As Anorast and the knights reached the boats the bulky Beornlings were already loading cases of arrows to take to Laketown. As per his earlier instructions, the arrows were being stowed anywhere out of the way. Also being loaded was as much food as could be taken. Anorast felt that the people of Esgaroth were likely low on provisions, and past experience taught him that when taking an army somewhere, if one wishes to be welcome, they must have their own food. And in this case, enough extra that if need be, the survivors could have a good meal.

Anorast went up to the Beornling in charge of the boats, Birand. ?Is initial loading about finished??

?Yes, sir. All we need now is your archers.?

?They should be here soon.?

As Anorast watched for the Mirkwood detachment, he suddenly realized that Nin stood beside him. Quickly he turned and looked down at her. Feeling his movement, she looked up, a serious expression on her face.

?I have decided to go to Esgaroth with you.? With a relieved smile, Anorast nodded. Her presence would give Anorast another responsibility, but he much preferred having to watch over Nin from close by than worry from afar. Now he would know she was safe.

At the sound of marching feet Anorast looked up to see the elvish archers from Mirkwood arrive. Beckoning to Birand, Anorast met with Melithren, the Mirkwood captain.

?I and the other Mithril Knights will go on the first trip. Birand, load the archers, but leave us enough room. Once the archers are onboard, start packing in around them as many arrows and supplies as the boats will hold. We have two trips to take everything we need.?

Anorast turned to Melithren. ?You follow in the second trip. Same arrangement, bring as much stuff as the boats can take.?

According to plan, the Mithril Knights would be first off the boats in Laketown, so they were loaded last. There being, including Anorast and Nin, fifteen knights, sixty archers were loaded. As the knights waited, and more arrows were packed aboard, Anorast heard his name called from behind. Turning he saw Lord Elbren and his apprentice, Marius, striding quickly towards them.

Mirdain made preparations for his part in the upcoming battle. He gathered all of his weapons, armor, and other personal effects together, most importantly his old bow. He looked at it almost lovingly before slinging it over his shoulder. "Break not and miss never your target, friend" he whispered to himself.

When that was finished, he found Idril who was making preparations of her own. Then they went together to speak with Lord Edlund. They found him in his tent with his best soldiers around him.

Lord Edlund, is all in order? Are the Galadrim assembled? Mirdain asked.

They are ready. The cavalry all have their horses. Our stock of arrows has been emptied and all archers are armed. I understand that the Mirkwood Archers have supplied themselves?

Most likely, yes. They prefer and trust their own things, as I think anyone would.

Truly. Now, our forces are not assembled at this moment, but will be in formation with minutes of your word. I have already heard that we are to make up the right flank. Where exactly will the both of you be, and where exactly would you like me to be?

You should stay with the cavalry, Lord Edlund. You know them best. Lady Idril and I will be with the archers. We will be on the outside of the flank. Idril will protect us all with her veil, to give us utmost secrecy and perhaps even surprise, he said nodding to Idril. Idril added, Please do not move in too quickly, and try to stay in formation. It will be difficult enough already to cover such a large party with the veil.

Mirdain nodded again in affirmation and continued. Lord Edlund, after our first volley, I want you and your soldiers to follow with a volley of your own. Empty whatever you have with you, little though it maybe be. I am hoping to confuse them. To accomplish this in the most effective way, you will have to go in dismounted. Can you do this silently?

I think so, though it will be difficult. Our horses obey their masters' wills better than any I know, save perhaps the best of Rohan.

Idril added, The veil will soothe the horses as well. You should not find it difficult to lead them in silently.

Good, then all is in order, Mirdain pronounced. He and Idril then went to find Elbren and learn the status of the other parties to the battle. Along the way, they passed by Alandriel. Mirdain called to her,

Whither would you go, Lady Alandriel?

Alandriel seemed a bit startled, but turned toward them and recovered. Whither would you go?

Mirdain laughed. Well, I did ask first, but that is no matter. We go to battle, on the right flank, but first to Lord Elbren for last minute council. You would be welcome.

In that case, I thank you, she laughed in return. It seems that I am also going to Lord Elbren, at least.

Well that is a start, returned Mirdain. The company continued toward Elbren's tent.

It was late in the evening when Bryttar and Elenath finally pulled into to the campsite. Their journey had been slow since they had traveled by wagon from the MK Guild house. Before they had departed, Elenath had decided that more arms would be needed for the upcoming battle and was able to secure a wagon to haul them in. Once Bryttar had heard of her plan he willingly offered his assistance and they loaded up several necessary weapons along with more arrows until the wagon could hold no more.

The two seemed to go unnoticed as they entered the camp until an official looking man stopped them and inquired as to who they were and what they had brought. Elenath gave the man a quick explanation, and he then directed the wagon over to an area where other weapons and supplies had recently been unloaded.

Just as Bryttar and Elenath were just getting off the wagon a young knight ran up to them asking if they were Mithril Knights as well as archers. When Elenath answered yes, the elf and the Rohirrim were quickly informed that some boats were leaving for Laketown soon and Anorast was asking for any extra knights to join them. Then he hurried away before they could respond.

?It looks like some things are beginning to happen tonight.? Bryttar stated to Elenath who nodded in reply.

Suddenly the two were surrounded by five elves that had been sent over to help unpack the wagon. Quickly the seven of them unloaded the crates and stacked them according to their contents. When all was done, the horse and cart were quickly taken away and the remaining elves moved on intently to their next duty at hand.

The Rohirrim and the elf briefly discussed who they should seek out next, Lord Elbren or Anorast but Bryttar felt it was best to let Anorast know as soon as possible that he would be traveling with him, then he could seek out the elven lord. Elenath agreed to go with him since she knew the way to the boat docks. It was a short time Anorast and Nin came into view and the elf and Rohirrim made their way over to them.

?Have you seen Lady Rholarowyn ? should she not be here by now??

Alandriel looked up to Tallain, concern now clearly painted on his face. She shook her head: ?I do not know. I have not seen her since Mirkwood. I hope she is well.? Tallain nodded. ?Which party will you join, Tallain? Will you stand with us on the left flank as Lord Elbren has suggested??

It was Tallain?s turn to shake his head. ?No. I am more skilled with bow and arrow and hence will join Lord Anorast.?

Alandriel?s gaze wandered once more to the beautifully crafted bow the Easterling was holding and then nodded solemnly. ?I wish you good luck then, and may the Valar protect you,? she said before taking leave.

Meandering her way back towards Lord Elbren?s tent a voice suddenly rang out: ?Whither would you go?? Taken aback the Ranger stopped in her tracks and turned to face the caller. Recognizing Lord Mirdain in the company of Lady Idril, a broad smile spread over her face and, in a rare moment of almost merry banter she echoed his enquiry. Mirdain?s mirth and laughter in return was like a ray of sunshine bursting through a mass of gathering storm clouds and for the first time in a long while she could feel some warmth seeping back into her troubled heart. Falling in step with the two elves she replied to Lord Mirdain:

?A beginning it is indeed and my heart feels lighter knowing you and Lady Idril will be driving the right flank.? Chuckling once more she added: ?If all goes well, we might even meet in the middle.? Then her countenance turned more sombre once more. ?I don?t know what plans Lord Elbren has for me precisely. Should he see so fit, I might yet fight at your side.? Involuntarily her hand slid to the hilt of the Eket at her side. Before long she would find out

Entering the tent, Alandriel surveyed the scene just as Lord Elbren was speaking: ?.any news on the Knights of the Silmaril?"

While the Guild Master and Lord Erinhue talked, she moved closer to the healer who was tending the injured Thalos and whispered: ?He looks ill indeed. Is there anything that I could help you with?? The elf healer looked at her with the kind eyes so often a trademark of those truly dedicated to that profession: ?Any help is appreciated. You know?? ?Yes, I?ve some knowledge,? Alandriel replied. Unfastening her sword belt and dropping it to the side, she kneeled next to the prone dwarf who shot her a somewhat alarmed look. ?I am no elven healer my friend, by no means, yet lending a helping hand will get you taken care of even faster.? He growled something in return but soon the dwarf?s attention was fully riveted again on the proceedings in the tent.

Alandriel retrieved a small satchel of Athelas from her pocket and put a sprinkling of the dried herbs into a bowl of warm water that stood close by. The elf healer shot her a surprised glance: ?You carry Athelas?? Alandriel nodded. ?I always have a small supply and there is more in my travel pack. I will leave you all there is before we move out to battle. You will need it ? probably more so than I will.? The elf smiled and returned to her administrations.

Some wounds looked deep and nasty, yet the dwarf barely flinched as both women tended him. With an enquiring look, the healer handed Alandriel a needle with a strand of fine hare gut and, nodding, Alandriel took it gently from the lady. Her eyes grew wide: she could but admire its delicacy yet toughness. Yes, she had suturing needles of her own, even one made from rare and much cherished Mithril like the one she held now. And yes, she had learnt how to produce fine yet strong thread that would dissolve naturally during the healing process. Yet what she had been handed just now was of such quality only elves could produce. The healer noted her hesitancy and gave her an encouraging nod to proceed just as Lord Elbren said, addressing Lord Erinhue and his trainees:

?"I cannot read minds like the Wise, but I can see courage and hope in each of you. I regret that you have come to us in such a time, but we must also trust that the Valar still work with us and sends to us what we need in times such as these."

?The Valar indeed do send us to what we need? mused Alandriel. Thalos also reacted to that statement and despite his pain propped himself onto his elbows and then spoke, upon Lord Elbren?s prompting, about the significance of the Sickle.

Alandriel listened. ?The Red Hammer then really has something to do directly with the Sickle?? She wondered silently, but, not having enough information at hand to fully understand the implications behind Thalos?s discourse she let the thought go. With a grunt Thalos settled himself again and the healer held out a strong smelling liquid for him to drink. ?I won?t need it,? was all he said before closing his eyes and setting his jaw. ?Darfs! They are ever so tough,? the healer smiled, ?let us do it quickly then.?

A few minutes later, the deepest gashes had been closed and as they cleaned the last of the blood away, Thalos gave a deep sigh.

?With such stamina and resolve, Master Dwarf, you will be up and running again before the night is out.? Alandriel?s light-hearted comment was only acknowledged by another grunt. She exchanged a smile with the healer as she put the tools away.

Seeing that Lord Elbren was eager to leave, Alandriel stood and while she refastened her sword belt she asked:

?My lord. I?m a skilled fighter as well as a healer. I can be as much use to you in either capacity. I know you have a great number of fighters at your disposition but I don?t know how many healers you have in your command. Would you have me fight, either at your side or with Lord Mirdain? Or would you rather have me stay behind and tend to the fallen? I trust your judgement and will subject myself to your wishes.?

Standing relaxed, her eyes clear and open she waited to hear his wish.

As Alandriel wished him well in his plan to join Lord Anorast at the boats, Tallain felt a stab of sorrow ? he wondered whether they would ever meet again, given the fortunes of battle so often changed the lives of those involved.

Sighing, the Easterling hefted his bow and with a last backward glance at his horse, he took his bag and weapons to where the other Mithril Knights had gathered, to await the elven commander?s arrival. As Anorast approached, Tallain could sense the honour and duty surrounding the elf. Fighting his gift, he forced the images and senses surrounding the Knight and threatened to cloud his vision. He told himself sternly that this was no time for visions, he needed to focus on the task at hand.

The elf addressed him courteously, not flinching at the expectation of having a hated Easterling in his band, although the captain of the Mirkwood archers gave him many sidelong glances of disdain and hatred.

These Tallain allowed to wash over him ? he was so used to the Westrons attitudes and anger at his presence that he now did not allow himself to be upset by their looks and words ? such would only serve to distract him from the upcoming battle, Following the other Knights towards the boats, the young Easterling thought about his path to this point, about the many looks of hatred, of the many times he had been cast out from a team of mercenaries without his promised pay. But then he balanced all of these with the single offers of friendship he had experienced in the past few months, from Rho, Bryttar, Elbren and even Alandriel. He felt, in some strange way, that he belonged here and that this would prove to himself once and for all that he was supposed to have taken this chosen path, that he had been right to leave his lands, his family and his heritage all those years ago.

As they waited by the boats, Tallain felt himself focus further inward, listening to his instincts as he ran his hand up and down the carvings on the bow that he had chosen from the Armoury.

Looking up, he saw a familiar figure approach the boats and called out a greeting to the young Rohirrim knight ?Hail Bryttar- it is good to see you. I trust you journeyed well ..?

Tallain leapt to his feet and bowed to the lady elf accompanying Bryttar, who he recognised as the Master of Arms from Mirkwood. ?And greetings to you too my Lady Elenath. I am honoured to be able to offer my services to the Lord Anorast and it is most gracious that I am in the company of such honourable knights.?

According to plan, the Mithril Knights would be first off the boats in Laketown, so they were loaded last. There being, including Anorast and Nin, fifteen knights, sixty archers were loaded. As the knights waited, and more arrows were packed aboard, Anorast heard his name called from behind. Turning he saw Lord Elbren and his apprentice, Marius, striding quickly towards them.

"Suilad," Elbren surveyed the scene before him, letting his eyes rove over the packed boats and then out across the lake, towards the darkness that was now Laketown.

"They burn no lanterns at night," someone close by observed.

"No," Elbren said simply and quietly.

"Do you think that any yet live?" asked one of the Beornlings.

"I do," Elbren replied, and then pointed, "perhaps your eyes cannot see it, but I see the smoke from at least three fires burning in huts. The Laketown folk light no lanterns or torches, but some yet live and are building fires against the cold."

"Could it be smoke from a burned hut?"

"Nay, these huts are in tact," Elbren shook his head.

"I see them, too," Anorast spoke.

"How soon do you depart?" Elbren asked the Elven Lord.

"Soon, very soon."

"Will you be able to make two trips?" Elbren walked to the prow of one of the longships and admired the carved creature that adorned it.

"I cannot yet say," Anorast replied.

"Do not risk it unless you are sure," Elbren cautioned, "send word if you can, but again, do not take great risk lest the need be great. The dawn is only a few hours away now....tomorrow eve, when the Star of Earendil rises and is visible in the East, begin your assault of arrows upon the Red Hammer. Our flanks will soon join you and pin them in on three sides. Once they start moving towards the center, ceasefire on your volleys with them and turn your attentions to retaking the Laketown Bridge. Do not risk opening the gates until you see that we have converged fully on the main force." Elbren paused for a moment, "if all goes well, ere midnight tomorrow, Laketown will be freed."

"Prisoners?" Anorast raised an eyebrow in question.

"Only if they surrender...and I suspect that the surrender of the Red Hammer will be spoken in blood," Elbren looked grim, "seek the Guild House as well, Anorast. You should find supplies and our armoury there....if it is still standing. Some of the buildings in the Northwestern sector looked burned and broken to my eye--"

"--and mine."

"Aye....yet, if the Guild House is there, you will find it a good headquarters and source for armour and weapons."

"We will seek it."

"Good," Elbren paused, "three trumpets will sound our retreat, if it comes to that. Two trumpets will sound our victory and taking of the field. May the Valar watch over you."

"And the Sickle?" Anorast asked the question that neither of them really knew the answer to.

Elbren's eyes moved until he found Nienor-Niniel close by; he shook his head, "She will know better than I."

********************************

Elbren, several of the Beornlings, and Marius watched as the longboats were rowed out towards the silent and dark Laketown. The moon would not rise for several more hours; Elbren hoped and prayed that Anorast and his party would reach Laketown undetected and be able to surprise the Red Hammer the following evening.

"If the Dwarves follow normal battle protocol," Elbren said as he turned and began to march back towards his tent, "they will harass and perhaps charge the Laketown gate tomorrow, but their camp looks rather settled in to me."

"Settled in?" Marius asked, keeping stride with his Mentor.

"Putting a town under siege is as much an attack upon the spirit and minds of the people and defenders as it is a blood battle," Elbren nodded, "if the Red Hammer truly meant to take Laketown, they would have sent some siege weaponry and right now would be bombarding the town with missiles and fire."

"Perhaps they have no siege weapons," Marius suggested.

"I cannot believe that any army would attempt to take Dale and Erebor without siege weaponry, Marius," Elbren almost scowled at the young Prince, "and if that's the case, then they've put it all to use in Dale. Which will make our approach there most interesting...but perhaps our task here will be that much quicker."

"Will they not see us tomorrow?"

"Only if they send scouts; we will have no fires during the day tomorrow. We will keep a close eye upon the Red Hammer, our friends the Beornlings will use their animal forms to keep our interest in the shadows."

They reached the outer perimeter of the camp then and Elbren spoke sharply to the guards there, "Close the perimeter. By dawn, no fires or torches. I want the outer perimeter silent and invisible until you hear otherwise."

"Yes, M'lord," the guard nodded.

"See that your entire garrison knows."

As the orders began to filter through the perimeter guards, Elbren entered the heart of the camp and made his way back to his tent.

"Marius," Elbren said as he sat back down at his makeshift desk, "see that the camp is aware that tomorrow no fires and no one leaves the camp except the Beornlings. We will meet mid afternoon, lay the final plans, and then move to our positions for battle with as much stealth as we can."

"Yes, M'lord, I'll do that now."

*******************************************

As the sun rose the next morning, Elbren stood in silence, staring out at the grey visage of Laketown...

...had Anorast and his team made it safely? What had they found?

...where was Rholarowyn and Jiyadan....

Elbren shrugged as he went over the battle plan once more...

With Lord Elbren?s last word regarding the Sickle, Anorast nodded, feeling Nin stand beside him. A potent weapon, but one Anorast felt they should not use unless greatly needed. Surprise was an important element, and if the Mithril Knights faced a greater force at Erebor the Sickle could be better used there.

Turning, Anorast saw that the boats were completely loaded, except for the Mithril Knights. Birand waved Anorast towards the first boat.

?We saved ya room on this one, Lord Anorast.?

?Thank you.?

Waving to the Mithril Knights, Anorast waited as they boarded the boat. With a final look towards Lord Elbren, with the prince of Rohan, Marius, standing beside the elf, Anorast followed Nin up the ramp. Nin beckoned him to the last open seat, between her and the Rohirrim knight, Bryttar. The easterling Tallain sat quietly at the end of the bench, with the elven woman Elenath on the other end.

Immediately after Anorast boarded, the Beornlings pushed the heavily laden boats out into the river. Oars were run out, and the force moved quietly down the river. The Beornling oarsmen, the same crew that stole the boats, seemed perfectly at home on the river, and very skilled at rowing quietly. Soon they had the three boats moving quickly past the sleeping camp of the Red Hammer.

Less than half an hour after getting under way, the boats came out onto the lake, and had a full view of Esgaroth. Anorast found his earlier thoughts were correct; the town was very heavily fortified, particularly from an attack from the lake. The entire town was protected by a heavy wood wall. From looking at a map of the town Melithren brought from Mirkwood Anorast knew there was only one opening, the tunnel leading from the river side of Laketown to the market pool in the center of the town.

Aware that unlooked for aid had before been thought of as the enemy, Anorast knew that the force had to contact the Laketown defenders before entering the tunnel. By prearrangement, the second boat went in close to the wall, and a rope and grappling hook were thrown over the top. A swift footed elf ran up the wall, and disappeared over the edge. Everyone in the boats held their breath. They were confident that Esgaroth was in friendly hands, but they did not know the situation. There were three signals they looked for: all clear, all lost, or if some of the town was occupied. If no signal came, they would turn back.

Sighs of relief broke out as a wave from the elf scout came; all clear. Quickly the Beornlings drove the boats into the tunnel. At the other end, the market pool was clear of boats, and moorage was immediately found for the boats. A small crowd of men awaited the force, cloaked against the night, dark to keep from being seen. As soon as the boat was close enough, Anorast leapt to shore. He knew that behind him the elves and their arrows would be unloaded as quick as possible.

Immediately a tall man came forward from the small group. On his back was a quiver with a few arrows left in it, and in his left hand he held a bow. Stopping in front of Anorast, he stuck out his right hand, empty, a sign of peace.

?So, you have come to fight these dwarves??

?Yes. We have sixty Mirkwood archers here, along with fifteen Mithril Knights, myself included.?

At his declaration, whispers broke out among the onlookers.

?Good to hear, good to hear! But you can do little to defeat the dwarves, and will die with the rest of us once our poor town dries out.?

?Your town shall not burn. Tomorrow night, the Red Hammer shall die. We are not the only forces that have come to help you.?

?That?s the best news I?ve heard since the siege began. I am Doric, commander of the defense of Laketown.?

?I am Anorast i Thrandir, Mithril Knight, commander of the troops assigned to help you.?

?How many have you brought, Lord Anorast?

?As I said, seventy five of us are here now, but our boats will make another trip, doubling our forces.?

?Your aid is much appreciated.?

?However, we cannot show ourselves until tomorrow night, when the full attack will occur. Are you provisioned well enough to survive the day??

Doric laughed. ?We?ve lasted this long, another day won?t make a difference.?

?How are your supplies??

?Food is getting scarce, as are arrows, but we are otherwise doing fine.?

?We brought plenty of food. No other special needs??

?None.?

Anorast nodded. Turning he looked over at the Beornling in charge of the boats. Catching the man?s attention, Anorast motioned to him, indicating that the plan was unchanged. Turning back to Doric, the elf cleared his throat.

?So, can my troops find places to stay during the day, out of sight? And perhaps beds. Also, we brought plenty of supplies and arrows, so we need places to store those till this evening.?

?There?s plenty of room for them.? Doric turned towards the crowd. ?Men, we?re getting reinforcements! Elves from Mirkwood!? At this, a muted cheer went up, most men only showing appreciation in their movements, and not their voices. ?But they need quarters. Please find housing for them, and for twice their number. Report to me if you can provide lodging.?

Turning back to Anorast Doric smiled. ?Just tell your elves to talk to me, and I?ll find them beds. As to your supplies, you see that building there?? Doric pointed to a large structure across the pool. ?That?s the great hall. It?s too strong to have burned down, despite repeated attempts by the dwarves. We?ll store your stuff there.?

Doric waved to several of his men. After a quick, quiet conversation, they walked towards the mooring of the boats, now almost empty, each waving over several other men. Soon they were moving the force?s supplies around the pool to the Great Hall.

?Now, as a newly arrived guest, I?m sure you?ll want a tour of our fine town.?

Anorast grinned. ?You could say so. I?d like to see the state of the place, particularly the Mithril Knight Guild House.?

Doric became grim. ?You won?t like what you see. No one was lost, but that quarter of town is mostly burned.?

?So I saw. I still need to see it.? Turning, Anorast waved the other Mithril Knights over. They quickly made their way over. It was a relief to have Nin close to him again.

?Lead on, Lord Doric.?

The commander led them up away from the pool, where the unloaded boats were already swiftly entering the tunnel, back towards the main camp. They were soon walking down the main avenue towards the gates of Esgaroth, now heavily reinforced with lumber, and barricaded with loose wood. Almost immediately after passing the gates they entered the burned part of town. The fires were dead, and the coals and ashes were wet with rain, but the destruction was devastating. The thick outer wall still stood, but the ramp that used to run below the top was now only a ruin of blackened supports and an occasional hanging board. Where the fires had burned hottest great holes showed the dark lake beneath them, and charred support poles. The group stepped cautiously around those reminders of how vulnerable the town was.

?I see no bodies,? said Anorast as they walked through the ruin.

?We?ve long been aware of the risk of fire. At the first sign of flame, we all helped evacuate this quarter. Shortly after that, the women and children left in our ships. We hope they made it away from the dwarves. The only deaths we?ve had have been from arrows, swords, and axes. Those bodies we?ve kept near the town hall.?

?Our army found many dead bodies, but none by the shore.?

?Some of our people chose to risk the land, and there were many families who farmed the shore. Peace made them bold.?

With a somber nod, Anorast fell quiet. After a moment he spoke again. ?So is that why we saw no boats in the market pool??

?Yes. We sent away as many as possible. The rest of us did not want to leave our town to burn undefended. We could not leave the dwarves to despoil our town.?

After a short bit, Doric stopped. They were in front of a large pile of charred wood and ash. ?This was the Mithril Knight Guild House, Lord Anorast.?

From behind the rubble came six cloaked figures. As they approached, the knights could see the cloaks were Mithril Knight cloaks, covered in charcoal dust. Quickly they stepped down to stand before Doric and the knights from Mirkwood.

?How goes the rest of the siege, Doric?? The shortest lowered his hood, revealing a heavy beard and long braided hair.

