers conceded, but not without many complaints among themselves. Galadhion had no stomach for any additional comments now after a scout had brought the message that another large group of orcs was gathering to march.

Sitting around a bonfire Galadhion and the warriors as well as the twin brothers were discussing strategies about how to best and most effectively use their humble number of warriors to confront the orcs.

While thinking hard and again discarding a plan Galdhion looked up at the odd feeling of being watched. While looking at the twins seated opposite him he recognised that their eyes were indeed directed at him yet they were not really looking at him. Instead their eyes were glazed over like in sleep.

Galadhion smiled. The twins were not sleeping; they were conversing with one another via mind speech. Galadhion was used to this, yet the other warriors around the fire were looking bewildered seeing the blank faces of the Imladris elves.

From one second to the other the eyes regained their brightness and Galadhion knew they had finished their debate. “Any suggestion we should be aware of?” he asked softly and smiled again at the raised eyebrow of Elladan a clear sign that he had been discovered at something he was sure no one would notice.

Instead, his brother Elrohir shook his head with an equal smile, yet there was no mirth in his eyes. “We have just debated how fortunate it would be if we had more warriors at hand. But under the best of circumstances our warriors will take another week to arrive.”

Galadhion nodded. `And only, if they have already departed` he thought grimly.

“They have!” Elladan answered with conviction and this time Galadhion raised an eyebrow. Had the dark-haired elf read his thoughts? But then his troubles were easy to guess without being a mind reader. How Elladan knew that the warriors of his home were already on their way he did not know, but he refrained from asking.

Galadhion gathered the leaders of their group around him to issue orders about how they would launch the first attack against the orcs. They harboured no hope of winning with their numbers, so they had to ambush them and to play tricks. Yet these were orcs and Galadhion had no qualms in ordering his warriors to kill these beasts whenever they could and by any means possible.

The settlers had withdrawn themselves from the planning and Galadhion had not pressed them to attend. They had much to think about he guessed, yet he knew the real reason behind their denial. Just as in the past, they held the King responsible for the death of their families.

Even if Galadhion and his group succeeded, which was more than unlikely, the problem would continue until no living elf was left in the south. Galadhion had no time to consider the wrong-headed illusions of the settlers. He would do his best to repel the orcs but he would not succeed in the end. The south was lost, but the inhabitants did not see it.

 

……………………………….

 

Galadhion rubbed his temples wearily. His feet felt leaden and his body ached everywhere. Today they had managed to drive back a large band of orcs and had prevented the destruction of a deserted settlement, yet not without losses.

They had lost three warriors, two of the Home Guard and one Border guard. Elrohir had taken an arrow to his shoulder but despite losing a large amount of blood the wound was not life threatening. It was painful, however, and the younger twin would not be available to fight for at least three or four days.

They had been fighting a strategy of attack and retreat for several weeks now. Their numbers were too small to achieve a breakthrough. Only while fighting with all they had to give could the group around Galadhion still hold their position, but their strength and reserves were failing and it was only a matter of time before they would be completely overrun. They could only delay the orcs from overrunning the southern lands but they couldn’t prevent it. If they didn’t get reinforcements soon, no warriors would return from the south.

 

…………………………………….

 

“We are ready!”

Galadhion looked up and nodded at Lathron. He had just a fierce debate with the younger twin. Although he had been pale and swaying slightly while standing before him, Elrohir had declared that he intended to join the fight this day. Galadhion sighed after receiving a shrug from Elladan.

The twin sons were Lords in their own right and equal in rank to himself. He had no authority to order them, although in his role as Troop Commander, he could forbid it. He knew further that Elladan would only be half as effective without his brother beside him, even though with a not fully recovered Elrohir he would still be hampered. Yet the brothers had declared that they were ready to fight and so he had conceded. They had to look after themselves. He had no warriors to spare.

This day would decide their fate anyway. Today they would either be able to repel the orcs or die trying. If the orcs managed to break through the small gully they had been defending for three weeks, the settlements would be overrun and the orcs would spare none still dwelling there.

Looking over their reduced group Galadhion gave the signal to advance. The plan was to join the warriors already positioned at the mouth of the ravine. Arriving there he did not have to direct his forces, the men already knew where to hide and what was expected of them. The Crown Prince directed a last critical gaze at the twin brothers and received a reassuring nod from Elrohir.

Accepting this, even if harbouring doubts Galadhion took his position and within minutes nothing indicated that twenty seven elves were waiting to bring death and havoc to the declared enemies of their race.

And they did not have to wait long. Galadhion briefly closed his eyes when he heard the first orcs entering the ravine. They made much noise but even worse was the smell they brought with them.

Out of reflex he tried to reach his father through their bond but again he failed. His thoughts were in too much turmoil and the distance was maybe too great. He used these arguments again to explain the missing connection. He banished all other reasons why he was not able to reach his father from his mind.

Slowly he rose and unsheathed his sword motioning his men to wait as long as possible until the orcs were upon them. This strategy had worked over the last weeks and would work again today. The orcs were too stupid to change their tactics. Nonetheless the orcs would win in the end; their numbers were large enough to make up for their lack of skills in warfare.