?We?re alive, Rolin. And we just got some new friends.?

?So I see. And Mithril Knights at that.? The rest of the strange knights lowered their hoods. Another one was a dwarf, three were men, and one was an elf.

?We?re part of a force that came from Mirkwood under the command of Lord Elbren, to defeat the Red Hammer.?

?It?s about bloody time Lord Elbren did something about them!?

?We?ve been a bit busy in the west.?

?And we?ve just been drinking tea over here, is that what he thinks!?!?

?Patience, sir knight. At least we?re here now.?

?True. I am Sir Rolin, my fellow dwarf is Borfin, the men are Alan, Rodnic, and Lorfin. The elf, from Mirkwood, is Alaras. We?re the guards of the Esgaroth Guild House. We don?t abandon our posts. When the fire came, we stayed to do what we could, and since then, we?ve defended what?s left.?

Anorast nodded. ?I?m sure Lord Elbren will be most grateful to hear that you survived. But it?s unfortunate that the Guild House is destroyed.?

?Only most of it.?

?Most of it?!?? exploded Doric. ?What are you talking about, you scoundrel??

?Something I wasn?t about to tell someone not a member of the Mithril Knights, Doric.? Turning to Anorast the dwarf continued. ?Yes, it looks to be a complete loss. However a few of us enterprising and free spirited knights decided to slightly rearrange the layout of the Guild House. What was once storerooms and the armory are now rooms for all of us. Private rooms, I might add.?

With a raised eyebrow Anorast asked the obvious question. ?And what happened to the stuff used to reside in those rooms??

With a cautious look towards Doric, Rolin replied. ?We relocated it.?

?Where

? Anorast asked with a smile.

?Fine. We built several rooms beneath the main level of Esgaroth. We?ve kept an eye out for leaks, but so far our carpentering has held up beautifully.?

?You built into the lake!?!?

?Doric, keep your voice down, mate! Of course we did. There?s plenty of room beneath your streets. And there isn?t much above. The Guild House was too cramped as it was, so we changed things.?

Turning to the fuming Doric, Anorast patted him on the back. ?Don?t you worry about it. Their secret may be your next meal.? Turning back to Rolin, Anorast continued. ?So, what do you have down there??

?The entire armory was moved down below, as was our all our food and drink. We?ve been living perfectly well, during what we?d come to conclude were our last few days.?

?Unfortunately we can?t offer much in terms of comforts for fellow knights,? said Lorfin, a tall young man with long dark hair. ?We do have room though, and you will be lodged in a Guild House, at least technically.?

With a smile, Anorast nodded. He looked around at the other knights, and they all nodded, with more than a few thinly veiled smiles. ?We?d be very pleased to spend our time here in Laketown with you gentlemen. I?ve got to continue inspecting the town with my new friend Doric here, but I?m sure most of the rest of my fellow knights will wish to get some sleep.? There were several enthusiastic nods near him. ?So if you could kindly show them your lodging, I?ll be back shortly after dawn.?

Turning to Doric, Anorast motioned for the captain to continue. As Anorast and Nin followed the commander, Anorast called back to the knights who remained: ?Don?t forget, we must not be seen until tonight! Be ready by sundown!?

Using long strides, Anorast caught up to Doric, and found the man muttering to himself. ?No wonder Raulf reported lowered revenue last month

?Lord Doric, you seemed a bit disturbed at Rolin?s revelation.?

?Disturbed! Those rogues are famous in Laketown. They do enjoy their drink, and I know exactly what they?ve got down there. Until not long ago, it?d be hard to enter the pub nearest that guild house without running into one of them. That?s the first time I?ve seen all six, completely sober.? Doric paused, with a cautious look at Anorast. ?No disrespect intended, Lord Anorast. Those guards are some of the finest fighters I know, and fine members of the Mithril Knights. They just enjoy a bit of fun when not on duty.?

?We understand completely.?

Leaving the northwest quarter of town, Doric led Anorast and Nin around the rest of town. Anorast judged the defenses to be sound. They had run into several sentries standing alert in the pre-dawn darkness, and he could tell that no one approached Esgaroth unseen. Indeed, the causeway and the gate was the only weak point, and the Laketown defenders had complete control over the situation. The dwarves controlled the bridge, but could not set foot near the gate for fear of swift death.

Striding down the ramp to the market pool, Anorast found the boats being unloaded. A quick look at the sky made Anorast realize that the second wave of troops was late. Light footsteps came to confirm that thought.

?Greetings, Lord Anorast,? said Melithren, captain of the Mirkwood archers. ?Birand and I decided there wouldn?t be time to row the boats back to camp before dawn, so my elves manned the boats ourselves. We took as long as we could, so we brought extra supplies and weapons.?

?It?s good to know I have all my forces here. And those boats may come in handy tonight.?

Melithren answered with a grin. ?Yes, I believe they will.?

?This is Doric, commander of the Laketown defenses. He?ll see that your troops are housed, and that the supplies are taken to the great hall. Let?s all get a good rest, and be ready right before sunset. Send word to your archers to assemble by the market pool at sundown.?

Melithren nodded. Accompanied by Doric, the elf strode off to see to his archers. Anorast and Nin were left standing alone.

?Well, we?d better go see what Rolin has waiting for us. I hope he?s got some good hot food!?

The group grew silent and all eyes focused on Lord Elbren as he took a seat at the table. A young man Telta did no know sat down next to him. Lord Elbren?s gaze turned to her and the other new Knights in Training. He introduced himself to them and Hue in turn introduced them.

Telta had met the Guild Master at the Mithril Knight guild house. It had been brief and she had not been in the best of...condition. But there had been no time then as the four of them Hue, Fala, Raghnildur and herself were soon leaving on a mission and she had not seen Lord Elbren again until now. Her appearance had changed for the better since then and perhaps he did not recognize her in her clean state. Yet as she watched him she did not think that his sharp eyes had missed anything.

He spoke of the battle plans and she listened intently noting the names of Lord Mirdain and Lady Idril who were in command and who would lead the attack from the right flank. Lady Tempest she already knew.

?I take it that all of you wish to stand with Erinhue and Agarark?" Telta voiced her agreement and she heard Fala as she too agreed. Grey eyes locked with sky blue ones as Lord Elbren looked at her. She did not look away as curiosity held her immobile until his gaze moved on to the next person. He spoke of their courage and hope and regret at the circumstances under which they found themselves. Telta did not regret her decision to come. It was help they needed and help she would give be it with bow or sword.

******************************

Telta sat with her back against a tree the first light of morning creeping into the sky. Sword in hand she took great care to clean and go over it searching for any damage not having the chance to do so properly after their encounter in Rhosgobel. Her bow and quiver, newly filled, were leaning against the tree beside her ready to go.

The camp was eerily quiet as everyone went about readying themselves voices subdued in the early morning hour. Many of those awake were busy readying themselves for the upcoming battle or having done so had helped themselves to a cold meal. A plate of bread and cheese barely touched lay on the ground beside her where she had set it finding that she did not have much in the way of an appetite.

Telta turned her head to look out over the water in the direction of Laketown where the archers had set off for wondering what they had found. Sliding her sword back into it?s scabbard Telta stood picking up her bow and slinging the quiver over her shoulder. Soon she thought, soon they too would be on their way.

The steady sound of the oars slipping ghost-like into the dark waters lulled Arwen into reflection as she gazed past the silent group of warriors surrounding her toward where dim, smoke rose into the air above Esgaroth. A fortuitous omen, a sign that the enduring spirit of Men still survived. The peredhel raised her face to the heavens and closed her eyes to bathe in the muted light of the moon,?May the grace of the Valar protect us all.? She thought of all those who had come to fight, how many of them wished even now to be in some other place; some other time? The yearning in her own heart told her all she needed to know, and she suddenly wished that she had not parted with her mother in such unkindness. If the Powers of Arda granted, she would be given the chance to make her peace

as for that, they would know soon enough.

She considered the ritual performed earlier with Erinhue?s blade, and her fingers still itched in memory of the blade she had touched so fleetingly. Although she had been grateful to be included in the ceremony, she worried at the momentary bleakness she had seen in the fathomless eyes of the Warrior Bard of Belfalas, before she had left under the orders of Lord Anorast to join the other archers in the boats. What dire circumstances had he encountered that he felt the need to request his friends to cut him down if the need arose? Arwen found her thoughts turning to Vanaladiel, and she wished she had chanced to bid luck to her newly found cousin

so many things left undone, and she could not live with the regrets should

Out of the corner of her eye Arwen saw a silvery shimmer above the water. Not a reflection of the moonlight. That she could have easily dismissed, if it weren?t for the faint prickling at the back of her neck. It seemed her ?ghost? had returned though nobody else seemed aware that anything was amiss and Arwen resolutely looked straight ahead, ignoring the so-called apparition. Still, she couldn?t prevent the tension that overtook her body, making her nerves vibrate like a tightly strung bow. Only one pair of eyes seemed to notice, a familiar gaze with a formidable and nameless power. The Easterling?s eyes flicked briefly to her face and then to over her shoulder where she knew the specter had appeared. She waited uneasily for a reaction but none came and she released a pent up breath when he returned to his own musings.

What had caught his attention, she wondered. If this thing that called itself her sire was indeed only a fever of her mind then how was it possible for the other to have seen it? The questions were superfluous for the apparition had disappeared as suddenly as it had come and soon enough the boat had reached its destination, the wood scraping softly against the sandy shore. In silence the newly initiated Mithril Knight followed those who were more experienced in unloading the boats of their provisions and arsenal. She watched from the background as the Elven lord who led them met with all those who remained to guard the city, her eyes darting to the faces of the armored men hoping to see one familiar face among them. But the striking features of her former Mentor Knight was not among those gathered and her despair grew, for as each moment without word from him lapsed more so grew the chance that it would never come.

Hefting as many packs filled with provisions that she could carry, Arwen followed the softly treading Knights to the fallen structure, which was all that remained of Esgaroth?s Guild House. They were joined, sooner than it seemed possible, by the Silvan archers bearing more rations and supplies and led to a place where they would be able to rest for the night. It was a ramshackle arrangement, but more than they had expected and she listened as the others spoke of how the Guild House guards had managed to save what they could. Brave folk, and a welcome addition to their party no matter how insignificant it seemed. Preparations and fortifications would begin early the next day and they would need all their energy to organize a suitable defense before sundown.

The setting sun, a euphemism if ever she?d heard one But time still remained and the hour had not yet come for the sun to set on the hopes of Men. After managing to eat enough to sustain herself, Arwen settled in a corner of the damp room, leaning her head against the wall and pulled her cloak more firmly about her shoulders. Her bow was strung, her arrows ready, her twin blades sharpened to fineness and even her being seemed to thrum with readiness. For now there was nothing else to do but rest her body and mind. Her verdant eyes stared blindly forward sleep would not find her tonight.

"It's time," Elbren stood and looked to Marius, "summon the Captains and Mithril Knights."

As the grey light of morning passed Vana washed up and stood looking into a looking glass there in her quarters. The girl looking back at her was not terrified but sad by the events unfolding about her. Her mind started to recall the events of the last few days.

Her joy at seeing her uncle again and hearing his voice call out her name. Then to discover she had a cousin who would be fighting this great battle with her, but sadly not beside her. Would the outcome allow for them to meet again on happier terms? She could only wish.

Turning from the looking glass and placing it back upon the lone table she reached for her shirt. Simple design but quilted for padded comfort. Clean fitted trousers lay upon the bed. She slipped these on and then pulled her black boots on. Standing from the side of her cot she reached out and touched the mail shirt that she was about to put on. Her mind made a mental note that it wasnt of fine material as she was used to wearing. Nothing like silk or the gowns from court. But suited for this task now at hand. Slowly she slipped it on over the padded shirt and straightened it down. Yes, it fit well enough. Then she reached over and grabbed her sword belt and strapped it to her side. She placed the daggar in her boot and strapped the other sword that she had received earlier on the other hip. She placed her hands on the hilts of the swords and knew they felt as comfortable to her hands as was needed and that their placement was in proper and easy reach. Then she reached for her quiver which she strapped on her back. She was beginning to look more like a warrior then a woman of royal blood, but that was the choice she had made for herself.

Before she left the tent she picked up her bow and admired it for the fine workmanship of it.

"Well dear friend we may not have much use for you this trip but I will not leave you behind. For we no not what fortunes remain to be." She almost whispered to her bow. "There may still be some use for you here."

With that she smiled and tossed the tent flap away, stepping out into the light where she quickly headed off to the tent of Lord Elbren as called.

?I thought I might find ya out here? Erinhue?s voice came to Telta before she actually saw the tall man striding towards her. He came up beside her and settled himself on the ground beneath the tree. Looking down he noticed the uneaten breakfast and nodded.

?Good thing I found ya , I got something ya might like.? With that he reached into a pocket in his cloak and took out two shiny ripe red apples. ?If ya don?t ask where I got them from I won?t tell the quartermaster that ya don?t like the bread and cheese.?

He tossed one of the apples and Telta deftly plucked it from the air. She turned it over once and the bit into it. She wanted to be polite but when she tasted the fruit she realized just how hungry she was and when it was finished she continued to pick at the bread and cheese on the plate.

Erinhue pulled another apple from his pocket, force of habit made him get one for Treble but his faithful painted stallion was stabled at the Splintered ChamberPot a long way away on the other side of Mirkwood Forest.

The two sat together looking out into the rapidly approaching dawn. They watched the sunrise and greeted its spectacular beauty with respectful silence. The first light of day had just cracked through the clouds when Erinhue?s voice broke the silence.

?I was just thinking of that day when you first slipped into the Lucky Fortune way back when. I saw something in ya then that made me want to help ya out. That?s when I asked you to stick around and I have never once regretted that.

I know a lot of people and a lot more people know me but there are not many that I count as friend not many that are still around any way. I wanted you ta know that you have always been one of the best.?

?Ya know? he began again after a long stretched out pause, ?there?s still time for ya to join one of the flanking assaults. They?re going to be cavalry actions so it might be a little safer than its gonna be down at the bottom of that box where Tempest?s squad is gonna be.? Erinhue stopped for just a moment but his voice was soft and quiet when he said, ?I don?t want ya to get hurt.?

Telta stared at him, not knowing what to say but before she could say anything at all the call came for all captains and Knights to report to Elbren?s tent.

It was still dark when Tempest had stepped from her tent, but she was restless and had not been able to sleep. There was a slight chill in the air, and a cold breeze stirred the leafy trees sending a shiver down her spine. She warmed her hands by a nearby fire, but avoided any conversation with the others who sat there. She always became rather contemplative before a battle and she didn't like to be bothered.

When the first streaks of light appeared in the sky, she returned to her tent and checked all her weapons and armor. When she was certain everything was in order, she took out her sword and ran her fingers against the cold steel. "Here we are again, Fury. Today you will taste blood again, though it is not often that you have tasted the blood of dwarves," she murmured softly. She sighed and placed it back in its sheath. She then picked up her helmet and examined it critically. It was not very well made and she chided herself for not getting a better one out of the Mirkwood armory before she left the Guildhouse.

As she stepped out of her tent, she saw that there were hints of red in the sky that clung to the edge of the wispy clouds. A Crimson Dawn. She tried not to think what that might mean for those in Laketown.

She was startled when she heard a voice behind her. It was young Marius, the king's son. Elbren was calling an assembly. She nodded and Marius continued on his way to spread the word.

So it began...

Hue joined her under the tree tossing her an apple. Telta bit into the sweet, juicy offering and sat down beside him polishing the fruit of in less time than it took for her to get comfortable once more. They sat together in companionable silence until he spoke. His words brought back memories of their first meeting and she looked back on it with fondness and gratitude that he had not turned her out.

She looked over at her friend, her mentor and Mithril Knight. He was kind, caring and generous as she had seen on many occasions. He was witty and his sense of humour she did not think anyone could rival. Yet he could be deadly serious when need be. This she had witnessed herself and was glad to know she was on the same side as him and not against him.

?I know a lot of people and a lot more people know me but there are not many that I count as friend not many that are still around any way. I wanted you ta know that you have always been one of the best.? Telta had always been proud to call Hue friend and she was honoured that he too felt the same way.

But mere words seemed so inadequate compared to what she felt. And when she recalled Hue?s words to Fala ...?should it come to the very worst and I advance upon you,... kill... me if you can before I reach you." a coldness settled into the pit of her stomach with that one word. Telta looked up at the morning sky determined that if she could help it, it would not come to that.

Hue spoke again bringing her gaze back to him. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief the bread she had been nibbling on stuck in her throat. His wanting to protect her was kind but she was not about to join one of the other groups. And no amount of asking would change her mind. She was in this no matter the danger, no matter the outcome. Telta would have spoken her mind right then but his last words stopped her and she could only stare at him wondering how she had come to have such a caring friend as him. They were interrupted when word came for all knights and captains to join Elbren. Hue stood first and she then rose to her feet. When he would have moved away she gently laid her hand on his arm to stop him.

He looked at her and saw the stubborn set of her mouth. ?Hue you are a dear friend and I am grateful for your concern but I AM going.? was all she said and she gave him a small smile, squeezed his arm and walked passed him. There was a summons to answer and it would not do to be late.

Sleep had not taken Raghnildur that night, his time had been spent sharpening blades and polishing steel. Hours alone had he spent away from the fire, taking his blade through predetrmined paths of strike and counter. He had walked here and there in the encampment after Lord Anorast had taken his group to their post, rehearsing the battle's progress in his mind. Preparing himself, steeling himself for victory or death.

He had walked past Telta and Erinhue sitting against a tree, having muted discussion. All the other Knights were making themselves ready in their own fashion, and each face held a grave excitement for the coming onslaught. Raghnildur was unsure what each warrior had experienced on past battlefields, individually or as part of this group.

At last the man was able to seat himself and cease pacing around the site. He unsheathed his sword once more, and smiled at his reflection in the newly polished blade. This blade had been his ally in seven years' worth of parrying and thrusting, and he was certain it would not falter when he needed its strength the most. Laying the broadsword on the ground, he fastened his leather bracers onto his forearms, tightly fastening the straps. With a quick movement of his right hand, his borrowed dagger rang out of it holster and he once again felt the cool wood of the handle resting comfortably against his palm.

As he began once more to look at the orcish inscriptions on the handle, Lord Elbren's voice carried across the encampment as their captain spoke his order to Marius. Raghnildur replaced the dagger and then his sword at his sides, stood tall and began to walk toward his leader's tent. The call had come, for Lord Elbren had simply said "It is time."

As soon as Marius' eyes met with those of his mentor, he knew that he was in trouble. True, he had left without telling his master, but he had good intentions. Yet, before he opened his mouth, Elbren held up a hand to silence him.

"I know why you left, Marius. Do you have it?" The leader of the Mithril Knights looked intently at the youth, his eyes blazing, though his countenance was cool.

Marius nodded, knowing that any word he spoke could endanger his position. And how he would be laughed at if he returned home now, before earning any sort of honor. He would not be able to stand his father's look of disappointment, seemingly saying to him, "you will never be Marshal of the Riddermark. How could you be, when you could not complete such an easy task such as the one I placed before you?" How the other Riders would laugh and point at the failed younger son, the one would never be king.

Unconsciously, Marius clenched his teeth and fists, but this was not missed by the aquiline eyes of the Eldar.

Pulling back his royal cloak, the youth took the magnificent sword from his side, Elbren's sword reforged. Holding the blade flat upon his right hand, he held it up so that Elbren might see every detail.

"I aided the smiths with the work, for my father had me work with the very same elves to forge my own knife. It was not so much of a stretch to complete a sword. And rest assured that every detail was made as the original; the elves asked me to tell you this."

The naive boy smiled. He knew not how the former blade looked, but took it on faith that the elves knew, for they always knew such details.

Elbren nodded his satisfaction, but said nothing of the boy's involvement. "We must meet with the others now. And YOU shall stay nearer my side this time," he spoke, with only the merest hint of what in humans would be gruffness. In an elf, it could not be called such, but how does a boy interpret such emotions but in the way he knows and can compare it to--the emotions of men.

Up to the present

As Elbren and Marius entered the tent, the boy could not help but look in awe at the pale dwarf who lay upon a pallet. How had he been wounded? Where exactly were they headed? So many more questions entered his mind, but he kept quiet and observed the others around them.

When Lord Elbren nodded at him to light more lanterns, he did so willingly and without complaint. If this was the price he would have to pay to win glory and honor, the way to satiating his father's desire for further learning, so be it. He was accustomed to much more strenuous tasks, so these were of little concern to him.

He listened intently at the elven lord's left side. Everyone seemed so certain of what they were to do, except for the trainees of the bard, whatever-his-name-was. It was too hard to try to keep the names straight of all the bards who wandered and surely this one was no different than the others, except that he fought. But what sort of warrior carried a harp? Marius barely kept from snickering at this thought. Yet he empathized with the trainees, for he was told only to keep at the heels of his master, as though he were some purebred canine.

The Elf Lord and his Apprentice watched as the first longboats left for Laketown, silently at first, but then Elbren broke the dark silence. They spoke of what might have become of the people before them and Marius wished to kick himself a few times during the conversation, for saying things that he knew were stupid. Of COURSE an army that attempted to take Dale and Erebor would have siege weapons. But his mind was more concerned with what role he was to play and that took his concentration away from the conversation. At the end, he was indeed given a task for the moment, to see that the camp knew that no fires would be permitted, lest they give sign of their presence. And he would indeed make sure that none left the camp, save for the Beornings.

************

Sleep did not find Marius that night, for he made certain that no fires burned and that no one left the camp, true to his word. Yet even after his tasks were complete and all were duly warned, excitement left his body too tense for slumber. What would come in the daylight? What was he to do?

Before he knew it, a greyness came into the sky and the night faded. Looking into the heavens, he wondered how many of the people of Laketown had lived to see this light, though guarded and not magnificent was the sunrise. He sang softly,

Lost in the ashes of the sunrise

they long for the ruddiness of life

Pleading for Eru to clear their eyes

And for breath to diminish their strife

Moaning to the heavens...

These ephemeral thoughts and words were dashed away by Lord Elbren's presence and for a moment, Marius was irritated, though the feelings were truly for his father, who discouraged his son's artistic and sensitive side. He knew, though, that this was not the time to wax poetic, but the time for action that merits songs.

"It's time," Elbren looked to Marius. "Summon the Captains and Mithril Knights."

Marius nodded, adjusted his boots quickly, and ran off to find those who did not go with Lord Anorast.

He found the Bard and another elf whose name he did not know beneath a tree. "Fellow warriors, Lord Elbren requests your presence. It is time." He bowed sharply and went to find the next Mithril Knight.

The one they called Tempest, the one who gave the youth chills, had barely stepped out from her tent when he arrived there. "Lord Elbren requests your presence. It is time." Here too he was the polite gentleman, but then turned on his heel as youth are apt to do, and continued on his way.

A few had apparently already heard the word, for they instinctively moved toward Elbren's tent. Soon, Marius had spoken with each of the Captains and the Mithril Knights, returning to Elbren's tent himself. But before Elbren could speak to the others, Marius asked if he might have a moment's conference with him.

"Lord Elbren, I can pretend no longer. I do not know what plans you have for me. What am I to do upon the battlefield? I have been given no clear position and I would wish for a clarification of what I am to do. I fear that you will give duties to the others and keep me from fighting. I CAN fight and have done so on my homeland."

Keeping his face stolid, Marius' eyes betrayed his pleading thoughts. But why should Elbren NOT give him a position? he asked himself. A sneaking suspicion had entered his mind a while back that his father had asked Elbren to keep him from fighting, perhaps to keep him from easily winning a position and the honor that his father desired he have before becoming the Marshal. It was even more suspicious that no one had asked what he COULD do, so he was mostly certain that he was simply being considered a tag-along.

"The Red Hammer remains in these positions," Elbren pointed to the hastily drawn map upon the table. "Their main force is here, back and away from the bridge to Laketown, while they maintain camps here and here to harass the Laketowners as they attempt to make the gate."

The Elven Lord looked up at the Guild members and battle captains gathered in the tent, "My battle group will move out first and move to a position just west of the main encampment and lie in wait for the rising of Earendil's star. Tempest's group will move next and take position back in here with the bridge to your North. Mirdain, you move in from the East. Wait for Anorast's first volley of arrows from Laketown. Then, we will let fly as well from mine and Mirdain's groups. Tempest will hold position and not engage until the Red Hammer has been driven into the noose. When we move within range of our weapons, ceasefire and go hand to hand. Once we are in position on all three sides, form shield walls."

Lord Edlund, Battle Captain of Caras Galadhon, spoke up, "And the horses?"

"When we lose the advantage of maneuvering, send them from the battle and wade in," Elbren replied, "we will need them to reach Dale and the Lonely Mountain, and in close quarters, the Red Hammer will hamstring them for certain."

"Aye," Edlund nodded.

"Any other questions?" Elbren asked.

Far to the north, a shadow moved silently in the deepening violet of dusk. The sun had almost set when the figure reached the summit of the mountain pass and for a brief moment was exposed to the empty vale below. Had anyone been there in that moment, they would have witnessed a sable-clad Knight on a black-as-jet stallion crossing from the darkening east of Hithaeglir, over the shoulder of Mount Gundabad and onto its western slope, which was now warmed by the day?s final rays. With a tiny nudge, the noble steed began to descend; and the R—quen lifted his helmless head to see, even at that great distance, the glint of metal amongst the long-abandoned ruins that were his destination: Carn-Džm.

With her usual silence, Nienor-Niniel had visited the city and the guild house, following Anorast almost like a shadow, without barely saying more than the words of welcome.

The decision to follow the elf on the boats, she had taken it rather with her heart than really thinking what she could do in Laketown and how she could be of any use. And now wandering through the ruins of the city, she wondered if she had been right - they needed keen eyes and sharp bowstrings, and none of this was her best talent. But now she was here, and she would find her place, and if it was only that she should not hinder in the battle, it would be her role.

Well, we?d better go see what Rolin has waiting for us. I hope he?s got some good hot food!?

Nienor was not even surprised, that the very words could have been her thoughts - she remembered the blizzard when they had found each other and her impression then: Your world breaks into pieces: - eat first, think later...

But she shook her head: ÇI would want to go back to the boats and talk to the other Mithril Knights about what we have seen and heard. Also, I fear that Tallain as an Easterling might not be welcomed as openly as he should be as a Mithril Knight.È

Deep in her heart, Nin had never forgotten the constant rivalry between Bardhwyn the Daleswoman and Matrim, the Easterling when she had travelled with the Scribe to Mirkwood, years ago. She was not sure if it had been the sign of a more general aversion towards Eaterlings. It could not hurt to check on them, and their cohesion facing an ennemy would be better, the better they knew each other.

Anorast slightly frowned his eyebrows, and Nin wondered if he only wanted to keep her at his side, or if he was worried by something particular. Ç I would have wanted you to go the armory before suset, you are so lightly armed and armoured only. È Nin could only smile at his request. Ç I am more heavily armed than anybody else in this city, and you know that. If I carry a bow or not will not make any difference... and for an armour - it would be hard to find any at my size, unless it had been made for a dwarf, and then it would be too heavy for me. Do not worry. My best protection is being small and swift. I was closer to death a few days ago than I am now, and I intend to the see the rays of the rising sun on the waves of the lake and the reflects of the mountain shimmering on it in the dawn. È Nevertheless, she promised to join him and Rolin again and to eat something, after having checked the boats and seen the other knights.

The air in the city seemed so tense, that Nin felt as if someone could cut through with a knive. The coming battle had already begun in the minds of the inhabitants and defenders, and every word that she caught in the conversations turned around it. Ç Injured - sharpened - goal - target - soldier È.... The stroke of the swords would indeed rather be the end of this inner battle than the start. War was not only fought on the field, but as much in the hearts and minds of those who had to live it.

Before she took her way to the port, Nin turned back one last time. Anorast was still standing there, tall among the other knights and even if she had to pinch her eyes to see him neat - definately she would never be a good archer - she saw his silver hair floating in the wind from the lake, he was still discussing, and although she could not hear a word, Nienor was sure that he would listen to all in his serious way, weigh every word, take care of every detail. His features were concentrated and calm, and if he felt any nervosity, it did not transpire in his gestures, which were composed. Never would she reach that level of self control.

?Know no fear, my lady. Against any foe I shall protect you.? he had said to her, but Nienor did not feel any fear for herself. But fear for him, for the risk that he might take out of bravery or sense of honor, or worse of all, for her.

Thoughtfully, she walked quickly now and reached the boats in a blink. They seemed mostly decharged, and in the comings and goings Nienor recognised Tallain, his bow and quiver fixed on his back, standing close to the quai. She feared now that she had been right and that maybe he had not been welcomed as the others knights had been. Easterlings still were misstrusted in most of Middle Earth - and to her own regret Nin must admit that for most of them it was rightful. But Tallain was a Mithril Knight, he did not have to proove his allegiance.

Nin lightly touched his shoulder, and Tallain turned on his heal, looking down on her. Ç Are you surveying the unloading of the ships? È she asked softly, wondering how to start the conversation without being intrusive. After all, maybe everything had been done for Tallain as it should have and she was imaginating attitudes that did not exist. If all was in order, they could just walk to the guild house together and exchange some words - if not Tallain should know he could trust her.

Looking at the ship and at the water beyond it, the shimmering, glittering surface like a diamond, the next question came to her mind, but she could not tell wherefrom: Ç Are you afraid? È

The dark warrior sat huddled close to the mouth of a shallow cave on the western slope of Mount Gundabad, his midnight blue cloak pulled in close about his shoulders for warmth. He dared not build a fire, for this region had come to life again, the foul denizens that once inhabited this land had emerged from their holes, looking for a new blackhearted master. Bereft of elven sight and hearing, he could neither see nor hear them from his vantage halfway to the valley floor from the high pass, but he knew they were down there, lurking in the dark. The land of Angmar was once again crawling with the dregs from beneath the Misty Mountains.

The wind had shifted after sunset and now a thick pall of acrid black smoke hung over the valley as Dirk looked west, so that as soon as the moon showed its face over the mountains, it was hidden again, forbidden to light the forests and glens and foothills below.

The young Knight stared out into the blackened void; and his thoughts drifted back to the journey he had recently undertaken. Although it seemed ages ago, it had only been ten days since he left the maiden Arwen. He had sent her into Mirkwood, to seek the other Mithril Knights and continue her training. Perhaps by now, he thought, she may have been allowed to witness the Gilliath Londe. He smiled as the thought crossed his newly fluid consciousness. He had done the right thing, he was sure of it. Better an awkward departure and short-lived disappointment than two deaths (his and the possibly immortal half-elf). She had been hurt emotionally, to be sure; but she was alive and maybe now a Mithril Knight in her own right, fighting alongside Lord Elbren and the others to regain his childhood home, Esgaroth. He smiled again.

It had not been an easy decision. Eager to gain good standing amongst the Mithril Knights, Dirk had volunteered to mentor one of the new crop of petitioners, even though he himself was new to the Order. Amazingly, Elbren granted him the opportunity. Despite strange goings-on both internally and with the war against the Red Hammer, Dirk was genuinely excited for the rare chance he had been given: first a Knight, now a mentor.

But then came the news that Dale, Erebor, and Esgaroth were besieged by the Red Hammer. Lord Elbren had mercifully sent the raven-haired knight in that direction with the shards of the Arkentstone, for the elven Lord must have known that nothing would keep Dirk from his homeland while it was being assailed. Nonetheless, Dirk was torn by a decision he had to make. He was fully aware of his own youthful impetuousness, and knew full well that he would plunge headlong into the battle, regardless of the consequences. Lord Elbren would want him to sneak past the siege engines and the encampments of the enemy and gain access to the King under the Mountain. His duty was to return the Arkenstone to the Dwarves and help them until the Knights and their reinforcements arrived. He knew, though, even as he crossed the Great River, astride Endl—m‘ abreast with Arwen?s mount, that he would not simply ride past Laketown while it burned. Even as they sped in a wide arc, sweeping around the southern eaves of Greenwood the Great, he resolved that he would probably die trying to find his father and brothers. He would most likely perish without accomplishing the mission he was charged with.

Dirk reached into the saddlebag that lay beside him and retrieved the shards of the Arkenstone in their leather bag. He hefted its weight as he puzzled over whether the shattered stone yet held any power. Would the filthy creatures lurking below still prize what was once the greatest treasure among Dwarves? He replaced the leather bag and buckled his saddlebag securely once again. He returned his gaze to the utter black of the winter night and returned to his reverie.

He knew that he would have to make a decision: turn Arwen away and risk punishment for dereliction of duty by the Mithril Knights, or drag her into his battle, to a death he felt was certain would come. He realized however, that whether he helped Arwen complete her Knight in Training mission or not, he would most certainly and willingly turn aside from his charge, the delivery of the Arkenstone. With that, the decision was made and Dirk resolved that his fate should not be shared by the peredhel.

Dirk sent Arwen away after the second night of their wild ride east and north. He sent her northwest to seek the elves of Greenwood and therefore gain escort to the Guildhouse near Thranduil?s hall, where she could await those of the Order who were now mustering for war.

He then turned the giant mearas-bred stallion due north and let him loose to gallop toward Dirk?s doom with abandon. For two more days he rode, stopping only briefly to allow Endl—m‘ to drink or graze, until he came to the River Celduin and slowed. He veered west, toward the forest, in search of a place to cross. On the bank of the Running River, four nights from Caras Galadhon and two since sending Arwen away, the lone warrior was waylaid by squat orcs of a breed he had never seen.

They ambushed Dirk, cornering him with the swift, deep river at his back. But he had an advantage: he was on horseback. He drew Neleg Amlug and slew the first two before they even raised a weapon. But in an instant, four replaced those two. These he hewed with relative ease from his mount, though one managed to reach him, clutching, trying to unseat the Knight before Dirk freed his head from the constraints of his neck. But it was no use; this wave was replaced by another, and still another. Endl—m‘ fought, too, killing many with his mighty hooves. But they were too many. Too many hands clutching at rein and harness. Too many notched and rusty blades slashing at him. Too many ghastly orc faces beneath dinted and ill-fitting helms. Dirk was dragged from his seat. Endl—m‘ screamed and bucked.

The world went black

Mirdain said to Elbren simply, "I understand. We will not fail." Then he nodded in the direction of the coming battle. "We will come upon them like a storm, relentless and terrible. If we are swift and efficient, I believe we can rout them, and the numbers disadvantage will not matter so much."

"Just don't get too far ahead of the center. The more united we are, the stronger, as always," replied Elbren.

"Too far ahead? What do you take me for?" Mirdain said with a smirk. His eyes twinkled a bit then from the light of the crystal he always wore. "No, I will make no mistake. If the Red Hammer has not learned to fear me yet, they will."

Tallain was quiet and detached in the boat on the journey towards Laketown. His senses could tell that all around him anticipation, fear and concern, both for themselves and for the possible situation they would find in the town, were overwhelming the Knights and those travelling with them.

Fingering the crystal that Alandriel had given him, he offered up a silent prayer of protection to his people?s god of War, grimacing as he did so for his own beliefs were now so far removed from those he had grown up with .. but habits die hard and in the imminent darkness of the coming conflict, the Easterling felt there was nothing to gain by ostracising any potential deity !

As the boats moved through the tunnels and finally landed at their destination, Tallain leapt up and assisted the Beornlings in unloading the contents. He saw Lord Anorast depart with one who he suspected was the leader of the human forces in the town. Once the boats were unloaded, they were silently moved back into the tunnel, and Tallain and the other knights were left on the waterside, with their equipment. He felt suddenly awkward. The other knights seemed to know each other, gathering in small groups to talk in low voices, exchanging opinions and thoughts on the upcoming battle.

Although the Easterling had spoken with Bryttar, he felt almost isolated in his differences, from all of these imposing Knights around him. For the first time he wondered what he was doing here.

Through his uncharacteristic melancholic reverie, a clear, calm and beautiful voice cut into his thoughts. Tallain rose to his feet as he recognised the Lady Nienor-Niniel, who had arrived with Lord Anorast and rarely left his side. At her question, Tallain felt even more awkward, as though his feelings of inadequacy had been sensed by her, and she was taking time out of what was likely a very busy and demanding time, to ensure his well-being.

Bowing his head he was about to respond when her eyes took on a wistful look, and without thinking almost she asked him ?Are you afraid ?? .. the quiet words, were like a hammer to the Easterling?s soul. He felt it then, the gnawing in his gut, that he had been ignoring, and could sense a degree of this in most of those surrounding him. In some it was simply anticipation, but for many there was a darkness that he was sure they were trying desperately to ignore.

He stood up and bowed slightly to her, surprise showing on her delicate features ? here was one who was not used to respect, not used to obeisance, as he was not.

?My Lady you are as perceptive as you are beautiful. And I mean that with the greatest possible respect for the position and the power that you hold. Indeed, I am afraid. It would be unwise for me, as a stranger to this conflict, to these people and to this battle, not to feel afraid. But I also have trust and faith in the leadership of the Lords Anorast and Elbren, and in this I must place my hopes for a positive outcome to the battle?.

She turned to him, her brilliant eyes looking up into his, a clarity of thought and a wisdom showing well beyond her years. ?Tallain it takes great courage to admit fear. You should be proud of that.?

He bowed again at her compliment, but shook his head ?Nay my Lady, courage is not required, simply a capacity to be true to yourself, if that is what you feel. But I thank you for your words.? As he met her eyes again, he almost took a step back ? the strange pupils in her eyes met his once again and he was buffeted by a wave of emotions and feelings that emanated from her. Confusion, fear ? not of death but of living too strongly .. clearly there had been much pain and betrayal in her life. Love and admiration for her elven Lord. Concern for Tallain and for all the Knights .. but riding below these emotions was a strange feeling of kinship .. as thought she shared something with Tallain that even she was not aware of

Tallain disguised his confusion by offering to escort her back to her Lord, and after a slight hesitation, but noting that the others were moving as well, she agreed.

Hefting his pack and keeping the bow and quiver accessible, Tallain walked slowly with the beautiful, elusive lady.

?Sometimes, my Lady, the joys that life brings us can almost be as painful as the blows we are dealt.? He said quietly, as they walked back together amidst the chaos and debris all around them.

Nienor-Niniel stopped then, and looked at him .. her black shaped pupils scanning his eyes with an intensity that was unsettling. The Easterling lowered his eyes first, unwilling to meet the strength of her, and feeling his ?gift? stirring restlessly, wanting to meet the power that radiated from this fragile woman, with a blaze of its own.

Putting his hand in his pocket, he gripped the crystal and controlled the feeling inside him with far greater ease than previously. ?It is funny .. but I believe that you know what you say Tallain. Most people do not ? she trailed off, and then continued walking. He followed her, feeling the kinship once again, feeling the rise of power that pulled his own and hoping that she would talk to him once again

It was some time before she spoke and only once they had carefully approached the ruined Guild House.

"That's the spirit, Mirdain," Erinhue chuckled around the stem of his borrowed pipe. The bard leaned against a tent stake were he had been covertly watching an unusually silent Tempest. Sensing the scrutiny,Tempest turned towards him. Erinhue winked at her and continued speaking to Mirdain. " You just be certain ta leave a few for us waiting patient in the center."

"We will speak of your duties upon the field after I have spoken to my Captains," Elbren's eyes narrowed as he studied the Rohan youth. "That is, if you have the patience to wait that long."

Marius said nothing, but his eyes betrayed his impetuousness," I will wait then."

Elbren addressed his captains and then their battle strategy was once again reviewed. All were in agreement: If all went well, the Red Hammer would be weakened severely by dawn, perhaps even destroyed, or at least in retreat.

"Well," Elbren stood up from the map and looked around the room, "then the time has come. May the Valar watch over you and bring victory and justice to our cause. I shall eagerly await the battle and meeting you all upon the field. Namarie."

As the Captains and Guild members exited the tent, Elbren began to do his armour. He could sense Marius's growing impatience and annoyance even as he pulled on the ornately carved mithril bracers and buckled the leather straps.

"Marius," the Elven Lord said slowly, "why do you assume that you are here to learn of battle and war?" Elbren glanced at the youth, "I cannot think of a better place for a warrior to learn battle than in Rohan, can you?"

"We are proud warriors and skilled," Marius said defiantly.

"Indeed," Elbren now began to buckle his greaves, "there are no better warriors on horseback. So, surely, Marius, you have not been exiled with me to learn of the battlefield."

The Prince looked confused for a moment and said nothing.

"Middle Earth is changing, Marius This is the Age of Man. The North has long been neglected and even the distant North is far more dangerous than most imagine. The Mithril Knights went there last year, Marius, to Carn Dum in search of a power that had some had seen and felt. A power veiled in shadow."

Marius felt a chill crawl up his spine as outside, some felt a momentary coldness and the sun seemed to diminish ever so slightly.

"Sauron?" Marius whispered, licking his lips.

Elbren wriggled into his coat of mail and then motioned for Marius to hand him the midnight blue tunic that lay close by.

"No," Elbren shook his head, "not even he could rise again so quickly from the ruins of Barad Dur and the chaos of Mordor. There are some things, though, that are old and forgotten....and distant. I cannot say what it was that we found at Carn Dum, Marius, but it is still there and it still haunts the passes of the mountains. The fortress is wicked and so cold that it will burn. The Wise are few now in Middle Earth, Marius, but soon, the Wise will have to seek out that shadow. Otherwise, the North will remain untamed and wild."

"I have heard that King Elessar will raise Arnor again," Marius said as he helped Elbren to put on the tunic of the Sickle.

"Yes, and he will, I am sure, as his heart and roots lie there. But, Marius, Elessar knows that he has not the manpower or resources to keep all of the North safe. Your own people have roots in the North, Marius, in the far North of the Anduin, where the Langwell flows."

"I know that," Marius was feeling a tingle of excitement. What was the Elven Lord trying to say to him?

"Your brother shall rule the Rohirrim from Edoras, from within the Golden Hall, as is his destiny and honour," Elbren clasped his Mithril Cloak and turned to Marius, "who, do you think, shall be asked and charged with resettling the Northlands of the Rohirrim?"

"Resettling the Northlands?"

"Aye, Marius. Elessar and Eomer have spoken of this; the old lands of the Rohirrim will be resettled and garrisoned. It will take time and sacrifice, but it must be done. One day, Marius, you may be asked to lead the Northern Rohirrim."

Elbren buckled on his sword and dagger, "Thank you again for having my father's sword repaired," he studied the silent young man, "Marius, you aren't here to only learn of battle tactics and field command. You are here to serve with some of the finest leaders and defenders in Middle Earth. You are here to learn of your enemies. You are here to learn of patience and timing." The Elf stepped closer to the youth, "I KNOW that you can handle yourself in battle, and you shall do just that at my side tonight. It will take everyone one of us, our swords, our bows, our strength...to drive the Red Hammer into our trap and wipe them from the shores of Esgaroth. It is your task, Marius, just as it is the task of everyone who takes the field, to push the Red Hammer into Tempest's force and then cut them to pieces. There is no position with more honour upon the field tonight, Marius. You, mellon, shall fight with the Mithril Knights to liberate this land."

Elbren grabbed his helmet and then made ready to step forth from the tent. Finally, Marius spoke, "Lord Elbren, your banner."

The youth nodded to the spear leaning nearby, the banner of the Mithril Knights attached to it.

"Take it up, Marius," Elbren smiled, "for in the battle tonight, in my group, you shall be the Standard Bearer."

****************************************

The grey of twilight cascaded across the shimmering surface of the lake. Elbren stood at the edge of the wood, a silent and nearly invisible figure, watching the night sky closely. The moon was beginning to rise as well, and soon, so would the beloved Star of Earendil. The battle would be fought by the silvery light of the Moon while the stars of Elbereth pierced their gaze down upon the field.

Elbren glanced back at his battle group as they waited within the shadows of tree and branch. Soon....very soon. Marius caught his eye; the Rohirrim Prince looked grim and ready as he nodded.

Elbren's thoughts turned to his longtime friends and fellow knights. He visualised each one and spoke a whispered prayer for their safety and strength....and at last, his thoughts turned to Rholarowyn and Jiyadan. Elbren could not help but feel that some stroke of misfortune had befallen the pair...and he simply hoped and wished that they yet still lived.

Dirk.

His eyes scanning the East for the star, Elbren wondered again about the vision that he had received of young Dirk. Alone. Wandering. Shadowed.

Elbren forgot to breathe. There, in the East, just rising above the distant treetops. The Star of Earendil.

Turning on his heel, he sprinted the short distance to Erelas, signalling for everyone to mount up, as he swung up onto the back of his faithful stallion.

Silently, he signalled for them to move slowly and with care. In less than a quarter hour, his group was positioned, bows strung and arrows at the ready....

As night fell, Alan and Rodnic, the two Mithril Knights on guard in the ruins of the Guild House, began to wake the sleeping knights. Earlier that day, after a hearty breakfest, dinner for most of them, the contingent of Mithril Knights found room on the floors of the secret cellers to sleep for the day, conserving their strength for the night. Now it was time for battle. Rolin had ready another good meal for the waking knights.

Anorast hadn't been able to sleep much. The old elf was wound tight as a rope. This was his first time commanding a contingent of troops, and despite his long life, Anorast was very nervous. Throughout the day he'd walked through the town, a brown Laketown cloak thrown over his midnight blue Mithril Knight cloak. With his elvish eyesight he'd scouted the camps of the Red Hammer, planning the attack. Anorast knew their role in the battle, to distract the Red Hammer and do as much damage as they could to the center, but the elf had begun planning past the initial stages of battle. If all went well, more than just arrows would come from Laketown to kill the Red Hammer.

Sitting in the makeshift kitchen the Mithril Knight guards had constructed, Anorast watched as his fellow knights came in, looking awake and ready, sitting down to enjoy their last meal before battle. In his mind Anorast ran over his plans for deployment of his forces. With luck, none upon the wooden town would die during the battle.

Finally, it was time to go. Anorast led the Mithril Knights out of the ruined quarter, all armed and armored to their personal satisfaction. It was dusk as the group made their way down into the square in the center of town. Meeting them there was the Mirkwood archers, and all the men of Esgaroth, except for the ones on watch.

"Alright, in less than an hour we will begin the battle to lift the siege of Esgaroth. I don't have to ask to know that you're all ready for the upcoming battle, and I know there is no one here who needs to be reminded of the risks we're running. It is not my expectations that will keep you at your posts regardless of what comes, but I know it is your own pride and bravery."

Turning to Melithren and the Mirkwood archers, Anorast began to lay out his plans for that part of the force.

"Lord Melithren, set your archers to the south side of the gate. To the north there is nowhere to stand. On the south wall there is ample room for the force. At my signal, begin the attack, but do not have everyone fire until the dwarves reach the bridge. We want to keep them there.

"Myself and the Mithril Knight contingent will be above the gates. Lord Doric, if you would, have some of your men clear out from behind the gates, and have a group of warriors ready for close combat ready. For the rest of your troops, I have other instructions." Anorast continued on, laying out the basic structure of the battle. Then, with a nod, he sent the troops out to their positions.

Only moments later Anorast was standing atop the wall directly above the gates of Esgaroth. He could look down the wall to his left and see the many elven archers of Mirkwood. Beside him stood the Mithril Knights, Elenath, Bryttar and Tallain among them. To his right stood the Mithril Knights from Esgaroth, who'd emerged from their cellers bearing heavy Dale bows and many arrows. Beside him stood Nin, looking out towards the reddish flames of the campfires of the dwarves. Anorast looked down behind him, where Doric's men had cleared away the piles of rubble from behind the gates, and now stood at ease, somber, ready to defend their town again. As Anorast turned back towards the shore, a twinkle of starlight came from the market pool, and the old elf grinned with satisfaction. The Red Hammer had no clue what was about to happen to them.

In his hands Anorast twirled a specially prepared arrow. Wrapped around it's length was a cloth soaked in specially distilled lamp oil. All he waited for was the rising of a single light, the Silmaril of Earendil, sailing in the sky. Ever since it first appeared, the old elf knew exactly the time it rose. Not even bothering to look towards the sky, Anorast brought his bow up, and fitted the arrow to the string. Then, he began to laugh. None of them had brought a torch with which to light the arrow!

With a grin at his own foolishness, Anorast called upon his deep, sleeping power. Seldom had he used his skills in magic, prefering the alternatives, but somehow it seemed fitting that tonight he would start this battle with his power. Concentrating, remembering his lessons, long past, Anorast looked at the arrow. Then his face lit up, with light from the flame, and with a grin. Raising his bow, he aimed for the nearest cluster of tents on the shore, and released. With a trail of flame the arrow flew towards it's target, passed by the rising Star of Earendil, and the battle began.