Within seconds the orcs were upon them and Galadhion had to use all his skills to fight the beasts coming at him from all directions. As in previous days he utilized all of his skills severing limbs and heads, with quick, efficient strokes. But again for every dead orc, another two took its place. Contrary to the previous days of fighting he had no reserves left to call upon.

He would fight until his last breath, of course, but their little group would be overrun, eventually accomplishing nothing. The orcs would swarm the south killing all who stood in their way, and the elves would be forced to retreat, mourn their dead, and go on as they always had done.

When he heard a painful cry behind him, he whirled around and just in time to see the swords of two orcs skewer a young lieutenant from the western border guard. The elf was dead before his body even touched the ground. Galadhion did not even have time to send a prayer to the Belain.  He was suddenly fighting for his very life when three orcs charged him en masse.

He slew the first orc and wounded the second enough to cause him to fall back, but the third had enough time to bring his sword down upon his upper arm, slicing through muscles, sinews and flesh. Fortunately, by twisting around, the stroke was not forceful enough to sever his arm from his shoulder, yet it was enough of a blow to render his arm useless for battle.

The recognition of how serious his wound was flashed through his mind, but then he pushed the thought away because the foul creature was attacking again. Additionally, it was being joined by another one. Shifting his sword to his left hand Galadhion took a deep breath. He clenched his jaw, pushed the searing pain radiating from his wounded arm to the back of his mind and directed a defiant gaze at his attackers.

Was this the moment he would die? Alright, then it would be so, but not without sending these vile beasts into the abyss first. To his surprise he managed to stab the first orc through the chest, splattering him with stinking black blood. Yet, he was unable to prevent the stroke of the second orc with only one arm in use.

He briefly thought of his father and his brothers and for a short moment he bitterly regretted not seeing his baby brother grow into manhood. Already dizzy from blood loss he sank to his knees unable to raise his sword again. His last gaze was directed at the falling sword of his opponent coming towards him.

 

…………………………………

 

Elladan cried out in surprise when Elrohir was forcefully pushed against him from behind. As always the brothers fought back to back to use their skills to maximum advantage. Shocked Elladan turned fearful that his brother had been wounded again but Elrohir was only doubled over from a punch to his middle.

Elladan made quick work of the orc which had attacked his brother. He had no time to kneel down and help Elrohir back on his feet before another orc attacked. With relief he saw that Elrohir had come to his feet again, yet he could not feel his brother close and he did not hear him fighting.

He turned sharply again after dispatching another orc and looked bewildered at Elrohir who was gazing upwards with a vacant expression on his face.

Elladan raised his sword to block an advancing orc and was just about to shout at Elrohir to concentrate on the fight when the orc crumbled to the ground with an arrow sticking out of his back.

Now Elladan’s expression mirrored his brother’s after he directed his gaze towards the top of the ravine. He could not believe his eyes. There, to the left and right of the gully, stood many elven warriors with bows aiming and firing at the orcs running around in fear and confusion.

Elladan blinked. He wasn’t able to count the many archers but he estimated that at least three hundred warriors were standing there making quick work of the orcs. The dead bodies were already piling in the ravine and the brothers had to retreat to higher ground.

As they retreated they collected their dead and wounded comrades, still shaken by the unexpected, yet most welcome fact that reinforcements had finally come.

 

……………………………………

 

“I’m dead?” Galadhion croaked when he opened his eyes. Despite blinking rapidly he was not able to bring the blurred face in front of him into focus. The only sensations reaching his muddled brain were that he was lying on something remotely soft and the merciless throbbing pain still radiating from his right arm.

“No, you are very much alive, my friend and I’m eternally grateful for that,” Elladan replied and now Galadhion was able to recognize his friend. The intended reassuring tone did nothing to camouflage the worry in the older twin’s voice. Galadhion was reminded that Elladan was not only a warrior but a skilled healer as well.

Galadhion briefly closed his eyes in a vain attempt to cope with the pain but opened them again quickly when a thought struck him. With a quick look around he saw that he was lying on a pallet within a tent. His last thought had been of a sorely outnumbered and desperately fighting group of elves. How was it that he had been rescued?

“What about the orcs…how about…?” he asked and struggled to rise. With a cry of pain he sank back onto the pallet as the searing pain nearly catapulted him back to unconsciousness.

Faintly he heard quick steps coming up to him and a pair of hands restrained his upper body.

“Commander, you should rest. Much effort was spent to keep you alive. Do not ruin our work now. You will be told everything later.”

Galadhion forced his eyes open again. This was a voice he had not heard in a long time. The authority and commanding tone could only belong to one elf and this could only mean one thing; the warriors from Imladris had arrived.

When he looked into the blue eyes of the Lord Glorfindel, Galadhion could only swallow. The Master of Imladris had not only sent his warriors just in time but with them had come one of the most experienced fighters in Middle earth.

“Close your mouth, Captain and make good use of the time to rest. The situation is under control. You can be sure that we will take care of whatever is necessary until you are back on your feet.”

Only now Galadhion became aware that another firm hand was holding him down on his cot. He slowly turned his head towards another voice he knew as surely as that of Glorfindel’s and again he did not trust his eyes. Kneeling next to his pallet was another unmistakable elf who was instantly recognizable to all who had seen him once. Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien smiled down at him and Galadhion had no remorse in giving in to the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness.

 

 

To be continued…………….

 

 





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