From the tent Anorast targeted a fire sprung up. The Mithril Knights began firing into the crowd of dwarves that came rushing towards the flames. Anorast could see a few run away towards the main camp, and per his instructions, the elven archers and the Mithril Knights ignored them. They focused their limited efforts against those dwarves that were closest, running around like chickens when they see dogs. Yet swiftly they began to hear the rumble of booted feet, and towards the bridge came a great flood of torches. The diversion was a success. As the first armed dwarves reached the bridge, Anorast looked to his left just in time to see the full contingent of Mirkwood archers unleash their full abilities, and the front lines of the Red Hammer fell to the ground.

Anorast knew that soon the other Mithril Knight forces would join the fight, but he did not call off his archers. Before them was a host of dwarves, lit by torches, shoving up against the bridge. The elves could see their targets easily, and upon the shore, the Red Hammer died, one hundred and fifty at a time.

Elbren sat perfectly still upon the back of Erelas, his keen eyes upon the shadowy Laketown. Then...there! A flaming arrow that streaked across the night sky and then arched down into the Red Hammer camp, setting a tent into flame.

"Arrows," Elbren said in a monotone as he notched and prepared to draw his Lothlorien bow. Moreso from his actions than low words, all archers in his battle group followed the order.

"Draw," Elbren said, a little more loudly this time, and drew the string back slowly.

He could clearly see the Red Hammer Dwarves working furiously to put out the fire, which seemed to be spreading despite the dampness of the camp. Upon the bridge to Laketown, torches could be seen bobbing as the Dwarves ran to unleash their anger upon the Laketown archers. It was quite a surprise to the Dwarves when the first full volley emerged from Anorast's group. The Red Hammer fell back in dismay, but were then rallied by one of their captains and began to sprint again towards the Laketown gates.

Behind them, a second battle group of Red Hammer armed themselves and began to make their way towards the bridge to Laketown.

"Target is on bridge closest to Dwarven camp," this time Elbren shouted, his voice carrying on the evening winds, "FIRE!"

Dirk stood up and, pulling the star-embroidered hood up to conceal his pale face, ventured forth from his shelter, which was little more than a depression in the rock face beside the road that descended from the mountain pass above. He walked to the opposite side of the trail and stared blankly down into the black maw of the sheer drop off below. Before the light failed, he had seen that the wall below was several hundred feet of vertical granite, with a small wood of coniferous trees, probably fir but it was difficult to tell from directly above, casting shadows in the foothill it covered.

As he peered into the inky night unseeingly, he drifted back to eight nights earlier, when he had been ambushed.

He came to on his feet. Dirk knew not how long it was since he was pulled from his saddle by the short, stout orcs. He was astonished to find himself on his feet and relatively uninjured. He had a few bruises and small cuts and one freely bleeding laceration on his right thigh, but nothing life threatening, or even very painful. He was nevertheless soaked in blood ? very little of which was his own - which was easy to surmise, as it was black as his mail. Neleg Amlug still burned in his right hand. He was dazed; and his head ached far worse than any bruise or scratch he sustained in the fight warranted. After self-inspection, he surveyed his surroundings, which were littered with the dwarf-sized corpses of his ambushers ? over twenty of them. But Dirk could not count them accurately. For though many were whole, (at least four bore hoof-marks on their black skin) many more were not. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but he could not. The world was surreal, dreamlike. Everything seemed to be wreathed in a grey fog.

Endl—m‘ was not far away, drinking casually from the river. Dirk sheathed his black-bladed weapon and joined his horse, where he too drank from Celduin and washed the quickly coagulating sanguine filth from his face and hands. The icy water did nothing to order his thoughts, restore his vision, or return his short-term memory.

Still bewildered, he began to walk west along the river, toward the shadow of the forest of Mirkwood with the dawn beginning to lighten the sky at his back. He saw nothing of his surroundings. He knew not where he was going or why he chose any particular direction at all. He only knew that he must walk...

Dirk was shaken from his toughts by the sound of soft hoof-falls. His friend and companion, the noble son of mighty Shadowmane, mearas of Rohan and half mearas himself, Endl—m‘ had returned from his attempts to graze. He wickered softly and nuzzled Dirk's shoulder, great tendrils of the velvety sable mane falling across the young warrior's suprisingly wizened facade.

He smiled, "Yes, my friend, I agree. It is time."

Dirk retrieved his saddlebags and lashed them quickly into place. He then swung deftly into his seat and bent low to whisper into his mount's ear.

"You know which way we must go. Ours is not the direct path,my friend. We must lean toward caution and wisdom instead of bravery and haste."

With that, Endl—m‘ carried Dirk down the final mile of the descending trail. Once they reached bottom and its pine wood, they doubled back, hugging the granite wall, ambled south. They would stick to the gullies and depressions between the foothils, seeking the cover of trees when they could. He was sure that his presence was felt, away in the ruined fortress of Carn-Džm, the moment he stepped over the threshold of Hithaeglir and into the realm of Angmar. Nonetheless, he did not wish to be seen. They could not know who had arrived. Not until the right moment. They could not know that the rightful heir to the Witch-King's throne was among them.

*********************************************************************

He rode on for the remainder of the night. Slowly, Dirk's way had turned southwest as he skirted valley of Angmar. As the sky behing the mountains above began to lighten, giving their still night-blackened peaks greenish halos, the Knight sought shelter in a hallow ringed with elms and willows on three sides and steep hillside on the fourth. Again, he removed his saddlebags and set his horse loose to forage as he would. Endl—m‘ would come moments before he was needed, as was his uncanny tendancy.

Dirk found a particularly sturdy elm and climbed into a crook between its old branches. He began to relax. He was tired, but he would not sleep. He could not. He would use his new-found skill to free his mind of fatigue. When the time came, he would rouse himself, feeling as refreshed as if he had slept a full night on a feather mattress.

He began to slow his breathing. His eyes remained open, unblinking, as he sought the place within his mind that he had been shown. His concentration sharpened. He was at once fully aware of his surroundings and able to give his complete attention to the subject of his contemplation.

Presently, he returned to his thoughts about the days that had led him to the place was both physically and mentally...

Dirk sat deep in meditation somewhere in the shadow of Hithaeglir, between the peaks of Gundabad and Gram. His eyes were open and his ears heard every critter upon the ground and every cry of nocturnal birds. Yet his mind?s eye was reflecting upon his journey from the lands west of Greenwood the Great to his present position. He was contemplating the journey that had taken him far further than the leagues he and his horse had traversed in the past eleven days

In hindsight, he had been extraordinarily lucky. For two days, he wandered haplessly. He walked day and night, stopping neither for food, water, or rest. Though he hadn?t realized it at the time, he had gained the Men-I-Naugrim and was traveling openly upon it. Sometimes Endl—m‘ walked behind or beside his master. But Dirk spent the majority of those days alone, not seeing the forest that had cropped up around him. Not hearing the myriad birds and wildlife that scuttled away at his approach. Not feeling the sun?s feeble winter warms or the night?s icy fingers.

But finally, he collapsed. He was dehydrated. He was famished. But most of all, his mind was utterly spent. He fell in a heap upon the thick moss-covered forest floor and slept

When he awoke, he had regained his faculties. He opened his eyes to find that he was lying prostrate on a mound of mouldering leaves, just steps from the Old Forest Road. His stomach growled. He stood and looked about. Endl—m‘ was a few yards into the forest stripping a few of the last green leaves from the lower branches. The midday sun was peaking through the canopy above the road and falling in streaks onto the hard-packed dirt of the ancient byway.

Dirk walked tenderly to his horse ? he was footsore and weak from lack of food and water. He took out his water skin and drank deeply. Then he found a crust of cram in his bag and munched it hungrily. Most men and all elves turn up their noses at the hard waybread of the north men. But Dirk?s father, Drake had taught him to make it. The recipe differed from the traditional Dale-made bakers?, for Drake always added honey and almond oil. It was very much like the biscuits that hobbits served with tea, only it would last for months if kept dry and could sustain a man on any journey. It was said in Esgaroth that a man could travel from Mithlond to the Pelargir with naught but a water skin to fill along the way and twenty rolls of cram. The taste and texture reminded him of happy summers pretending to be a grand adventurer on the shores of the Long Lake. The happy thoughts of his father mixing batter and baking in the kitchen of the Golden Dragon were soured by the cold hard fact that Drake, Derek and the rest of Dirk?s kin were probably embroiled in a battle for their lives, even at the very moment.

Without warning Dirk froze. The sun was gone. It was as if noon turned into midnight in the blink of his eye. Gone was his fond memory. Gone was the guilt of not going to his father?s aid. Gone was the sadness at the possible loss of his homeland. Gone was all emotion except one: crippling, palpable, stifling fear. He was blind with it. He had to struggle to take a wheezing, ragged breath. It weight of his terror forced the tall warrior to his knees.

He had felt this kind of fear only once before, though at the time he did not know it. But now that he had learned to master himself from within. Now, in the elm tree on the outskirts of Angmar, he knew where he had experienced that dread before. In the mural room of the Edoras guildhouse, during his initiation, he had witnessed the Gilliath Londe. But his vision had taken him much further. To many places he had never been, including the void, where he heard the terrible voices of his father, his father?s master, Sauron the fallen Maiar, and his master in turn, the disgraced Valar, Melkor, and all of those who had been banished there in a swirling chorus, calling him...

Dirk deepened his concentration. The memory was a difficult one. But he was glad that he had been able to place it and link the two together. But he must remember his new training. Once he returned himself to the calm state of complete relaxation, he continued rehashing the experience of this mission.

The fear was too great. He could bear it not another second. His mouth was wide open in a silent scream. His hands covered his ears from the deafening silence. He could not, though he tried with every fiber of his being, close his eyes to the hideous nothing that he saw. But then, so small at first that he could not believe that he was really seeing it, a light appeared, a tiny candle flame in a gale, about to snuff itself out. And the light grew. The minuscule flame intensified until the utter blackness of a moment ago had turned into an utter whiteness equally as blinding. Slowly the light moderated. And Dirk?s eyes adjusted. The fear fell away in shards, like a broken mirror, leaving him as an empty vessel to be filled.

Slowly, the world came back into focus. Endl—m‘ was unaffected. Now that Dirk could see him again it was as if the horse did not know what had just happened. Was the young knight going mad? Almost immediately, his question was answered.

?No, Dirk son of Drake. You are not going mad.?

Endl—m‘ lifted his head. Dirk followed the horse?s gaze, to where an elf had appeared. But he wasn?t really an elf. He was only a shade of himself, a ghost from a past age. Shimmering, semi-transparent, he was both fair and terrible to look upon

Alandriel?s keen eyes narrowed in concentration as her gaze followed the bright streak that cut through the predawn sky. As it described a low arch and then set the first of many tents of their foe ablaze a small smile parted her lips. It had begun. Ethalon, her steed, pranced momentarily with eagerness yet a soft kick from her boots served to keep him in line with the other warriors and Mithril Knights that stood with Lord Elbren.

Even before the command ?Arrows? was issued, Alandriel had notched the first long shaft. The soft creaking of stretching wood and string, repeated a hundredfold all around her, was music to the Ranger?s heart and a sudden rush swept through the Ranger. She felt Ethalon tense anew beneath her and gave a soft hiss through her teeth. He twitched his ears nervously and a cloud of mist escaped in a soft snort yet he stood still. Holding the simple two-toned walnut bow that had served her well in many years perfectly balanced, she waited, the brushing of the white fletching against her cheek the only sensation disturbing her poise.

?"Target is on bridge closest to Dwarven camp," Lord Elbren?s voice rang through the stillness. ?FIRE!"

Alandriel?s left arm shot up to adjust her aim. A tremendous hum broke the stillness as uncounted bowstrings sang their ominous tune, sending a deadly hail of arrows amidst the unsuspecting dwarfs. Cries rang out. Torches wavered and flailed wildly only to be dropped onto the sodden ground or thrown off the bridge spanning the short distance from shore to Laketown, extinguishing and expiring as they failed as were the lives of their bearers.

In quick succession volley after lethal volley issued forth, not only from the East, but almost immediately joined from the West and centre. Yet many of the dwarves, hardy and strong willed despite their desperate peril, turned to face their unexpected assault from the back. Angry and commanding shouts now rang over the plain and Alandriel saw Lord Elbren?s arm shoot up. Another glance revealed Marius drawing his sword in readiness. The order to charge would follow any moment.

?In order to unlock the secret of the Eket you must use the blade; wield it in full battle

?

The words, uttered by Meltara her mentor of old during her initiation into the Guild, suddenly rang in her ears. A grim smile spread on her lips as she unsheathed the ancient Nœmenorean blade. The approaching dawn would not only bring a new day, it would also herald an end of days. For her, it would bring a new era.

Volley after volley erupted from Elbren's battle group, cutting down the Red Hammer Dwarves and holding them at bay on their Western flank. The Red Hammer captains were well versed in battle, though, and quickly began to retreat. Their shields soon formed a protective cover and they appeared to cower beneath them...

"Advance!!" Elbren ordered as he nodded to Alandriel and Marius, "hold your fire until we are in range again!"

But, even as the words left his mouth, he sensed that something was amiss...

"Lord Elbren!" Alandriel cried out to him.

He looked and followed her gaze and pointing finger. A cave slightly above the lakeshore line. Dark. Too dark for even Elven eyes to penetrate its shadowy entrance.

But, they didn't have to wait long. The Red Hammer had only retreated long enough for it to be drawn from the darkness of the cave.

A cave that somehow had eluded the scouting reports.

"Hold the line!" Elbren shouted.

Led by the procession of the shielded Red Hammer Dwarves, a well crafted and sturdy catapult was brought onto the battlefield of the Laketown shore. A second followed immediately.

But, they still needed to be secured and armed. That gave Elbren some time.

"Alandriel," Elbren turned to the Adept, "take the archers that are on foot to form a small flank of our own just to our left. They must fire a volley and then move, fire and move, do not become a target for the catapults, once they are ready..."

Even as he spoke, he could see the first catapult being loaded and preparing to fire.

"Move now!" Elbren ordered and then urged Erelas closer to Marius, "Marius, get a shield wall formed on our front line! Now!"

"FIRE!!!!" The not so distant cry of a Dwarven captain caused them all to look again to the Red Hammer's battle group.

"Prepare to move!"

"What is that?" Marius asked.

The Red Hammer had launched multiple, rather small stones at them...no, not stones...not quite right...

THUNK.

Elbren glanced down to his right and was horrified at the distorted and rotting face that stared back up at him. When he jerked his eyes back towards the night sky, he saw yet another bloody and worm-eaten face vaulting towards him.

"Hold position!" Elbren cried out, though he felt his mouth watering and his stomach beginning to twist and turn. When he looked over at Alandriel, he could see his own horror reflected in her wide eyes.

The Red Hammer Dwarves began to laugh and jeer....

In the center of the field, there was an eerie silence as Tempest and her group waited breathlessly. Even Erinhue was surprisingly quiet, though he looked encouragingly at his mentor knights who stood near him with wide eyes.

They all gave a shout together, in one voice when the first volley of arrows began, and Tempest felt the blood rush to her muscles in anticipation of battle. "Whatever happens, we must hold the line. There will be no retreat or surrender for us. We must hold the line."

Then, suddenly, on the Western flank, they caught the dim sounds of confusion, and all eyes swung toward the west. Something was wrong. "Can you see anything?" Tempest asked, searching for the keen eyes of an elf.

"Something...something has surprised them. There is confusion in their ranks," a voice nearby said in fear.

"Is their line fractured? Are they trying to regroup?" she asked, her hand tightly gripping her sword.

"I...I can't tell from this distance. Something has caught their attention. Something...unexpected."

"What should we do? Should we go to their aid?" Telta asked.

"No! We must hold our own lines! WHATEVER happens!" Tempest replied passionately. She turned to Erinhue. "Whatever happens."

He nodded. "We can take on the whole army if we have to!" he said with a smile.

"Right. The lines have already been drawn in the sand. There is no turning back now."

"KEEP FIRING AND ADVANCE!" Elbren shouted, digging his heels into Erelas and urging the mearas forward. "ADVANCE THE SHIELD WALL!"

The grotesque heads of the Laketown refugees continued to be launched into Elbren's group, and for a few very long moments, they all were too shocked and stunned to move past their horror.

"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" Elbren shouted again. Arrows began to rain down again from his battle unit as Anorast's group continued to pound the Red Hammer mercilessly from Laketown.

Soon, though, the heads were replaced with the heavy stones that landed with death and mortal wounds. The Red Hammer continued to scream insults even though they themselves held their position.

They're waiting, Elbren thought, to see if we're alone....

"ADVANCE!" Elbren yelled again, "FIRE AND MOVE! GO! GO! Marius! Get the shield wall moved up!"

Pinned in on two sides and with Elbren's group advancing, the Red Hammer began to fall back, but only slightly.

"Look sharp! Move in!" Elbren galloped Erelas to his right flank and urged the Elves and Men to tighten up their line, "MOVE IN!"

THWACK!!!

A huge boulder landed within the ranks of the shield wall, crushing three warriors and pinning a fourth with a broken leg. Elbren rushed to the line, quickly searched for Marius, and then ordered, "Fall in! Fill the line! Don't let it collapse! If someone falls, step in!"

THWACK! THWACK! More screams of pain and eight more on the shield wall fell.

"ADVANCE! MOVE!" Elbren kept urging his group forward, "FIRE AND MOVE!"

The Red Hammer was less than forty yards away now. Elbren fell back behind the shield wall and searched the horizon for Mirdain and Tempest. He saw Tempest holding her ground, holding her warriors in check until the Red Hammer fell back into their melee range.

And then the catapults stopped firing their deadly boulders; the Red Hammer began to advance, axes and shields ready.

As the first arrows flew and the battle began, it was clear that Lord Anorast had succeeded in gaining access to Laketown by the boats and that his army was ready and taking charge of the first assault. The war had begun!

Shouts suddenly from the western flank alerted them to the gravity of the situation. Knights and warriors were falling but they had to stand their line and wait. There was an ache in Vana's heart when she had heard Telta ask if they should go to their aid.

"We must hold our own lines! WHATEVER happens!" Tempest told the ranks she rallied.

The only aid they could give now was to be there when the time was ready for them to enter the battle. Swords drawn and ready, nerves shakin but steady as they watched the battle rage before them.

Lord Hue was ready, keeping watch between the Red Hammer and Tempest waiting for the time of his charge or advance into battle. The air was filled with the sick smell of fresh blood and rotting flesh within a very short time. the stench grew and Vana's stomach started to churn but she knew she couldnt move, her place was here till the end. "Come what may!" she thought to herself.

But they wouldnt have all that long to wait before the battle would turn and come to them.

Raghnildur's eyes widened at the sight of the flaming arrow that had announced the beginning of the coming storm. It was all he could do to restrain himself from flying into the fray, but the stern voice of Tempest quailed any desire of the members in the group to disobey command and break rank. The sounds and smells of battle were very quick to follow the first signs that the battle had begun, and the tall man felt his fingers begin to itch with anticipation. It had been long since he had exerted himself in a fierce battle. The scuffle at Rhosgobel counted not, it felt like a bit of exercise. This was going to be a battle that would be remembered in tale and song for centuries.

As the battle raged and the warriors under command in the center waited their turn, Raghnildur dropped to one knee in the damp ground. The ground that was damp with dew and with rain would soon be saturated with the blood of the Red Hammer, and Raghnildur felt a smirk begin to light up his face. He untied a piece of string that was tied around his wrist and used it to pull his hair out of his face.

As he stood, if one would have been looking, they would have seen a sparkle of mirth quite unlike the dark unrest that had been present in Raghnildur's eyes for many years. His eyes shone with happiness, but not for the sheer pleasure of killing. He smiled as a man about to do what he was born to do, defend those who were unable to defend themselves. Violence in itself was not appealing to the man, but these dwarves, who took such delight in the torture and fear they served to all unable to stop them, they deserved to die.

Every muscle in the man's seven foot frame was tense, clenched, ready to spring into action. He just awaited the word, he simply waited for the command from his leader.

He was ready.

The distant sounds of battle were chaotic and experience read in

it the element of unwelcome surprise. The smoothly planed flanking move had encountered the unexpected. A few of those in Tempest's command wanted to aid their fellow knights, but all knew that their duty lay in holding their position.

It was too late to alter the plan now. The first arrows had already taken flight, the offensive to regain Laketown had begun. What ever forces Lord Anorast had been able to muster within the village would soon press forward driving the remnants of enemy onto the bridge and into the flanking funnel Elbren's and Mirdain's companies would form. If the center did not hold until the noose was closed all would be in vain.

All of this could be read deep in Tempest's stormy eyes as she, like all the others, looked towards the sounds of warfare.

"What should we do? Should we go to their aid?" Telta asked.

"No! We must hold our own lines! WHATEVER happens!" Tempest replied passionately. She turned to Erinhue. "Whatever happens."

He nodded. "We can take on the whole army if we have to!" he said with a smile.

Erinhue winked at Tempest and wished he felt as confident as his words. He could feel the taught nerves all around and instinct made him look to his former trainee knights. As they stood fairly close, he took the opportunity for one last bit of advice.

"Listen up gosling's don't bunch up, remember ta leave room to swing and remember ta swing low. It's dwarves we'll be fighting, not orcs so think every thing at least a head shorter. Pick your targets best as ya can and make every stroke count. We can make up for numbers with speed, remember that too.

Dwarves might be harder to kill than Orcs, but they are slower moving. They'll most likely be winded or near to it when they reach us. The Son's of Durin are not famed as long distance runners, nor are they known for their swift and graceful moves and that's to our advantage." He nodded at each one of them and added "Remember what I told ya about me, too."

Erinhue looked at them, seeing the courage in each steadfast set of eyes, and sense of pride welled up with in him. It wasn't anything that he had done, they were each one more than worthy of the Guild before he agreed to mentor them, but he was proud of them anyway.

The sounds of battle were drawing closer. The still distant fighting would soon come to them and then there would be no time for any thought but the bloody work at hand. the bard looked again toward it and wondered what it was that Lord Elbren and Lord Mirdain had encountered.

He considered asking Agarak what was going on up ahead but he had left the dragon harp back in the main camp. The distance meant nothing as he could call the harp to him at his will, but Agarak was not likely to response to such a request.

It rarely interfered in what it saw as the bard's own affairs. Transporting Telta, Raghnildur and Fala across the vast expanse of Mirkwood was more help than he could have expected, but then he never could tell just what to expect from the dragonharp.

Dirk?s eyes adjusted slowly as his heart slowed until it beat only a mild tattoo upon his ribcage. The apparition solidified and became whole.

?Then again, you aren?t Drake?s son, are you?? quipped the elf-shade, almost as if in passing.

Dirk focused on the elf?s face. Timeless were its features, ancient and forever young. The young man could not decipher what he read there in the black eyes of the ghostly elf lord. He hadn?t realized that his own eyes were wide with fear and befuddlement.

?Do not fear. And also do not be so surprised,? the elf, apparently Noldorin and clad in the finest cloth robes that were the color of Endl—m‘?s mane, smiled wanly and reached out to stroke the great stallion?s head.

?Yes, Dirk, I know who you are. Or should I say that I know what you are?? They held each other?s eyes for a moment; ?I will answer your question before you ask it.?

Dirk was unaware that he was relaxing, he was not conscious at the time of the fact that the elf?s presence was soothing. The harrowing battle and the ensuing entranced march were fading from him. But he was too confused by the sudden appearance and the words that were spoken notice.

?The armour that you wear,? the tall elf continued while Dirk gingerly lifted his arms to ogle the black-metal braces, ?it is my handiwork. I am Ešl. My home, Nan Elmoth, lies now beneath the sea to the west. I forged the armour and the blades that were meant to be used with it. Alas, the Mithril Knights were unable to save Anglachel or Aguirel. The former you know as Gurthang, the latter was stolen by my son and was probably lost in the fall of Gondolin. The swords I forged from shining black metal from the heavens. For the armour, I mimicked the meteorite metal in the creation of galvorn. In the process of the metal?s creation, I had to give part of myself, part of my existence. It is by this existence that I have come to know you. Part of me will always live in Middle Earth, in that mail and those vambraces. And as you have taken up my armour, that part of me is now inexorably a part of you. For you were given my armour freely and you donned it of your own free will. No other may use it now and none can take it while you or your future heirs live.?

Dirk stood stock-still. He was suddenly and embarrassingly aware that his mouth hung wide. Ešl smiled in earnest and moved toward Dirk, placing his cold hand upon the young man?s shoulder. Dirk closed his mouth with a clicking of his teeth.

?But I did not risk the dangerous journey from Mandos' Halls to rehash my past. You are lucky. But luck alone will not take you where you need to go. I must teach you to master yourself before my smith-work masters you. Your choice in the Caras Galadhon armoury was foolhardy, to be sure. But it was lucky as well.?

?But, I do not understand? Dirk?s voice started weak and ended in silent pantomime.

?Oh, you can speak! But pray, do not interrupt me. I?ve only a short reprieve from my home and there is much I need to teach you.? He sat on the ground and beckoned Dirk to do the same, ?As I was saying: foolhardy and fortunate. Foolhardy because had any other mortal attempted to buckle on that mail, they would have been driven mad almost immediately. However you are of pure Nœmenorean blood, which has spared you for a while. Had a mortal without Elros? gift of long life attempted it, he would most certainly have died upon his own blade within a day. But even another of the Dœnedain would have succumbed to it eventually, including the greatest of their race that yet lives, Ellesar.?

Dirk shifted uneasily, as Ešl continued, ?But fortunate also, because the Mithril Knights did not know of my continued link with the armour. It is good that none of them sought to take it as their own. Even though the elf lord that leads your Order could certainly have used the armour without danger of madness, he would not have benefited from its power as much as you will. You see, I believe that because of your interesting lineage, your disposition is uniquely suited to its use. Much alike, you and I are, young Dirk. We both have our, shall we say, ?dark? tendencies. And now that I see you in the flesh, I am sure of it. This mail was meant for a reason, as were all of my creations. I did not know that purpose when I forged it. And though I did wear it in battle, I never had the satisfying feeling that my work had fulfilled is purpose. I?ve only felt it once, when Turin slew Glaurung. That was a fitting use for Gurthang.?

The elf drifted into his own thoughts for a few seconds, then came back to himself.

?But I digress. This armour, and indeed Anguirel, wherever it is, have not yet achieved their objectives. As for the armour, I believe that you are the key to it accomplishing its end.?

He breathed in the close air of Greenwood and thought for a moment, ?We must begin your lessons this instant and I hope that I am not too late in giving them to you. Two nights ago, on the bank of Celduin, you were involved in a battle that would have certainly taken your life, except that you were overtaken by the power of the mail. You became very like what is called a berserker. That is, you were lost and the power took over. You were again very lucky in that you came back to yourself, although I am sure it wasn?t a pleasant return. I am here to teach you to harness the power, to use it without losing yourself. For if it were to happen again, you might never recover.?

Dirk had heard stories of Lord Erinhue?s berserker. They said that he was very dangerous in that state, that he did not even know friend from foe. Was this truly what had happened to him? If so, it was another good reason that he had sent Arwen away. He might have killed her had she been with him on the riverbank when the strange, squat orcs attacked.

Ešl continued, bringing Dirk?s attention back to him, ?We will begin by teaching you to control your breathing

Over what seemed like many hours, Dirk and the dark elf went through a series of exercises, at the end of which he was able to search within himself, find any experience and watch it as if he was an outside observer. He was also shown the places within his soul where he was attached to his past, to his true father, to the blade at his side, and to the armour he wore. He was able, after much labour, to come to grips with the blackest ingredients in the mix that made him who he was now. Though he had not mastered them perfectly, he had been shown the means by which to do so.

Ešl then had him stand and draw his sword

When the Red Hammer burst upon the shield wall, the sound was like an explosion of thunder...but from the ground.

"TO ARMS!" Elbren shouted and the order echoed down the line.

Bows were immediately slung and blades were drawn. Elbren quickly surveyed the scene as he, too, retired his bow, for now, and drew his newly reforged sword. This was not the full contingent of the Red Hammer encampment; in fact, Elbren guessed that this was less than half of the 4 or 5 thousand Dwarves that they had surmised from scouting reports.

A sudden falling to his right revealed a break in the shield wall; the Dwarves began to hack their way into Elbren's group.

"HOLD THE WALL! STEP IN!!" Elbren cried, urging Erelas to the scene.

The dozen or so Red Hammer who had breached the shield wall were quickly cut down, though a few of Elbren's group now bled freely, too.

With a grimace, Elbren ordered the wall to fall back, for the Red Hammer were massing and expertly slamming the shields with their axes, splintering the wood while the shields of metal were taking a beating as were their masters.

Elbren's eyes narrowed as he felt the battle plan falling to pieces. They would soon be engaged in hand to hand with the Red Hammer; neither Mirdain nor Anorast's arrows could aid them then; the risk for slaying their own was too great.

The sound of yet another shield splintering jerked Elbren's head to the right, where Marius was fighting valianty with the Red Hammer who began to rush through the wall breach.

Another shield went down. More Red Hammer poured through. If they could just push the Dwarves a hundred yards...perhaps a bit less even than that....then Tempest's group could join them without surrendering their own position. Elbren could not tell if Mirdain's arrows were taking the rear of the Dwarves or not. The smoke from the burning tents, for more had begun to burn, was now causing a smoky grey haze to fall upon the field, and even that was reflected and enhanced by the silvery moonlight. Except in close quarters, it was nigh impossible to see.

"Eru help us," Elbren muttered as he lowered the visor to his helmet and charged into the fray....

Unlooked for from close range, a sudden volley of arrows struck the dwarves at point blank range, coming from the sides. In only seconds many dwarves fell to the deadly accurate arrows, which strangely came from the waters of the lake.

Only moments after the original breakthrough of the Red Hammer, a lull fell in the fighting, as the Red Hammer recoiled to regroup from the sudden flanking attack, and the warriors of Elbren's force finished off the last dwarves in their ranks. The time allowed Elbren to reform his line, and prepare their own counter attack. Riding quickly to the lakeshore, Elbren peered out into the smokey darkness.

"Ahoy there, saviors!" A powerful voice floated to Lord Elbren's ears from just off shore. "The defenders of Esgaroth thank you for your timely arrival."

"Defenders of Esgaroth? Who are you?"

From the darkness, a faint splash was heard, and out of the smoke a boat quietly emerged; one of the boats the Beornlings had used to deliver Anorast and his troops to Esgaroth. Despite the night Elbren's keep elvish eyesight picked out the shapes of cloaked men lining the sides of the boat. Soon it had almost reached the shore, and in the prow one figure stood out, looking directly at Elbren.

"Hail, Lord Elbren. We are the men of Esgaroth who at long last have been given the opprotunity to strike directly at our foes. I am Lord Doric, captain of Esgaroth."

"Your arrival was unlooked for, but appreciated, Lord Doric."

"Lord Anorast felt he had the defense of Laketown well in hand with his contingent of archers and Mithril Knights. Knowing that we still might be useful, he ordered us to take to the boats, armed with both bow and sword. As he put it, we are the rowed version of cavelry."

"Yet how did you know to come to our aid?"

"We watched the Red Hammer launch an attack in this area, so we followed. Now, however, we must go. Anorast has plans for retaking the bridge, and we shall be needed."

Looking behind him Elbren could hear the sound of booted feet running towards them again. They had been granted a reprieve, but it was brief. Turning one last time towards the lake Elbren called after the disappearing boat:

"My thanks, and good luck!"

-----------------------------------

Upon the walls of Laketown, the Mirkwood archers and Mithril Knights wreaked havoc upon the Red Hammer within their range. Yet the anticipated effect, that the Red Hammer would attack towards Laketown, and then be pulled back towards the other lines by their own attacks did not seem to be occuring. Instead the Red Hammer stayed, continuing to attack Laketown with a ferocity unchanged by the flights of arrows decimating their ranks.

The change in situation didn't concern Anorast much. It simply gave them more targets. However, when his elvish eyes picked out several catapults being pulled up to the shore, the elf became very concerned. With a call to the nearest archers to him, Anorast sent volley after volley of arrows towards them, only to have their arrows blocked by heavy metal shields held by the dwarves surrounding the catapults. As the first stone crashed into the thick wooden wall, shaking the Mirkwood archers, Anorast realized that those catapults had to be taken out of action.

Nodding to the Mithril Knights, himself and those few that he'd spoken to earlier descended to the gate. The other Mithril Knights were those that also had skill in close combat, and were not afraid to fight the dwarves hand-to-hand. At the base they met up with the small force of Laketown troops left in the town. One handed Anorast a torch, and as the gates opened, they all drew their weapons.

Above them all the archers focused on clearing the bridge. Withering flights mowed down dwarves ahead of the force charging down the bridge. Halfway along the bridge, and still meeting only arrow ridled corpses, Anorast took the torch he bore in his right hand, and with a loud call threw it spinning towards the enemy.

On his signal, the archers from the walls shifted aim back to the dwarves on land. Yet just as the dwarves shouted joyfully and began to charge towards Anorast and the other attackers, flights of arrows from the sides cut them down. In only seconds Anorast and his warriors engaged the dwarves, cutting through the decimated forces left by the two archer forces. As the swirl of close combat began to distract the Red Hammer, none of them noticed as a small force of cloaked figures slid out of the darknes and with a few quick blows, slew the guards on the catapults, and quick chops disintigrated the tension ropes, rendering the machines useless.

Upon the bridge Anorast and the Laketown troops fought hard, holding off the Red Hammer, but despite the arrows from the town and the laketowners in the boats, they were beginning to be pushed back. Quickly grabbing a fallen, but still burning torch, Anorast pulled back briefly to hurl it upwards, hoping that the other commanders on shore would correctly guess it's significance. Then with a cry, he called for the retreat of the sally force, back to Laketown.

"Erinhue, I don't know...I don't know if they're going to make it," Tempest said in a very low voice, that only the bard could hear.

"They're not quite close enough, but they'll do it," he replied, though she noted that his tone lacked the confidence of before.

"Elbren's troops are not properly armed for hand-to-hand combat. Some of them possess only bows...They're being slaughtered," she said with a calm horror.

"I know."

Suddenly, Tempest swung around and caught him by the shoulders. "Sing," she ordered him.

"What?"

"Sing! Loudly! Draw their attention into the center! Come now, Erinhue, you must know a few good battle songs. Pick something taunting! Something that will make their blood boil. Come, we'll all sing together!" She rallied those under her command together. "Listen to the bard. We're all going to sing our lungs out. We will give hope to our comrades and make our enemies take notice!"

"Are you sure? I don't think they'll even be able to hear us..." someone muttered.

"They'll hear us. We'll make them hear us! It will give us the element of surprise. They won't know what to make of it!"

For a moment, even Erinhue was at a loss for words.

"Sing"

The command caught Erinhue completely off guard. He understood what Tempest wanted from him but he knew no battle hymn that would serve her purpose. Presented with a task he must not fail, the bard relied upon his wit and created something that would satisfy.

He threw the power of his talent into his voice and sang the words just as they came to him. His rich baritone rose above the distant din and carried on a sudden breeze.

"Durin built his halls of stone

To make up for his weak back bone

He delved into the mountain side

To give his folk a place to hide

Rather than come face the fight

They cower back and shake with fright

Come face us and we'll cut you down

And put you Dwarves back underground."

It was crude and the simplicity of the couplets made the bard cringe inwardly. There was no time for artistry, he sang on saying whatever came easily to mind, but as it was the ditty met its goal. It was insulting and certain to raise the ire of any son of Durin.

To increase the insult factor, Erinhue sang the verse in the Common Tongue and then in Sindarin, the language of the Woodland Elves, which the dwarves would most certainly recognize and finally in a purposely mangled version of the Dwarf's very own tongue.

The company around him quickly picked up the familiar tune and joined in enthusiastically. Soon every voice was singing in one great insulting roar. The sudden breeze amplified the sound as it shifted to carry it directly towards the battlefield.

The ring of Neleg Amlug echoed of the enormous tree trunks that surround the duo. The familiar sound elicited a loud whinny and an enthusiastic mane toss from the bored warhorse, who was now some way off still stripping tender frost-wilted leaves from low-hanging branches. Dirk raised the sword so that the hilt was level with his eyes. He marveled at the weapon he had carried for almost two years as if it was the first time he had lain eyes upon it. With his mind open as he had been taught he had a greater understanding of the blade and its enchantment. He was able to take his mind to the place where the very fibre of his being was connected to the only remaining heirloom of his house. The sinister, vengeful voice was more coherent. He understood it. Dirk had learned to tolerate, ignore, or drown it out. But now the fell voice was clear. It was still dark and spoke of wrecking havoc ? maiming and killing. It was the anger of his father, trapped in an instrument of death.

Even with his mind open thus, Ešl had taught him to remain aware of his surroundings. He was more aware than he had ever been before in fact, despite his inward concentration. He saw the tension in the muscles of the old elf?s face before he inhaled in order to speak; and he turned his eyes to lock with the dark elf?s before the sound left his throat.

?You are doing better than I expected. Your ability to think and see and act simultaneously yet independently is, quite frankly, elvish. You have a rare gift among men. Only the highest of your race are able to learn this skill and even the direct descendants of Elros would need months to get where you have in only a few hours. This heartens me. I was right to believe that you were meant for the galvorn mail.

?May I?? He held out his hands as if to receive the sword.

Dirk hesitated.

?The curse that was laid upon this blade will have no effect on me. I am not of this earth anymore, Dirk. Please, I only wish to inspect the craft of it.?

Dirk held for a second more, and then with a small bow, he turned the hilt toward the dark elf, who received it gingerly. He hefted it, tested its balance, inspected it edges, which glinted in the afternoon sun.

?Here is a fine blade. One of the finest I have seen, excepting my own work of course.? He wasn?t being arrogant. It was a statement of fact grounded in three ages of lore. ?The best techniques known to elves, men, and dwarves are employed here. It is balanced perfectly. The tang runs the full length of the blade.? Ešl swung the blade in a fluid arc then stopped to stare at it closely. ?The steel is folded no less than one hundred times, I?ll warrant. Even were it not enchanted, it would take a direct axe stroke by a full-grown mountain troll to notch this blade.?

He raised an eyebrow and lifted his head to look at Dirk, whose gaze never left the elf.

?Ah, but it is enchanted is it not? Rendered unbreakable, it seems, except by more powerful magic, of which there is very precious little ? almost none outside of Valinor itself. Your father was the most powerful sorcerer ever to tread Middle earth save those who were Maiar or Valar. I can see that he also gave a bit of himself when he transformed this blade; for nay, he did not forge it himself. You know this. He stole it and molded it into a weapon worthy of the deeds he wrought with it. How long have you borne this??

?Almost two years.?

?And before you took up my armour, had you ever...lost control? Particularly when you first wielded this in battle??

?Not completely, no.? Dirk lowered his head, ashamed. ?But it has made me crueler toward my enemies when I am very angry.?

?I understand. And this anger, has it gotten more or less intense as you have had the sword??

?I had begun to master it,? now he raised his head level again with the tall elf?s, ?before I took possession of your mail. Since then, it seems to be getting worse...? Dirk?s voice trailed off, he began to loose concentration.

?Do not lose your wits, mortal!? Ešl bellowed, snapping Dirk back into form. ?You must concentrate. You must force yourself into this state of consciousness until it is automatic, until it is you.? He offered Dirk the hilt of the sword, Dirk grasped it and the elf?s hands fell away. ?Tell me its name.?

?Neleg Amlug.? His mind searched for a moment, and then found the connection to the sword, without losing its connection to the mail or giving any outward indication that it had made such contact. ?Carch Urul—ki in your tongue.?

?Good. Nay, excellent!? he beamed. ?You have already learned to move your mind and your body, your inward and outward tasks, independently.

?But that is not the name your father gave it.? The old elf seemed to change subjects as quick as lightning. Dirk?s forehead furrowed. ?You may utter it here, this forest is old and has endured much evil. It will not even flinch at a few words in the black speech.?

?My father named it Kasak Kulkodar.? The words echoed ominously through the darkness, punctuated but a crow?s harsh call. ?All the names mean

Dragon Fang. In the common tongue.? Ešl finished. ?Tell me, beside what I have guessed already, what other, erm, 'properties', does it have??

?Well, it can not be held by any save its rightful owner, the heir of Angmar.?

?Yes, I know this. But what happens if another touches it??

?They are struck dumb, catatonic. They are paralyzed with open, unseeing eyes.? Dirk remembered when Nurvilya had attempted to use the sword. It seemed like ages ago. But in his newfound mental state he could see it as if it were happening before his eyes. ?They mutter incoherently to themselves, and go mad without being able to escape. They wither and would eventually die, I assume. The only time I have seen it, the person was healed by one of noble birth.?

?The Black Breath.? Ešl said in a low tone, ?The same affliction as one stabbed by a Morgul blade. The same magic that your father used on all his weapons ? and to protect himself against attack. Think about it: the stories about the Fellowship, those who were afflicted with the same symptoms.?

His voice lightened considerably, ?But you are mistaken in your guess. Those afflicted with the Black Breath do not die ? they become as wraiths themselves, undead. Protect your friends, Dirk. See to it that your blade is kept out of anyone?s hand.

?What else have you seen it do??

?It doesn?t touch what it cuts. Flesh and bone and wood and mail, they all just fall away before the edge of the blade.?

?Interesting, that. An evil so bloodthirsty, yet would not allow his sword to be stained. Go on.?

?The wounds it causes cannot be easily healed. Even the slightest scratch will bleed forever if not tended to with powerful medicine.? Again the young man hesitated. He hadn?t ever spoken this openly about what he had thought were the evils of his sword.

?Well, and it, um... Talks to me.? Dirk flushed, ?I know I sound mad, but it has a fell voice.?

?It is not madness. The Witch-king was banished into the void. But part of him lives on in his blade, just as part of me lives on in the metal of my armour. Though I promise, once we are through tonight, you will hear my voice never again while you live.? He changed the subject back to the blade once again. ?I also would venture to say there isn?t a substance it cannot penetrate, save those imbued with more powerful enchantment.?

He moved close and bade Dirk sheath the weapon. ?It is a good match for my mail, Dirk. You have not yet begun to tap into its vast power. Its secrets, like those of the armour, could not have been fathomed by you unless you learned to master your own mind as I have taught you.?

To Dirk?s surprise the dark elf embraced him. He held him out at arm?s length for a moment while he began to speak, ?I must depart now," he released Dirk. "But this last thing I must tell you. Your presence in Esgaroth will not save the town. Your death will not do them any good. And you will surely die if you go there alone. Many are already on their way that will be the saviours of your foster family?s land, and some are surprise allies indeed, wholly unlooked for. You must look elsewhere for the lynchpin, the catalyst that is bringing about this latest evil. Seek your father?s throne, and there you will find the key to stemming the Red tide that is washing over the free lands of Middle-earth.?

Ešl made as if to depart, but turned as Dirk was about to speak, ?You wish to ask me something??

?Yes, Lord. In the stories, when Elladan told me tales of you when I was a boy, he always described you as menacing and dark. He said that you were a hermit that meddled not in the dealings outside of his own home and family.? Dirk swallowed hard, hoping that he was not offending his teacher, ?But you seem very helpful, at times cheerfully so. Are the tales false??

?Nay Dirk. They are true. If, in my lifetime, I had seen a mortal in my armour, I would have slain you without a single word. But these millennia in the company of Mandos and those who dwell with him have changed me. I have come to realize that others must take over where the Noldor have failed. Men must protect the land that the Ainur made. I am here to facilitate that protection in my own small way.?

He walked to the spot where he first appeared. There was a blindingly white flash and Ešl?s voice rang out one last time, ?Besides, I like you. Like I said, you remind me of a mortal version of myself

Then there came the suffocating black. Dirk retreated into his mind as he had been taught and the fear did not penetrate his newfound acuity.

When the black of the void faded and the nightscape of Mirkwood returned, Dirk noticed that the filth of battle was gone from him. The black blood that had encrusted the armour and his clothing was gone. Only the tear in his leather breeches and the healing wound beneath remained.

He pressed his fingers to his lips and whistled. A small distance to his left came the answer, a spirited neigh. Soon there were thunderous hoofbeats, and then the giant sable warhorse appeared. Dirk climbed into the saddle and pressed his heels into the steed?s flanks.

?To Angmar, my friend! Make for the pass of Gundbad.?

In the healing tents at the nearly deserted Mithril Knight encmapment, the jeweled red eyes of Erinhue's dragonharp sparked to life. When its bard began to sing, the harp responded by picking up the tune and softly playing it to the all but silent camp.

The notes drifted towards the battlefield stirring up a breeze in their passing that picked up the rich clear notes and carried them across the field. The provacative melody was increased by a multitude of voices and, amplified by the "breeze", reached the ears of those engaged in battle. To some it brought hope and strength and firm resolve. To others it invoked chaos.

When distant sounds changed from the cries of battle to something they could not fathom, wary eyes turned west but even Telta?s keen eyesight could not see the cause of it. Swords were drawn by anxious hands in nervous anticipation for battle. Telta was one of those who stood sword ready. The need to go forth and help was strong as instincts pushed still feet into action moving her forward.

"What should we do? Should we go to their aid?" she asked her eyes never veering from what lay to the west straining to catch a glimpse of those fighting. ?No! We must hold our own lines! WHATEVER happens!" Lady Tempest answered loud enough for all to hear. The elf?s hand tightened around her sword. This waiting was not easy but she would not go against Lady Tempest?s orders. More screams filled her ears and she fought the urge to cover them to block the sounds out knowing there was nothing they could do.

The smell of smoke and blood drifted on the breeze bringing the stench of death and destruction. How much longer would they have to wait? Erinhue?s voice penetrated her thoughts...?don?t bunch up.? She looked at him focusing her attention on what he was saying listening carefully to his instructions. His battle experience surpassed hers and anything he could offer to fight against the Red Hammer was invaluable. Swing low, make every target count and speed was their advantage. This would be like no other fighting she had encountered before. A tiny flicker of uncertainty crossed her mind. Was she ready for this? She continued to look at Hue his voice was strong, confident and it quashed the uncertainty she felt and replaced it with a sense of knowing she was needed, that she could do this. She was ready.

"Remember what I told ya about me, too." Telta could not forget. She paced a tiny space of ground waiting, watching, listening. But Lady Tempest?s one commanding word ?Sing.? to Hue was not what she was expecting.

Voices loud and clear joined in his song meant to taunt the enemy driving it home as he led the song in the Common Tongue, Sindarin and a version of the Dwarf?s tongue she had never heard before.

She looked out again...was it working? Did they hear it?

?Back to Laketown!? a voice sounded above the harsh noises of the battlefield. Recognizing it as a command from Lord Anorast, Arwen took up the cry, urging those behind her to make their retreat. As she backed up, the peredhel?s unwavering green gaze remained intently upon the enemy force that clambered and pitched in its attempt to break past the deadly barrier of arrows that rained mercilessly down on them. Again and again, with nimble fingers, she notched her arrows and felt the vibration of the string feather against her cheek as she released the felling shot.

In the distance, the strident notes of singing reached Arwen?s ears, taking in the situation her lips turned up in a smirk at the clearly insulting words and the desired effect that it was having upon their foes. The dwarves that had been furious in their attack of Elbren?s wavering line suddenly moved off in reckless, unorganized groups toward Telta?s force, hopefully giving the Elbren?s cavalry time to regroup. Finally falling back herself, Arwen slung her bow across her back and threw her force into barricading their inner defenses.

The scents and sounds of the raging battle were the things of nightmares and the sickening stench of blood and rot rose thickly in the pre-dawn air while screams of horror and despair threatened to drown out the bard?s song. All around her faces were grim, eyes shining with the singular truth that lent strength to their bodies and spirits alike: Though death threatened outside their defenses, their spirit would not be conquered, such a grim fate would not be theirs! And though death take them at the last, to whatever end they would fight for life and for living.

The scouts that had been sent ahead to bring advanced news of the battles that had for certain already started at Lake-town, returned with grave news. "My Lady Rholarowyn," one cried, "The battle rages so heavily that we were unable to reach Lord Elbren and inform him of your approach! I fear if we do not reach them soon the battle may turn ill!"

Jiyadan swore sharply in Haradric, grabbing the signal flag for cavalry and mounting his horse. Kicking his mount, which had impressed him with his grace and agility despite his size, he raced through the camp and cried out to ready swords and prepare for a hard ride. They were already weary, yet their trust in the Easterling's leadership had been at last bought; they would follow him now.

As the command was picked up and passed through the camp, he returned and yelled across to Rho, "Follow with the archers! If the enemy gives opportunity, hit them hard, but if the battle has turned to close combat then we can not risk hitting allies as well as enemies in a volley of arrows. Be prepared to use your swords."

She raised her sword to signal she had heard and agreed and the Easterling whirled his mount and led the three-hundred cavalry that had formed in behind him into a slow gallop up the River Celduin towards the lake. There should have been more, but the losses they had already taken left them with many riderless horses as they rode to Lake-town's defense.

When the battle was but a mile off, he stopped and turned to his herald. "What do your eyes tell you?"

"The smoke is thick and difficult to see, but our allies yet stand. The dwarves are focused on the right flank; they seem about to fall!" the elf cried suddenly. "Where is Elbren?" he demanded, but the elf could not answer. "I see no standard," he replied.

Jiyadan cursed again. "Ready for charge!" he yelled, and took out his scimitar as the order was repeated through the ranks. He lifted his sword and was about to yell for the charge when the faint sound of singing came to his ears. "What is that?" he demanded, and the herald replied, "It is a Mithril Knight, m'lord."

"Then that is the front!" he cried. "Charge!" Three-hundred cavalry charged directly for where the singing came, and as they came upon the right flank, trampled the dwarves beneath their hooves. Those on the right who had been barely holding the flank against the Red Hammer cheered as their relief swept through. Swords were now drawn and those at the rear of the charge began battle the dwarves that were still attacking, but it seemed the bulk of their attack had shifted to the center - for where the singing was coming, and for where Jiyadan was headed.

Those behind him followed his standard into the battle, a black and gold phoenix on a crimson field, as Jiyadan continued his push towards the singing, though now the momentum no longer carried them and swords began to flash. In a way, the horses almost caused a disadvantage in that the Dwarves stood so low to the ground that it was more difficult to strike down onto them, yet they were able to cut the legs out from many of the horses. Many of the cavalry were now fighting on the ground.

They had reached Erinhue at last and were fully engaged with the enemy now, fighting close in with the center. Jiyadan turned to see the Mithril Knight banner suddenly appear to his left. He forced his way through and found Elbren in the midst of the battle, but what caught his eye was the flash of red nearby. In a moment, his mind returned to the boat and Rho telling him of the now Mithril Knight.

When he recognized the red-headed witch from the Inn all those seasons ago, his blood boiled within him and a rage grew. It was fortunate that he had plenty of targets on which to focus this rage, and began to holler curses in Eastron at the Dwarves from the east as he hacked his way through their ranks.

*****************

Meanwhile, Rho followed with the remainder of the forces, two-hundred and fifty archers, and sat upon a slight rise to the right rear of the battle. Her herald described the scene to her, yet there was little they could do. The battle was too tightly fought to risk arrows now. "Where is Jiyadan?" she asked her herald. "I see his standard in the middle of the battle, to the left, it has not fallen."

She nodded. "We will fight with swords." The herald raised the signal flag and bows were changed to swords in the hands of the elves as they now prepared to enter the fray. "The Mithril Knight standard!" her herald suddenly cried. "It is raised! I can see it!"

"Where?" she cried.

"Near the Easterling's!"

"Make for the Mithril Knights!" she cried as she led her company towards the battle. As they approached, she noticed that the Dwarves that had been attacking the right flank had moved center, following the sounds of... "Erinhue!" she cried in unbelief. Though she could not see him, his strong baritone was as familiar to her ears as her own voice. As a result of the shift in focus and the song that sparked their rage, the rear of the Dwarven line had become chaotic and she grabbed the archer signal from the herald. "Arrows!" she cried, "Arrows to their rear!"

From the shore of the Long Lake, a new volley of arrows fell upon the Dwarves on the bridge. Without the force pushing back against the right flank, they were almost defenseless and fell quickly as Rholarowyn's party attacked with arrows from behind and swords in the front lines.

Mirdain knelt in the grass with Idril, while Lord Edlund sat on his horse a little off to the side. There was an uneasy stillness.

Everyone, draw your bows now! he ordered, just to be sure.

Mirdain and the others who were not mounted notched there arrows. Then came the flaming arrow, and battle errupted on Elbren's flank. But the Red Hammer was too far away; they did not attack the center. And there were less than he expected. He called to Lord Edlund;

Lord Edlund, you have keen eyes and are sitting in a high position. How many do you see? I count far less than expected.

As do I. That cannot be all though. There must be some trick.

I agree. Then Mirdain shouted to everyone in his party, We must move closer! The enemy is out of the range of our arrows. Move quickly! Lord Elbren's flank cannot stand the full-on assualt, if indeed it has come to him.

But Idril grabbed his arm; I think we should stay where we are. Elbren would not want us to break formation to come to him, even now. Look, Tempest does not move her party. We must stand ready, here.

Mirdain was just about to protest, but suddenly a strange came flying from behind him, struck Lord Edlund's horse, and spooked it enough that it threw him off. Mirdain and Idril rushed to his aid and found that he was unhurt. They also discovered that the catapulted object was a human head, and Mirdain was revolted. By Eru! Where did that come from!?

Idril pointed over the crest of a small ridge. As she did, a large group of Red Hammer, thousands, began pouring over the ridge, almost directly to the party's side...Mirdain tried to shout above the roar of the dwarves' charge,

We will be flanked ourselves! Fall back! Fall back, and stay together!

The onslaught of the Red Hammer was so swift that those of Mirdain's party who were closest to them were cut down before having a chance to react. The rest managed to retreate in semi-orderly fashion, some toward the lake, and some farther back along the shoreling, away from laketown. Mirdain yelled Turn around and from ranks! Amazingly, they manged to do so.

The right flank, led by Mirdain, Idril, was now spread thing and cut off from Tempest's center group. The bulk of the Red Hammer forces was attacking on Mirdain's right, at the extreme right of the whole allies' line in an apparent attempt to flank. Mirdain knew now that this was the remainder of the Red Hammer's force, or at least most of the rest that had not attacked Elbren. He instructed Edlund, who stood beside him,

They are attempting a flanking maneuver. We must hold our entire line, or they will be able to come around behind Tempest, Erinhue, and finally Elbren. Gather as many of your cavalry as you can; tell them to dismount if they have not already, as we will not be able to muster a charge now. Go then to the shore of the lake and defend the furthest left portion of line, closest to Tempest and Erinhue. Idril and I will go to the furthest right and try to hold them off there. If we can somehow push the dwarves back, be ready to mount again for a charge. Hurry!

Mirdain watched Edlund run off to do as instructed. He could see that there was already fierce hand to hand fighting on parts of the line, though they were no longer being pushed back. He tried to shout again above the roar of battle; Shields! Form a shield wall if you can! Then Mirdain turned to Idril. Now is the time for the bravest deeds, my love. We must refuse the line at all costs, or all will perish. You know what to do.

They ran to the end of the line and Idril undid the braids of her hair as she went. Mirdain, still with his bow in hand, fired shots hurriedly, but all found their mark as if by the grace of the Valar. As well as he could, he ordered those in the back of the line who were not engaged, have your bows ready and keep firing! Most of their forces on the furthest right had managed to bring their shields to bear in the front and had formed a wall, which was fortunate, because the Red Hammer was making its greatest push there. Idril was ready; she unleashed her enchanting locks, and Mirdain and the fighters closest to them became invisible to the eyes of their enemies.

The Red Hammer witnessed the disappearance and were amazed at first. Then a hail of arrows came out of nowhere and cut them down great number, as they were not prepared at that point to face a volley. Then a second volley came, though it did not take down as many as the dwarves began to shield themselves. More Red Hammer kept coming. There were just so many...

Mirdain knew that it was time for him to jump into the fray. Draw swords! he shouted to all those around him. Idril let go her veil and now stood beside him. Together they charged into the line of the Red Hammer. Mirdain's blood was boiling now, and his crystal came to life. The dwarves were dismayed by its light, and by the eager light in the eyes of the elves. They were driven back, but there superior numbers could still not be overcome. Again they regrouped and counterattacked with their full might. Mirdain's party was driven back beyond its previous position before it was able to stand fast again.

Now the superior numbers of the dwarves were proving to be too much, and Mirdain's group was being driven farther back around to the right as the dwarves continually tried to come around their rigth side. Keepy moving back and around! shouted Mirdain, do not let them get around our right side! So the party kept giving ground slowly. Mirdain knew the line would eventually be pushed in on itself and the dwarves would overrun them...

Just at the moment, when Mirdain's company was at its greatest need, when the situation was the most perilous, Mirdain heard the sound of a song drifting through the air, over the din of battle. He knew it instantly to be Erinhue's doing. Overyjoyed, he called to his companions,

harken now, here is a new hope for us, a gift born on the wind!

Some of the elves, Mirdain and Idril included, had taken up the song as they caught its words. More and more of them began to sing. It filled Mirdain with a new strength, and his crystal glowed brighter than ever. It was in that moment also that Jiyadan charged through with his cavalry force and decimated the dwarven lines nearby, allowing Mirdain and his unit to make a new push forward. Mirdain and those around him cheered, but quickly returned to the business of fighting, as the battle was by no means decided yet.

The dwarves were dismayed by the new energy of their enemies, and angered by the sound of Erinhue's song. Some abandoned the flank to pursue it. Mirdain and his company were able to turn those of the Red Hammer that were still engaging them back around until the line was mostly straight again. Some distance away, he could see Edlund's standard raised above the battle. Mirdain spoke calmly to Idril.

It appears Lord Edlund is having similar success. We must press hard and gain some separation from our enemies so that we can gather the horses and give these Red Hammer a cavalry charge.

A cavalry charge would indeed put the dwarves to flight. We need not wait too long though. I will use my power.

If you think you have...

enough strength left? Of course. But you must gather those that we need closer to us.

done. Mirdain parted from Idril and ran along the line shouting, All those of you that are able, come with me! We must gather the horses! He then went back to Idril, who had loosened her enchanted locks again.

Fear no pursuit, Idril assured them. They cannot see your maneuver.

Then we must move quickly! Mirdain commanded his party. Otherwise, the dwarves will surely notice that the line is thinned. So Mirdain and his new party moved quickly to where the horses of those who were not in the cavalry had been kept. With skill and swiftness they managed to lead a group of horses 4 times their number back to the line of battle.

------

The dwarves had retreated back toward Tempest and Erinhue's center group to regroup. Their number was still considerably greater than Mirdain's forces, but they were disorganized and still dismayed at both their failure to break the elven lines and perhaps especially at Erinhue's song. By the time they formed a full battle line again, to their further dismay they say a line of elves now mounted on horses.

-----

Mirdain looked all down the line, and at the opposite he could see Edlund and his cavalry newly mounted. Mirdain raised his sword high in the air as a signal, and Edlund raised his in turn. Then Mirdain pointed his forward and yelled Charge! The whole line began to move, slowly at first then more swiftly. The dwarves at first held their ground, then began to retreat rapidly. The elves cut down the Red Hammer in droves as they charged, and it would have a been a full rout, but for the superior numbers of the dwarves. As they crested another small ridge, Mirdain looked toward the source of the song and found Erinhue with his Mithril Knight's cloak, standing in the middle of the center party, still some distance off. Mirdain knew their could not destroy the dwarves as they were, so he raised his sword high above his head again. His crystal lit up and made the sword flash brilliantly. All those around him heard him as he shouted, Close the line together! We are hemming them in! We must form a more solid line and join with Tempest and Erinhue! And so the flank slowed its charge and closed together, forming three rows and a stronger line to hem the dwarves in. Mirdain looked over at Idril, who was again beside him.

Now is the chance for victory.

The turning of a tide within a battle. Elbren had experienced it many times; and, even now, the flow of energy swirling and seeking amazed him. He had been close to sounding a retreat; the bodies of his own unit were beginning to pile at Erelas's hooves and the Red Hammer had still advanced....

And then the unlooked for aid from the Laketown bows had moved the Dwarves back, even gaining Elbren some thirty yards or so.

Only seventy yards to Tempest and her warriors, Elbren thought grimly as he saluted the Laketown boats. He rode Erelas back and forth behind the line of battle, urging his warriors to "FIGHT AND ADVANCE! STEP INTO YOUR ENEMY!"

Whenever he saw Dwarves break the line, he would gallop his steed to the spot and aid in dispatching them as quickly as possible.

Less than 20 minutes had passed since the flaming arrow had been fired by Anorast's unit.

"Elbren!"

He turned, followed Alandriel's gaze, and saw another small army. Cavalry. Elven. Charging.

Lifting his visor, Elbren squinted as the riders galloped for the field, coming in from the South. At their lead...

Elbren's eyes shone with an understanding and recognition.

Jiyadan.

When the Elven cavalry slammed into the flank of the Red Hammer, the sound was tremendous. Cries of pain and death filled the air just as an Elven song of wind and power erupted as well. Elbren sat transfixed upon Erelas as the newcomers made short work of regaining the field. When Jiyadan's banner appeared nearby, Elbren tried to fight his way closer.

He was startled to see how far Jiyadan's force had moved the Dwarves back. He could see Tempest and Erinhue not thirty yards away.

But horses were going down. The Dwarves were no longer giving ground and were, instead, using their long axes to strike at the horses and hamstring them to the ground.

"ON YOUR FEET! ON YOUR FEET!" Elbren ordered, jumping from Erelas and looking for the team that they had set to take the horses when the time came.

As Erelas suffered a squire to pull him quickly from the battlefield and to the rear, Elbren hacked and slashed his way through Dwarven flesh and armour to reach the center of his unit.

Slowly, the Dwarves had moved into the noose and were now ripe for Tempest's assault....

"Alright, it comes to us now, and we must not yield to them," Tempest cried above the din to the group in the center. "Push back with all your might. Hold your ground. Let us tighten the noose!"

Erinhue's song still filled the air as the first wave of the Red Hammer crashed full force into Tempest's wall. The sound of splintering shields and bone crunched together sickeningly. The Mithril Knights were pushed back slightly under the onslaught, but they quickly recovered and regained their ground.

The dwarves were furious and rage made them strong, but Tempest and those around her were just as determined. It was hard to even swing one's sword because of the tighteness of the fighting, and Tempest had to be careful not to injury an ally in the heat of battle. Sweat mixed with blood and blood mixed with dirt, and still they came.

Then, help came from an uexpected place. Tempest could barely believe her eyes when she saw a strange banner suddenly spring up from the south with the blazing colors of the phoenix. She strained her eyes to see who bore such colors and was surprised to see the Easterling, Jiyadan, arriving enforce. At first she thought they meant to aid the dwarves, but it was not so. The dwarves were repelled momentarily, but then focused their anger on the horses who were unlucky enough to fall within their reach.

"Erinhue... Tempest gasped as she was hit from behind and sent sprawling on the ground. She looked up to see an axe descending viciously toward her, but she rolled quickly out of range, taking out the legs of a nearby dwarf. She felt a presence behind her and swung around, almost beheading the good-natured bard, who stepped to the side to avoid disastor.

"You called?" he asked.

"We may need the berserker after all. I don't know if we can hold this position for longer than an hour if they keep coming. There seems to be no end to these accursed dwarves! What do you think? We're fighting in close quarters. Would it be too dangerous?"

Rho had heard Jiyadan?s command for her to follow and gave her acknowledgment to him just as he and the Calvary he turned towards the battle and galloped full force in that direction. Only for a moment did Rho think about their previous battle with the Red Hammer and how it had turned the tide for the Elves view of Jiyadan. And he had given her some valuable insights in how to command a group of warriors.

Quickly she turned to the archers near her, they were just as ready as their Calvary comrades had been. Though battle weary already, the group of archers, led by Rho urged their horses on to meet this new group of Dwarven scum.

It didn?t take them long to reach the group closest to them and at first commanded them to fight with swords, but then the game changed. The dwarves that her group and later she realized Mirdain?s group had also been fighting suddenly began to move towards the center.

"Arrows!" she cried, "Arrows to their rear!"

And the first of several volleys began to take out more of this enemy.

A quick glace off to her left and the sounds of horses screaming while they dropped to the ground quickly prompted the shieldmaiden to call out for those around her to dismount and withdraw their swords. The archers knew to remain mounted since their view on horseback would give them a higher vantage point.

Rho and the other elves moved closer to the front and pressed on with swords in hand. They too moved towards the center, closer to where the Dwarves seemed to be headed. Metal hit against metal as axe blades and swords met, and Rho?s group pressed them back even further, yielding their blades with skill and finesse. And though the Dwarves were formidable enemies, they appeared to be losing strength, or perhaps it was the strength of the Mithril Knights growing as many of their group began to consolidate near the center of the battlefield along side their Elven allies.

Rho had just plunged her sword deep into the chest of yet another Red Hammer enemy when she looked up for a moment and saw it. Jiyadan?s banner not more than twenty yards away. He was nearby.

She fought hard, slowly making her way closer until she saw him, battling two dwarves at once. Instantly she was beside him and then moved slightly behind, taking the attention of one Dwarf while the Easterling fought against the other. Only a few moments latter not one but two dwarves lay dead on the ground. One met his fate from the blade of the Easterling warrior, the other at the hands of the Gondorian shieldmadien.

Quickly Rho turned to Jiyadan, ?Elbren? Have you seen Elbren!?!?

As Falathiel stood her ground with Telta, Stormy, and the Master Bard just feet away, she steeled herself against the horror she felt as she watched from afar the attack of the dwarves on Elbren's flank. For one moment her elven eyesight seemed almost a curse as she realized what the dwarves were hurling in their catapults. But her horror she turned to silent rage as she waited, waited for the signal from Tempest.

Tempest. Falathiel was both intrigued and slightly intimidated by this intense, no-nonsense warrior-woman. When they had met the day before the Elf felt somewhat uncomfortable under the woman's sharp scrutiny. No doubt she had not failed to notice that Fala had no battle scars, no toughened exterior, in fact very little to give anyone the impression that she could hold her own in a battle?let alone defend someone else. And yet Tempest had sized them all up?her and her fellow knights in training?in an instant and had bid them come. Tempest's exhortation echoed in her mind, "

the bulk of the hand-to-hand combat belongs to us. It will not be for the faint of heart. Our enemy is wise and ruthless."

Falathiel took a deep breath and lowered her elven long-knife to preserve her strength in wielding it. She was glad it was short, for they would be fighting in close quarters. Her mind made a mental sweep of the places her daggers were kept in her boots and belt, in case she needed to switch to their usefulness in the thick of close combat.

Suddenly a single word rung out, cutting through the atmosphere with such authority and power that Falathiel's heart leapt and her muscles tensed. Every fiber of her being resonated to the sound of that command, "SING!"

It was Tempest. Falathiel's eyes lit up like torches and courage, yes even mirth, coursed through her being as the Master Bard answered the call and began to sing. His song filled the air, their ears, their hearts and an undeniable authority seemed to take wing on the air of that battlefield. As the knights on the field joined the song the unmistakable strength of those words, undergird with the power of the ancient music, began immediately to work its magic on the dwarves. Confusion and indignation darkened their scrubby faces and caused many of them to fall back, lose concentration, and even hesitate.

Elbren's forces rallied, and joined by Mirdain's forces and the sudden and much anticipated arrival of the Lady Rholarowyn and her archers, along with Lord Anorasts' forces from behind, they drove the Red Hammer into the center as planned. Falathiel noticed a strange and beautiful standard bearing a black and gold phoenix on a crimsom field that waved proudly in the wind at the head of the charge of the cavalry advancing in front of Rho's forces, and wondered at its bearer. Could it be from the East?

Then suddenly the battle was upon them.

Falathiel swung and twirled and took out a couple of dwarves as she did. Realizing they were pressed too close even for sword-work, she resheathed her long-knife and drew 2 daggers in one quick movement. Just in time she plunged one and then another into the thick hides two advancing dwarves, carefully stabbing just under the helmut and under the arm but toward the heart.

She glanced over to see Telta and Raghnildur holding their ground amid a sea of valiant mithril knights and felt a momentary surge of pride that was instantly replaced with rage, rage as she summoned up the images of the tortured Laketown refugees to fuel her determination to survive this onslaught.

Maneuvering was difficult, and they were pressed in on many sides. But they would not fail. "I can do this," she said aloud, "I MUST do this!" Then suddenly she saw the dwarves begin to cut down the horses and a new rage gripped her and fueled her determination. With every swipe and every stab she cried, "FOR LAKETOWN, FOR FREE PEOPLES, FOR THE HORSES, FOR FREEDOM!" over and over. A blow to her stomach knocked the breath almost out of her and she doubled over, gasping for air.

But the Elf was nimble and even as she lost her footing she swung around and kicked a dwarf in the head, sending him hurling into several others, giving her just the instant she needed to regain her bearings.

She gasped as she looked up to see Tempest sent sprawling and then make a skillful recovery only to almost tear into Master Erinhue himself. His eyes twinkled at the warrior-woman with his tremendous strength of spirit and good humor?even in the thick of battle. She could see that Tempest had said something to the Master Bard for his face changed suddenly, his eyes flashing. Was she calling for the berserker?

As Tempest called Erinhue to sing, the group looked at each other for a moment wondering how that would help. But as Hues voice rose in song and then it went out on the breeze, it raised the spirits of those who could help join in. For a few moments no one knew if it had worked but as they sang and found their own renewed strength the dwarves anger began to betray them. For the dwarves forgot to hold their own lines and were seeking out of anger to stop the taunting singing.

At that same moment almost, a charge of calvary hit the Red Hammer from the side and then another from the other side driving the dwarves into the box as Lord Elbren had planned. But there were so many Red Hammer and the numbers of the Mithril Knights and free peoples were still so few.

Blades were drawn and the battle hit full force on the line. Vana's blade struck with a sickening thud into the body of a dwarf as he came swinging his ax at her. Again and again Vana swung her sword hitting whom she could that was not from her ranks. Once she almost swung into Telta as the two fought against the foe. Both stopped and smiled then turned back to the frey.

With her arms growing ever more tired, suddenly Vana felt an excruciating pain in her head and left shoulder. The pain blinding her as she stumbled and fell to her knees. Then as if from a fog Vana heard her name screamed but it was muttled then she could see nothing but the blackness yet she could hear the constant crashing of blades and axes for what seemed forever.

The heartfelt laugh that had come as Raghnildur first heard the genius refrain from his mentor's lips had gone. As he waited and watched the enemy as they were funneled closer and closer to his and the others' swords, he filled his lungs with a deep breath. The time for merriment and laughter was over, save for Erinhue.

Raghnildur had only seen the berserker once before, at a Bard's Festival, and his heart thought to fail him at remembrance of the sight. Having seen the struggles that had already befallen the Mithril Knights during this short battle, Raghnildur knew that hope of the Berserker remaining hidden was slim.

He began to move away from the group, for his sword was exceptionally long considering his height and he had but one dagger. This Tempest had allowed him, so to throw it would be unacceptable. He cursed himself for not bringing more than the dagger he had lost in Rhosgobel.

As he drew his sword, he murmured a silent prayer to Eru that he would be given the grace to achieve his purpose, be that death or the opportunity to share the field with his fellow warriors another day. His knuckles grew white again and again as he clenced the pommel of his sword, and he brought his hands in to his chest.

At last a dwarf came close enough to have the honor of his first kill there before Laketown. The roar that escaped Raghnildur's lungs was heard by all above the din of battle as he charged, and the dwarf turned toward the giant man bearing down on him just in time to raise his axe.

With a mighty swing Raghnildur loosed the dwarf's head from its place, and swiftly he caught it in his hand before it fell. With a mighty heave he threw the severed head, beard saturated with the dwarf's blood, into the oncoming mass. "The same fate awaits you all! Come to me, sons of Durin the Impotent!" The dwarves seemed to need no further encouragement, for moments later the man's sword flashed like lightning during a spring gale as body after body fell at his feet.

He picked up an axe from one of the fallen Red Hammer and planted it firmly into the helm of a dwarf to his right. For this effort he had to quickly jump away from a new axe that threatened to free his arm from the burden of its hand.

He soon found himself surrounded by Red Hammer on all sides, thanking the Valar that swords were more deftly weilded than the cumbersome axes of the dwarves. Before long fatigue was already starting to burn in his arms and chest. He could not keep up this pace, he had to make it back to his comrades. Through parry after parry, several spatters of dwarven blood and one or two of his own, Raghnildur saw that he had been pushed away from his party by nearly ten yards. Under normal circumstances his confidence would not have faltered, but that distance was a sea of helms, shields and axes at this particular moment.

If there were a more perfect moment for Tempest to call Erinhue's name over the carnage, Raghnildur couldn't have guessed it. For just a fraction of a second, the action slowed and the instinct to look in the direction of the commanding voice caused all around to hesitate.

All but the man towering above the dwarven helms. "That's two I owe you, Tempest," he thought. His sword rose and fell before his fully extended arms, and two dwarves crumpled to the ground. Removing his dagger from its place at his side, with it he cut into two dwarven necks and planted his sword into another enemy's ribcage with his other hand. He was only five yards away...

Above the blur of steel, iron and bronze, for a second Raghnildur caught the gaze of his mentor. No mirth remained in Erinhue's grey eyes.

The sand and dirt beneath Elbren's boots was hard, cold and now slippery with blood. Dodging right, a Dwarven axe slammed into the hard ground to Elbren's left followed by a loud grunt. With both hands upon the hilt of his sword, Elbren plunged the blade into the Dwarf's throat as dark blood spurted out in rhythm.

Sidestepping, Elbren narrowly missed taking an axe blade into his thigh, and again drove his blade into a Dwarf's neck, though this time it was from behind.

The song of the battle had become a steady beat of clashing steel, cries of pain and victory, and the screams of the dying. A Dwarven axe crashed down upon Elbren's shin, and though it was turned aside by his greaves, leaving a deep groove, the pain that erupted from beneath the protective metal was white, hot light in Elbren's mind.

He stumbled when he attempted to shift his weight for the next blow, and just barely sidestepped and regained his balance before yet another Red Hammer Dwarf came at him. It was a blur of red and gold that then covered Elbren's eyes, and he wondered if he was losing, or perhaps even had indeed, already lost consciousness. With a thud, a Dwarf fell dead at his feet, and when Elbren looked up, he was met with the determined face and piercing gaze of Jiyadan the Easterling warrior.

"Mae Govannon is an understatement, mellon," Elbren cried as he raised his bloody sword in salute. There was no time for more than that for the Dwarves were upon them again, breaking into the Free Peoples like bolts of thunder.

"Where are they all coming from?" Elbren took a deep breath as he again lowered the visor to his helmet.

For several very long minutes, Elbren, Jiyadan, and those around them were held static by the onrush of the Dwarves. Above the din, Elbren could hear the Dwarven captains urging their ranks to keep fighting and to keep pushing. Were the Dwarves close to breaking Tempest's line?

Excruciating pain followed by yet another stumble met Elbren's next attempt to shift his weight. Strong hands clutched his shoulders and dragged him to his feet, and then a very welcome and familiar voice:

"I'll cover your right," Rholarowyn said as she positioned herself to do so, "how bad is it?"

"Good to see you, too," Elbren grinned as he parried a Dwarven thrust.

"We ran into some trouble," she explained, slicing down through the bracers and into the forearm of the unlucky Dwarf before her.

"Nothing you couldn't handle, I'm sure," he nodded at the fallen Dwarf.

"Tempest is holding strong," Rholarowyn said, sensing Elbren's question.

"How long ago was that?"

"I saw her line clearly as we rode in, she's holding."

Elbren parried and swung, just missing a growling Dwarf, as a second, and then a third Dwarf suddenly stepped into his sights.

"Where are they coming from?" Elbren asked aloud again.

"From the caves," Rho answered. "Can you walk?"

Elbren tested his leg again with a slight shift in weight and nearly vomited from a rush of nausea.

"No," Elbren replied simply, "but you must keep the Red Hammer moving to Tempest's line. Widen our flanks and move them in again."

Dirk shifted his thoughts back to the ethereal connection he had with his sword while he observed a pair of cardinals flitting in and out of the tree opposite him in the little clearing. The whisper was low and black, but calm. He lifted his face to see that the sun was making its arrival known in the eastern sky, painting the jagged peaks with infinite palate of pinks, yellows, reds, violets and every mixture possible of these. He smelled moisture on the very light but chill breeze from the west.

"It is going to snow a little today," Dirk said as Endl—m‘ approached, up from the valley below. Dirk smelled mown grass upon him. "Found a patch of green to graze on, eh my friend?"

Dirk leapt from his perch and jogged to his mount's side. He rummaged in his saddlebag for a morsel of cramand his water skin.

The black sword's voice was quiet, only a dull whisper of malice as always. Dirk walked to the edge of the clearing and climbed up the steep embankment. Munching fitfully on his breakfast, he looked north, then followed the line of the mountains west to their bitter end.

Black vapor now obscured Dirk's view of the last peak.

He smelled rotting meat, sweat, old leather and rusted steel. Harsh voices laughed and jeered. Neleg Amlug's whisper grew more distinct, a melding of malevolence and anticipation, words of violence. He steadied himself as he had been taught.

He whistled the same song as the garishly scarlet male cardinal had used to woo his mate. Endl—m‘ lifted his head, saw Dirk wave his gaunleted hand, and cantered back down toward the valley and was quickly hidden in the tangle of scrub trees and underbrush.

Dirk became just another shadow in the still weak dawn light. From his vantage, he could hear and smell them long before they appeared. It seemed ages before the orc patrol ambled into view. They were of mixed breeds: one Uruk, two common goblins, of the type that have always haunted the dark places of Hithaeglir, and six of the strange, squat, ill-outfitted creatures like those he had slaughtered on the bank of Celduin nine days earlier.

He could have had them. He knew that he could have slain them all as if they were children standing blindfolded. They would hardly have even seen him before they died. But their bodies would be discovered before he gained Carn-Džm. Then they would all be on alert; not lazily strolling the foothills, joking and swearing in a crude dialect of the common tongue, with the most vulgar slurs spat in the black speech.

Prudence. A concept hitherto foreign to Dirk. His new awareness and Ešl's warnings and guidance held him in check now. There were more lives than his at stake. Indeed, more than the lives of men or elves or creatures. The shape and scope of this threat was larger than any realized, save perhaps Elbren. They had exchanged knowing glances the night the star èarendil disappeared and Dirk fell to his knees in the wild of L—rien. Dirk knew that Elbren had not told the new Knight all that had had known or guessed. But Dirk had guessed it now, too. What else could hold so much sway over the powerful artifacts they had brought to bear to defend Middle-earth: the Sickle, the Spear? What else could have split the Arkenstone asunder? What else had the power to extinguish the star by which all mariners navigate? What else was so precious to Lord Elbren that he was lost, if even for a moment, so that Dirk saw weakness in his eyes?

A Silmaril.

Dirk had not been present, but he had heard stories of the quest that brought Elbren so close to ruin. Ruin caused by F‘anor's greatest creation. It haunts him still. Nothing else would have produced such an effect on him.

Such a treasure could not be allowed in the hands of those who now seek to weild it in a perversion of conquering will. Since the fools had taken it to Angmar and thought to rouse the remnants of that failed kingdom from hiding Dirk was in a uniquely advantageous position...

Dirk listened as the patrol continued east, back the way he had come, so casual was their way that the did not read any of the signs that a rider had passed that way only hours before.

The sword's voice once again became and incoherent murmur of hatred; and the stench of the foul soldiers finally left his nostrils. Dirk descended back into the clearing as Endl—m‘ reappeared. He mounted and continued his ride, skirting the ancient realm of Angmar. Biding his time until the right moment to approach.

Telta still sang Erinhue?s song and it lent strength to her as the angry dwarves hit them. She was ready for it but the sheer numbers of the red Hammer pushed them back.

Her sword came up and blocked an axe meant to part her head from her body. The dwarf was strong and she stepped back from the force of his strike. Her arm was forced back at an odd angle yet she managed to push back slicing into him as she threw his attack off. He grunted and tried to swing his axe again but the press of bodies was great as tangled masses of swords axes and in some cases for those unlucky enough to have been disarmed in the initial onslaught, bare hands made it difficult. There was no room to maneuver.

Vana was close and the sword that she wielded came close but she stopped. Small smiles one of apology the other understanding were replaced by grim determined faces once again as the enemy came at them again.

Wielding swords and axes was not easy. But it was necessary and in that necessity ways were found to pierce flesh. In this instance it was her attacker that went down the surprised look on his face when he found her sword driven into his chest, frozen there as she yanked the sword from his lifeless body. Telta wiped at the blood on her face were it had sprayed leaving a dark smear across her cheek.

There was no time for a reprieve as yet another took up where he had left off. When she would have plunged her sword into the next one she was knocked to her knees. A quick glance showed her that it was one of the knights that had rammed into her. That was all she had time for before two more axes aimed to cut her down. Swinging her sword she crouched and came from below her movements quick and deadly.

Something brushed by her and she ducked. An axe blade passed by mere inches from where she had been but she did not go totally unscathed as it caught her on the arm leaving a long thin gash from shoulder to elbow. The injury was unimportant and did not hinder her as she slashed and hacked away at the enemy around her. Her movements were not graceful though they were effective as the enemy fell.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Fala. She was standing and giving as good as she got. And there...yes she spotted Hue and Raghnildur but he was farther from them than when he had first started out.

One of the knights in her direct line of sight was trying to fend off three of the Red Hammer when he went down. She was there to help him drawing their attention to her as she swung taking one of them down. She managed to give the knight time enough to regain his feet. It was all he needed and his opponents found their lives forfeit. A nod of thanks and he was off back into the fray as was she.

That is when she turned to see Vana slipping to the ground her sword still in her grasp. Her heart pounded as she watched her friend fall the small space between them quickly filling in with the battle as it moved in around her.

VANA!!!...

Tallain felt awkward again once they reached the old ruined Guild house. He was grateful to the Lady Nienor-Niniel for having reached out to him in the way she did, but a part of him was still feeling very detached and as though he was not really part of the bustle that was filtering on around him.

At her bidding, 2 knights showed the Easterling where to fetch some sustenance and he settled himself quietly until the call went forth for all the Mithril Knights to follow their leader. Tallain followed the others, fingering the crystal as he was wont to do in times of worry, and feeling the comforting weight of the longbow on his back.

Once in the square, he listened carefully, heart thudding in his ears, as Lord Anorast gave his plans for the forthcoming battle in quiet and concise words.

He would join the contingent of archers on the walls, concentrating on the attackers coming towards the gates and ensuring no attackers got through the gates whatever the cost.

As he lay his quiver in front of him and checked once again the tautness of his beautiful weapon, the Easterling thought that it was strange that he should be here, amongst people who were almost strangers to him, fighting the battle that he had always avoided when he had been with his own kind.

Grinning he thought about the ironies of life as he awaited Lord Anorast?s call. It came all too swiftly ? a beacon of fire that lit up the greying dark and landed heavily in the dwarven encampment.

Concentrating hard, Tallain stood, drew and loosed his own death onto the army that sprawled below him and his comrades as the knights on the battlement walls began to fire volley after volley into the dwarves milling around the challenge sent by Anorast.

Tallain was soon involved wholly in the sight, draw, loose action that was so familiar to him. He also descended deeper and deeper into the battle trance that accompanied prolonged use of his archery skills ? becoming one with the weapon he wielded until he could almost sense the arrow as it struck home on its target, piercing armour and flesh, raining pain and sometimes death on the quarry.

But still the dwarves advanced, and soon Tallain saw Lord Anorast calling for assistance, and with a cry he pulled around his attention to the bridge, sighting the aggressive and seemingly unstoppable dwarves again and again, creating a corridor for his commander to pass through unnoticed upon his own business.

The Easterling looked grimly down, as someone almost knocked into him, then saw that it was a young boy, face dirty and grim with dust, handing him some more arrows.

Nodding a quick thanks, Tallain felt a sudden tiredness, how long had he stood here, drawing back his arm, and letting his aim fly the arrow to its target. He felt exceedingly tired, and noticed that one of his fellow knights ? Arwen_Sol he thought she was, exhibited similar traits. However these were soon subsumed by the sound of song ? a song that lifted the spirits of those on the walls, and he heard the whispered name of ?Erinhue? as it floated across the water to those grimly fighting on the walls.

As Tallain looked around the battlefield however, he could see certain pockets of fighting that looked to bring serious danger to the Knights and their allies

then he saw a strange sight ? a banner that he did not recognise swept into view, cheering accompanying it as it led a cavalry charge to the thick of the fighting.

Tallain smiled in spite of the predicament he could see those around him were facing. Lord Anorast was calling for a retreat back to the city and the Easterling grimaced before flexing his tired shoulders and falling into his slow, deliberate trance of aim, pull, loose, doing his best to give those who were now under threat from the dwarves advancing across the bridge, some cover and a chance to reach the safety of the gates.

Erinhue sang,putting a full measure of contempt and derision behind the insulting words. In his mind he could hear Agarak responding and knew the sudden breeze to be the dragonharp's doing. The power contained in the tune carried to the forces of the Red Hammer and incited them to reckless fury.

Their lines became confused and the main thrust of their attack lost momentary focus, giving a much needed advantage to the Knights battling on either flank. Brightly unfurled against the angry sky, an Easterling banner headed a mounted troupe charged into the frey and the Red Hammer was turned back towards the center.

"Looks like we'll finally get our share." Erinhue cried out his voice almost merry. "Here they come."

And come they did. With rage driven speed beyond expectation the Red Hammer dwarfs surged towards the shieldwall holding the center position. Fierce grimaces afixed to their faces they hit Tempest's line like a roaring ocean tide crashing against the shore.

Erinhue spun into their charge allowing the front runners to slip past him. His knowledge of dwarven armor revealed a space between the helm and shoulders where a quick and well aimed stroke could make a deadly cut. Drawing both long knives, the bard swung low and stabbed into the throats of the two advancing dwarfs on either side of him. A twist of his wrists freed the blades and finished the kill.

Speed served him better than a shield and Erinhue used it to fell a dozen or more before they began to see his tactic. The next dwarf the bard encountered raised his ax to block the stroke and swung for the bard's long legs. The bard dove over the shaft and cut the dwarf deep on the back of the leg, just above the heavy armored boot, crippling his opponent.

The solid ground grew muddy with spilled blood and still the Red Hammer came towards them. Tempest's company was forced to give a little ground but the line was holding. The recovered success of the flanking manuvers forced more of the battle towards the center line which held but began to show signs of crumbling.

The Red Hammer's leadership was slowly regaining control and the tide against the center line began to mount a more focused attack. Hearing his name shouted above the din, Erinhue dispatched his current opponent and dodged across the field towards the sound.

He leapt forward when he saw Tempest fall but she had regained her feet by time he reached her.

"You called?" He asked in a playfull tone despite nearly loosing his head to her reaction stroke. He was grinning at the battle captain, but her next words leeched the smile out of his eyes.

"We may need the berserker after all. I don't know if we can hold this position for longer than an hour if they keep coming. There seems to be no end to these accursed dwarves! What do you think? We're fighting in close quarters. Would it be too dangerous?"

"Tempest, darlin" Erinhue sighed heavily, "it's always too dangerous ta call the berserker, the question is which is gonna be more dangerous, him or the reason you're calling him up."

Before Tempest could answer, they were rushed by three particularly large dwarves wielding battle axes still dripping with blood. Tempest caught the first one on her shield, nearly splintering it in two. With her other hand she brought her sword up and neatly cleaved her enemies head in two.

Erinhue was having similar success with the other two dwarves, and it was not long before they found each other again and continued their conversation. It was hard to remained focused on one task at a time because of the confusion of bodies all around them. Tempest cast dark eyes over the scene, wishing more than ever that she had the keen gaze of the elves. It was impossible to see more than a few feet above the carnage.

"I can't even tell if the trap is working, if the flanks are closing in behind the Red Hammer. If they are prevented from doing so, then this will be our last battle together, unless we turn and run. Even if our plan works, we can't hold the line forever. Not this way. There are simply too many of them, and they are skilled warriors. We could use the power of Clarion now, though I fear in the end it may bring you to grief, Erinhue," Tempest said as she dodged a loose axe spiraling in the air. "Beliran is not here to call off the Berserker, and I don't know what will happen. But I do know that we can't hold off much longer. You may be the hope we are looking for."

Erinhue sighed and wiped the mixture of mud and blood from his face with his hand. His face betrayed his unhappiness, causing Tempest to manage a weak smile. "I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens. I'm ordering you to use it, as your captain. Just give me a few minutes to alert the others to stay out of your way." She slapped him on the shoulder and tried to convince herself that it was the best decision, but he saw the hesitation in her eyes. She nodded at him. "See you when this is over," she said, and disappeared into the battle again.

Quickly, the word spread.....Stay clear of the bard....

Rho nodded her head in acknowledgement to Elbren?s words as she continued to support his weight, but just then Jiyadan yelled, his words reaching both the shieldmadien and the Elven Lord.

?Get him out of here!?

She shot the Easterling a quick look letting him know she had heard and had indeed already decided that would be best. Carefully she began to steer Elbren through the crowded battle using her left side of her body to help support him, while keeping her sword in her right hand out in front of her, protecting them both from the axe blades still battling those around them.

?I will rejoin and help the others maneuver the Red Hammer ? Rho stated quickly to Elbren between breaths as she helped him step over another dead dwarf, ?just as soon as I get you someplace safer.?

If Elbren had intentions of protesting at that time, they were quickly stopped when three dwarves suddenly surrounded the two. Rho stepped back slightly, allowing Elbren to use his right arm, but she kept her left hand on his shoulder hoping to support him while the two battled the enemy who seemed more than pleased that the leader of the Mithril Knights was now at their disposal. But the dwarve?s greed at the thought of this prize made them completely unaware of what now dwelt behind them. Rho and Elbren?s raised blades were never used as five elves suddenly cut down the three dwarves and they fell to the ground dead.

In an instant Rho wrapped her arm around Elbren, supporting him again as the blood continued to spill from his leg.

?We got to get him out of here!? She yelled to those who?d just saved them.

Instantly one of elves came to Elbren?s left, helping to ease some of the weight, as another elf came approached Rho. ?The bard...something is about to happen

?

?Which bard!?!? Rho questioned quickly.

?The leader... the Bardmaster...I don?t know what, but there is a warning going

?

Rho quickly turned back to the battle and then back to Elbren with a new and growing fear in her eyes.

?Hue...he is isn?t he?? Her eyes searching his, but know the answer already. ?Elbren...? Rho continued almost frantic. ?I?m not...? And then she thought back to her Easterling friend knowing he was even closer. ?And neither is Jiyadan!?

?GO!?

It was the only word Rho heard Elbren say as one of the elves grabbed hold of Elbren's right arm to support him and the shieldmadien took off back towards the battle, leaving her elven lord in the more than capable hands of 5 elves.

Rho battled her way back though the fighting and blooded bodies of her allies and enemies who were engaged in their own battles. Suddenly a dwarf stepped in front of her, intent on halting her right there. With a renewed determination and focus that would not be stopped she swung her sword blade as hard as she could and beheaded the dwarf with one fatal swing.

As he fell to the ground her eyes were already searching those fighting in front of her, and suddenly she saw him. Battling fiercely not far from where she and Elbren had left him.

The Easterling had just cut down another dwarf and had turned around as Rho ran up to him with this new fear contained in her eyes.

?Jiyadan! We need to go! We need to get out of here, NOW!?

As another dwarf felt the sting of Raghnildur's blade, he heard his name being called over the din of battle. Looking in the direction of the voice, he saw Tempest hacking her way toward him. He planted his sword in the back of an unfortunate dwarf's neck, and stepped over the body with three long strides to make up the distance.

"Tempest, good to see you still breathing, I must admit. What brings you to my little corner of the world here? You really must make the trip more often, it's been far too long since I've had company to entertain," the man joked. Tempest narrowly dodged the business end of an axe and quickly informed the knight that it was time, she had ordered Erinhue to succumb to the rage of the berserker.

Raghnildur's eyes widened, and his jaw set. "So soon...I'll help spread the word, captain."

The two warriors began to move off in separate directions as quickly as they could to inform the others to say clear of the mayhem that Clarion would bring.

Looking out over the chaos, Raghnildur spied Falathiel and Telta each holding their own among the Red Hammer's forces, and began to push toward them.

As he raised his arms to strike a dark-bearded dwarf that was bent on accosting him, a blow to his right side nearly took his breath away. He felt a trickle of blood start making its way down his side, for his breastplate now bore a healthy crack which was digging into his ribs. The dwarf who had struck him raised his axe again, but Raghnildur's sword flashed as he began his stroke. A bloody axe and two hands fell to the ground.

Again and again the man's blade pierced the weak points in the dwarven armour, and within minutes he was within reach of Telta. Before he stepped into her range he called her name so he would not be on the receiving end of her blade, and when she saw him he quickly stepped forward.

"It is time, Tempest has called for the berserker. Be careful and remain aware of what is happening around you," he said to her as they fought back to back. He reached over and patted her on the arm to let her know that he was leaving, and began to make his way toward Falathiel.

He had almost reached her when he was pushed over a pile of bodies and fell sprawling to the blood-soaked dirt. Before he could right himself and return to his feet, a dwarf was standing over him, preparing to bring his axe down to cleave his helm. His sword had slipped from his grasp as he fell, leaving him utterly defenseless against the oncoming blow. As the dwarf began to bring his axe down, a dagger whistled through the air and found its home in the eyehole of the dwarf's mask.

Looking in the direction from whence the dagger came, Raghnildur saw Falathiel running across the short distance. He smiled and removed the newly bloodied dagger from the face of the dwarf, and quickly stood to his feet. Handing her the dagger and reaching down to retrieve his sword, he whispered a quick "thank you" to the Elf, and shook her hand with a tight grip. Taking just a moment to catch his breath and recover from the shock of nearly being slain, he leaned on his sword.

After a few gasps he looked at his comrade and spoke a simple sentence to warn her of the coming danger. "Falathiel, be wary of our master...it is time."

It had finally come, the moment he had dreaded since he first became a Mithril Knight, the possibility that haunted his every adventure with them had not only become reality but dire necessity. The numbers of the Red Hammer were more than expected and that now presented a danger to the Knights that was greater than that posed by the berserker.

Shouts and grunts, the screams of the dying, the hollow clang of steel on steel, the sounds of battle raged all around, but did not touch them. The Battle Captain and the Bard stood on the field as if alone

In that moment of grace, Tempest looked upon a face far more sombre, and expression far more sad than she had ever imagined to see upon the Bard of Belfalas, whom she had know for many years.

In that fleeting moment, Erinhue beheld the Rohan lass of very long ago and deep within her eyes was something far more rare,a glimpse of Tempest's heart and in it he saw pity. The Battle Captain returned in an instant when Tempest said, You must do it Erinhue. He nodded, ending the moment.

As the world came back to them a single name was cried out in alarm.

"Vana!"

Erinhue turned towards the sound of Telta's voice then followed her gaze to see Vanaladiel fall to the ground. Tempest moved in that direction and sent out the order to "Beware the Bard."

Erinhue watched as Vana fell, the motion slowed to an unreal speed with every second of the descent captured in deep detail. He remembered the apprentice barmaid Vana had once been when she first came to the Lucky Fortune. That so gentle a creature should be cut down to fall into the mud broke the damn against his anger and Erinhue did nothing to hold it back.

He remembered his last passage through LakeTown and thought of the smiling faces, the men, women and even children gathered to hear him sing, all of them left to the untender mercies of the Red Hammer who besieged their homes.

He looked down at the ground around him. A young squire, the one who had discovered Treble's love prickly pears, lay not a full yard away, his hacked and broken body lying at an impossible angle. Erinhue did nothing to curb the anger building within.

Clarion's dull whine inside his head had grown from an annoying hum to a constant scream for blood. His vision became colored as it dissolved into a scarlet veil and when the anger in his heart raged as violent as the screeching sword's demand Erinhue breathed a prayer to Iluvatar that Carnimriel's divined spell would hold and spare his friends.

Erinhue spent the last of his true vision trying to chart a course across the field that would lead him away from the center line and prayed again that he could hold to it.

It was his last conscious thought.

With his next breath, Erinhue reached back to grasp the hilt of the great runeblade. A wolf's grin stretched at his lips and ice formed in his eyes. The sword screamed its victory in his mind as it was drawn from the scabbard at his back. The scream filled Erinhue's being until it burst forth from his throat in a thundering roar of fury and blood lust that seemed to shake the very clouds.

The berserker was unleashed upon the field.

Vana!!!

Telta yelled out when she saw the elf fall. Her efforts to get to Vana were impeded as she tried to fight her way across the short distance separating them. Frustrated at her inability to reach her fallen friend she could only hope that she was not hurt too badly and was able to get herself away. 'Be safe my friend.' she thought to herself.

Both enemy and ally found it difficult to keep their feet under them as they slid upon the blood soaked ground or tripped over fallen bodies. What she would not have given to have a few feet of room to move. This way of fighting was tiring. Her arms were getting heavy as she lifted her sword once again to block yet another strike.

?Telta!.? she turned at the sound of someone calling her name sword raised to defend herself as her latest opponent fell. She lowered it a little when she saw it was Raghnildur. "It is time, Tempest has called for the berserker. Be careful and remain aware of what is happening around you."

The time had come and she dreaded this moment. He was really going through with it. The battle must be going badly for them for him to take such a chance. She felt Raghnildur?s hand upon her arm and knew without asking that he was leaving.

Her eyes strayed searching for Hue only to find her sword engaged again. She was forced back and stumbled. Looking down she saw the lifeless body of the knight she had helped earlier, an axe imbedded in his stomach his head laying less than a foot away eyes open, sightless in death. She turned away from the grisly sight.

?Clang? metal struck against metal, her hand went numb and her grip loosened on her sword. Slick with blood she lost her grip when the axe blade hit again. Her sword fell from senseless fingers but with it went the dwarf?s weapon. He was upon her in a flash a dagger in his hand. He was vicious in his attack and it was all she could do to avoid the blade as he struck at her.

The dwarf suddenly stiffened, his mouth opened as if to say something then he toppled over as death claimed him. Telta pushed him off of her and grabbed her sword as she did so wiping the blood off of the grip as best she could on her blood stained tunic. Her saviour was no where to be seen.. Her hand was still numb but using two hands to grip it she could manage.

Erinhue?s thunderous cry startled her and she cringed. The berserker had joined the battle.

Vana lay upon the ground in the blackness that engulfed her. She was neither aware of the fighting nor the battle that raged over her. Her body was numb. She felt as if she was in a dream. A bad dream!

Vana suddenly found herself running in the forest of Mirkwood playing as a youth with the other elven children. Pretending to be knights and using sticks as swords. She giggled as they took turns being the one struck down by the others wooden sword. Then bouncing back up and running off to do it again.

"Vana!" she heard her name called and she tried to call back but she couldnt tell where it came from. The voice was familiar but she couldnt place it.

"I am here!" she tried to say but her body did not obey and she knew no one heard her. Try as she might she couldnt move and couldnt bring herself into the present.

She heard a yell that made her blood run cold. She had heard that one before and felt a dread that she did not wish to experience. What was it that could make such a mournful cry. She couldnt remember but she knew to fear it. Was she in the halls of Mandos or worse? Oh how she wanted to move and flee from that noise.

Sinking once more into the dream, Vana was once more back in the woods but this time she was visiting Lothlorien. Accompanying her Uncle the King of Mirkwood to visit the Lady Galadriel. Oh how pretty she was and how elegant. Vana wanted to be like her but she didnt know how. The golden wood was so beautiful but not like her beloved home Mirkwood, for they were beautiful in their own way.

Time passed as Vana lay there in the mud and blood while the battle raged about her. Feet trampling her and bodies stacking around her but she could not feel them. With the Beserker loose she was blessed by the Valar to not be able to move and get in his way. She lay there lost in her dreams safe for the moment from the ravages of war.

The first range of fiery arrows was flying high in the sky, drawing lines of light in the dark night, like sparkles of a firework. Nienor stood back, behind the closed rangs of archers and watched, silently. She had no desire to stand there too, in the range, and to feel how useless her skills would be in an archery. Watching the lines of flames in the dark sky, she was amazed, how beautiful war could be - fairer than a firework, more powerful than an orchestra, yet there was something she could never accept. Nienor-Niniel had joined the order to become a knight, a fighter, a defender, someone standing with a blade in his hands for his convictions, but facing the reality, she could only mourn the random of death on a battlefield.

What was it that had driven the dwarves so far? What fire and hatred was burning in them? What was it that this world could never be at peace and a place of beauty as it deserved to be?

Now in the rage and ruin of the battle it seemes almost unimaginable that only a few hours earlier she had walked down towards the Guild House with Tallain, in a fragile, almost artificial crystal moment of peace. Yet, the battle made every moment the words she had said more true. Courage to admit fear, and also courage not to fight, but to wait and to weigh. So, inmidst of the wisthling sound of unleashed arrows, the cracking of the torn bowstrings, the sparkles of the fire, the clinging of swords, the screams, the orders of war, inmidst the hurry and fury, the aches and wounds and the smell of blood, Nienor-Niniel did not move. She felt almost like paralyzed, as if again a veil was rised between her and the real world of the battlefield. She could hear the voice of the bard rising among the clamour, but even then it did not touch her. She felt no hatred towards those dwarves, and the idea of victory only evoked bitterness of loss - she felt no urge to sing or to insult them, no will to raise her sword to step out and to become a part of the knights again. Her time had not come, not yet.

Anorast's commanding voice ordered the archers to shoot, called the boat to leave, and N-N knew that in any other circustances, she would have obeyed to each of his gestures as quickly as she could. Only, even when the soldiers came back from the sabotage on the catapults, her strange catalepsy did not leave her. This was not the turn of the battle. It would delay a decision, at the best of results. And even that was not sure.

Ç Back to Laketown È echoed the elven voice loud and powerful above the mingling crowd of defending soldiers. The call could not be ignored, and however hard it might be, the evidence could not be denied either: the Red Hammer was not falling not crawling back. As if for every fallen dwarf, another stood up in the field, they were moving forward, slowly, yes, but steadily and deadly, with a grim that filled the air more than the raging song of the Bard. And they were now so close to their lines, that archers would be soon no more help - there would be need of blades and fight face to face, where you could feel your opponent's wrath and strength, Something much more to her liking and much less anonymous than the distant ennemy. There was no way to stay out of the battle forever, when being so close to it.

Nienor-Niniel was too small to see the lines of the flanks that the other Mithril Knights defended. She did not know what was going on there, only could more or less feel it that it was not a feeling of triumph rising from the troops of any side. There was astonishement and fear, and each side, the disbelief that despite of all the strenght thrown into the battle, the issue was not any nearer.

When the first dwarves reached the defenders, finally Nin draw out her sword, watching it for a short moment in the flickering light of the torches. A Rohirrim blade, made for her by Theadon, lighter and a bit shorter than their usual swords to suit her, as she was too light for most swords made for men, and too small for any elven weapon which she could have carried. Many of the dwarrows were hardly taller than herself, and none of them could move as quick as she could. Nin rose the blade over her head, while ducking down, more to protect herself against any eventual strike than to hurt or even less kill. Under the sound of the hammering footstep and the dwarven boots, she felt something approaching. It would rise from the battle field, soon.

A scream.

A scream filled the air, inhuman, fierce like the growning of a wild beast and yet a human voice, a dreadful mixture.

Nienor-Niniel did not know where it was coming from. But in her ears it was more than a scream, it was a call. Ç Come È

And she came, walking upright, not covering herself, straight without any hurry.

Ç Come to me. I have come for youÈ

As if she was charmed, the ennemies stepped aside, where she was going, breeches opening in their lines to let her through, as if she commanded their retreat for a short moment by her shere presence. She had not drawn any weapon now, but still it was as if a music, a hidden power guided her through the ruin so that no arrow, no strike could touch her, she was protected by the call, until she would meet someone in the middle of the battle and their forces would be united, or her doom would fall back upon her. Her time had come.

Now.

?GO!?

Somewhere, faintly, the shout penetrated through to Alandriel?s mind. The Eket almost dropped from her hand and she staggered momentarily, catching her footing and her grip on the blade at almost the last moment. Then she shook her head. So absorbed had she been in the rhythm that had become a deadly dance of the ancient sword that part of her had lost a grip on reality. It was as if the past had been overlaid on the present in her mind?s eyes; going back further and further with each stroke of the blade until she had arrived at

And then the shout had rung out. An axe flew past her head but thanks to a quick jerk only scraped her cheekbone. As if possessed by a will of its own the blade made one more low swing. She did not need to look. Another dwarf had met his fate.

?We need to go! We need to get out of here, NOW!?

Alandriels? head shot around and she realized who the caller was: Rho.. and who she was yelling at.. Jiyadan!

A wave of conflicting emotions swept through her and drove away the raging buzz she finally realized had been there. Where was Elbren? A quick glance revealed he was being assisted by a group of five elves and being led out of the fray. Where was Marius? Off to the side and closer to the centre she saw the young Rohirrim hack away at the enemy but then his head turned also. He had heard the warning. Deflecting another blow, Alandriel called to her small company:

?Move out! Move around! Fight your way through to the banner of the Phoenix.

Just what was to transpire once they reached there, she did not want to contemplate. Of one thing though she was certain, no matter what was going to happen, she would not let down her father?s line, the line of Isildur.

The Elves held Elbren firmly as they fought their way through the ranks but they were so closely pressed that it seemed they would never find a respite.

That was when the unearthly howl was unleashed upon the field. The scream caused Elbren's blood to run cold.

"Stay clear of Lord Erinhue," Elbren said aloud, speaking in Sindarin.

"M'lord?" one of the Elves asked.

"Stay clear of him," Elbren repeated slowly.

The Elves paused as a lull ran through the fighting; even the Dwarves seemed dismayed at the cold energy coursing through the battlefield.

"Move!" Elbren suddenly shouted, "and stay clear of the Bard! Find Tempest!"

The lakeshore was littered with bodies and blood; the smoke from the burning camp still lingered and covered the warriors in an eerie, thick mist that hid them from the waist down. The moonlight above illuminated the scene in a silvery shadow that was so dreamlike that the wild, night animals who had paused in their night's hunt wondered if the spirits of the Ages had returned to shed blood once again in Esgaroth.

Only, upon the field itself, the blood and screams were all too real. Elbren was frustrated with his leg which still refused to support his full weight; it was growing numb and he now wondered if the bone was indeed broken. What he wanted was to find a slight rise somewhere nearby and survey the field. However, those trying to assist him seemed determined to lead him away from the fray and out towards the fringes of the melee.

"Where are you taking me? I want to find Tempest!" Elbren shouted angrily.

"To your horse, M'lord," one of the Elves answered.

That made sense, even though it would keep Elbren out of the thick of it, he would certainly be less trouble himself and of more use from the back of Erelas.

"Very well, BUT," Elbren said, "get this message to the Captains: Close the Dwarves in upon Erinhue....push them into him and let him take them down. Keep Erinhue BUSY until the Berserker can be undone."

"Undone?"

"Aye, someone may have to strike him a blow that will take him into unconsciousness....that's how Beliran does it. I don't know if it will work, but if we can knock him out, we can at least have a moment to determine WHAT to do."

"Yes, M'lord, we will see that this message gets to Tempest--"

"--AND Mirdain...they will see that the others understand."

And then they reached the end of the battle fray and Erelas was called for. The stallion was only too glad to see his friend and enter the battle again. Elbren was aided into his saddle and with a nod and thanks, the Elven Lord quickly checked his leg.

The greave, though damaged and bent, was actually holding his leg quite securely. Elbren decided to leave it on until after the battle. The blood was from the metal cutting into his skin and not from the blow; with a pursing of his lips, Elbren accepted that the injry was going to keep him on horseback for the remainder of the battle before them.

Then he turned his attention to the battle. He was pleased and relieved to see that the Red Hammer had moved into the formation that the battle plan had intended. Mirdain's folks still held the right flank of the field and had not given any ground. In fact, even as he watched, Elbren could see the Red Hammer falling back towards Tempest's line.

Tempest's line was holding, but it was weakening. It was nothing more than battle fatigue from the rhythm of blows given and received; and though the Red Hammer's numbers were diminishing, Elbren estimated that there were still perhaps a thousand upon the field.

Looking to his group, Elbren saw that they had lost the most from within their ranks. The left flank held, but at least half of their own now lay amongst the dead on the field. With a word to Erelas, Elbren made his way around the battle, even wading into the lake, and then around and behind his battle group and the left flank.

A sudden parting in the battlefield, near the bridge to Laketown, almost like a wave from the ocean, caught Elbren's attention. Then, from the right, a similar, though more violent and surging cutting of the ranks...

Mistaking the backward motion of the center line for a retreat the Red Hammer concentrated at a spot left of the mid-point of the line where the supposed rout was having the most effect. The Mithril Knights were pulling back, taking their wounded, leaving the dead, and one warrior.

The man was screaming wordlessly, obviously in the grip of mindless terror, the worst affected of the cowardly so called Knights. They would put this one out of his fright and then cut down the others as they ran.

Erinhue watched them come as a hunter watches game that strays too close to his blind. The wolf's grin on his face spread wider in horrific parody of the bard's starbright grin. Flat,slate colored eyes narrowed, squinting at the advancing line and then, Erinhue began to howl again, racing forward eagerly to meet the coming dwarfs.

This tactic was unexpected and a few of those who would have reached the man first hesitated. That split moment of thought cost them their heads. Erinhue raced along the Red Hammer ranks swinging his sword as a farmer swung a sythe, reaping a gruesome harvest, leaving gore spouting torsos in his wake.

Freed at long last to quench its ceasless desire for spilling blood Clarion hummed as it slashed through bone and haft as easily as through the air. It moved almost on its own, seeking out the blood that called to it.

The sanguine smell of blood enflamed the Berserker's senses and soon this form of killing was not enough to satisfy his hunger for destruction. Erinhue planted his feet and stood firm to meet the next attack.

He now swung the blade in a manner designed to severe limbs from bodies. This had an unnerving effected upon the Red Hammer dwarfs Each one of them had to take firm hold of their courage as those fighting near them would suddenly emit gurgling screams with fountains of blood pumping unchecked from hacked off stumps that moments ago had been sturdy powerful arms.

Many an ax fell with the hand and arm still clutching at the shaft. The heads fell soon after and the bodies crumpled to the ground, but not before the berserker reveled in their death cries and the blade drank deeply of their blood.

The bodies piling up around him soon forced the berserker to seek a clearer killing field. The lines of the Mithril Knights had pulled back to avoid him, but now he turned in their direction.

There were hearts beating, fresh blood coursing through warm bodies to his right. Clarion plunged into the belly of one of Durin's sons, but the berserker was looking toward a small knot of Mithril Knights several yards ahead of the retreating line.

The thirsty runeblade plunged deep,sliced upward and then pulled out leaving a bleeding neatly gutted corpse behind. The motion was repeated in an automatic manner as the berserker tried to identify something in the air, something in the blood of those that held his interest.

Elves. The scent was identified, fresh blood and sweeter than that spilled all around him. The berserker turned, to the temporary relief of the Red Hammer dwarfs nearest to him. He turned and focused upon the source of that new blood.

************************************************************

Teltasarwen had managed to fight her way over to the spot where Vanaladiel had fallen. Falathiel was already there kneeling beside her.

"Is she still alive?" Telta asked while trying to keep an eye out for dwarf attack. Fala nodded saying "Yes she is, for now, but I can't tell how badly she is hurt."

Raghnildur came up to them in time to catch the last words."We cannot take care of her here. We must move back and rejoin the line. We are standing on the berserker's killing field and I don't want to trust my life to some mystic spell."

Telta was looking past him, her face gone pale. Erinhue was coming towards them.

The dwarves kept on coming. Anorast and the warriors from Laketown retreated back across the bridge, watching as the Red Hammer fell from the arrows flying over their heads, and from both their sides. Dwarves fell, arrows sticking from their bodies, often four or more. No single arrow could fell these squat opponents. Yet fall they did, as more climbed over the dead bodies of their comrades. With a frown Anorast realized that these dwarves were driven and showed no sign of compassion for their wounded. It was obvious that the Red Hammer was an opponent which the Mithril Knights were not entirely prepared for.

Finally Anorast and the Laketowners reached the gates, but before them the Red Hammer surged forwards, racing across the bridge in a reckless charge. Despite the best efforts of the Mirkwood archers and the Esgaroth archers on the boats dwarves began to reach the gate. At first the survivors of the bridge were few, and easily cut down by Anorast and his fellow Mithril Knights, but within minutes a flood began, and before the gates of Esgaroth men began to fall to the weapons of the Red Hammer. Just as Anorast called for the gate to be closed, he saw Nin walk out past him, straight towards the Red Hammer. With a gasp, Anorast leapt towards his lady, yet dwarves were already between them. With quick blows the old elf fell his obstacles, but was stopped short by the sight in front of him. Dwarves flowed along the sides of the bridge, but in their midst was an open space in which Nin walked, seemingly entranced, ignoring her surroundings.

Falling back before several new opponents Anorast was back at the lines of the Mithril Knights. Quick glances to each side showed that the rest of the force was just as bewildered by Nins behavior, and by her strange survival. From behind him Anorast heard several footsteps, and after beheading the nearest dwarf, turned back to see who had approached.

?Take one of these, Anorast!? Alan and Rolin came bearing stacks of broad wooden shields. ?From the Laketown armory!?

With only a nod, Anorast grabbed one, and as he turned he saw the two Mithril Knights giving shields to the other knights. The Laketown warriors already had similar shields. With a quick look down each side Anorast knew the thought of the warriors beside him, and it was the same one he himself held. They had to clear the bridge, and they had to protect Nin. None of them understood why she was ignored by the Red Hammer, and they all feared it would change, and the young woman would find herself alone in the midst of the enemy. That just wouldn?t do.

With a roar, Anorast raised his shield and drove out onto the bridge. Knocking dwarves about with both his sword and shield the elf cared not whether they were dead or alive. Beside him he knew the other Mithril Knights did the same, blasting through the Red Hammer ranks, leaving the trampled survivors to be slain by the Esgaroth defenders. Above their heads the elves renewed their efforts, thinning the enemy soldiers down in front of the insane charge of the knights.

Ahead of him Anorast caught site of Nin?s short blonde hair, already on shore, nearing the crest of the hill overlooking the bridge. Between Anorast and Nin there stood still hundreds upon hundreds of dwarves. Yet the Mithril Knights did not stop. As they reached the west end of the bridge they saw to their right a force also charging into the enemy, pushing the dwarves towards the hill.

Meeting their fellow troops the Mithril Knights kept up the pressure, charging through the dwarves towards the hill where they?d last seen their fellow knight. Behind them the Mirkwood elves had run out along the bridge, taking up positions on the shore, still shredding the Red Hammer with flights of arrows. Upon their right the Laketown warriors ran along the lake shore, slaying the few dwarves not running over the banks of the lake. Soon the knights had forced the Red Hammer up and over the low hill, and standing upon the crest, looked out onto the plain where the dwarves had been encamped.

Piles of dead dwarves made craters throughout the area, small open spots in the midst of each. Hundreds of dwarves still covered the plain, but were now charging towards a single spot. Walking in the midst of the crush was the small pale figure of Nin, still moving straight towards a single spot, where piles of bodies rose.

Calling for only the Mithril Knights who knew they were safe to follow him, Anorast charged down towards Nin. Striking away at dwarves Anorast barely had to defend himself, for the enemy was now focused upon one spot, the one towards which Nin steadily walked, and to which Anorast and a few Mithril Knights charged. As Anorast charged through the dwarves, he felt his sword begin to burn, unbidden. Quickly Anorast looked around him, trying to see if there were orcs or other evil creatures among the dwarves, but saw nothing. Yet the closer Anorast came, the more intense the fire of his sword came. Until at last, just as Nin broke through the ranks of the dwarves into the clear circle at their midst, Anorast beheld him. In the light of his flaming sword, Anorast saw the berserker.

The fury of the berserker had virtually cleared the battlefield, and the three Knights in Training had little trouble making their way over to the fallen Vanaladiel at that particular moment. Raghnildur strove to talk them off the field for fear of Erinhue turning on them, for the man himself had admitted that the spell had not yet been tested.

He had just joined his comrades at Vana's side, and was trying desperately to convince them to carry her off when Telta looked past him with eyes wide with terror. Raghnildur did not need inquire what she had seen, for the berserker's roar had quieted as if it had spotted new prey.

He quickly scooped Vana up and handed her to the two elves. "GO! If you do not take her to the others now, she will be lost as surely as we will. Take her to the rest of our company, and I will see you there. Do not return once she and you are safe. Go, NOW!

Telta and Falathiel began to protest, but the urgent plea in Raghnildur's eyes must have convinced them, for they carefully began to bear Vana to the edge of the field. Raghnildur saw the berserker's eyes follow the ladies, and he saw his steps divert.

The bloodlust overtook Erinhue, and he began to run toward the two Knights in Training bearing their fallen comrade. There was no time for second guessing as Erinhue bore down on the trio. Raghnildur strained to match the berserker's pace as he approached and raised Clarion far above his head for a downward strike. The berserker's roar filled the air once again as he reached the three elven warriors and began to bring his sword down.

The clang of steel meeting steel rang across the field as Raghnildur threw himself in front of his mentor and parried the blow meant for his comrades. As he deflected the fell blow he spun to his right and followed through, slicing lightly above Hue's left elbow.

In the beat of a heart the gates of hell were unleashed on Raghnildur as the full bloodlust of the berserker turned on him combined with the fury of a denied kill. Raghnildur's every muscle screamed in protest at each parry, for Erinhue moved with a speed that Raghnildur had never seen.

Twice Raghnildur nearly fell over a broken body that lay on the field, but twice by the grace of the Valar he found his footing and was narrowly able to stem the slaughter of the berserker. He felt his resolve to survive beginning to ebb, fatigue from his body was beginning to affect his will.

Finally it happened. The berserker's rage had reached its pinnacle and there was no way for Raghnildur to continue his defence. In one tremendous blow Raghnildur's parry was swept to the side, and Clarion sang in immediately to give the deadly stroke. It was only the providence of Eru Ilœvatar Himself which caused Raghnildur to trip over the axe of a fallen dwarf, and Clarion merely sparked against the falling man's breastplate.

Erinhue wasted no time, the berserker would not be denied this kill. He stood over his gosling and friend and brought his sword down full force onto Raghnildur's left vambrace, as the fallen man tried desperately to fend off the deadly stroke.

Raghnildur's scream echoed across the plain as the brace cracked and the bones in his forearm splintered.

The berserker brought Clarion to his chest and rared back to serve the final blow.

Vana felt as if she was lifted above the clouds by unseen hands. That gripped her and lifted her from the cold ground from where she lay lost in her dreams.

Pain moved into her dreams. Great pain that racked her body. She felt as if she needed to run to escape the terrible pain she now felt. Yet her body still did not respond to her desire.

Vana gasped suddenly which startled those that held her and those that were near. Suddenly she found herself trying to open her eyes and focus on what was going on around her. The sounds returned of cries and battle. She was being dragged almost as two held her by her arms and moved her swiftly.

The pain erupted in her left shoulder and head.

"Oh......" she groaned as they continued to move her along. Slowly the world around her seeped into her consciousness and she started to rouse from the darkness she had fallen into.

Blinking her eyes to see but all she could make out was more darkness. No wait........ there was light but very little. Torches and fires were what she could see as the blurr came into forcus more.

"Am I dead?" She asked of the ones who moved her onward.

"No you arent dead, thank the Valar! But we thought you might have been." Telta told her. "You gave us quite a scare."

Vana tried to get her feet under her so she could walk but she was weak and was having trouble concentrating still. The blood drying in her hair from the glancing blow. Her shoulder throbbing all the more as she became more conscious and aware of her surroundings.

"Stop..... please." Vana gasped out. "I need to stop a minute. I hurt so badly."

"We cant stop here dear." Fala stated, "But we are almost there, hold on."

?Jiyadan! We need to go! We need to get out of here, NOW!?

"What?" he said, falling back slightly to be able to talk to Rho for a moment without getting run-through.

"It's Erinhue. No time to explain, we have to get away from him!"

"Everyone?" he questioned, only making clear in his mind her intention, but any doubts he might have had about her order were shattered by the eerie howl that seemed less that of a man but of a unknown beast. His eyes locked on Erinhue for only a split second.

"Fall back!" he hollered immediately, "Fall back from the center! Stay clear of him!"

The elves immediately followed his order, falling back from the center but not away from the dwarves. They followed with blood-thirst at the apparently retreat, seeking to drive the death-blow to their foes, but instead the Elves continued to fight with just as much ferocity as before, giving ground but not giving victory.

It took a moment for Jiyadan to orient himself to the new strategy that was being put into play on the field but soon he realized the intention of the other flanks. They were pushing the Red Hammer into the center and towards the man who had at first sung, but now howled with an unearthly voice.

"Drive them center! Stay to the left, drive them center!" he cried out, regrouping his company. Soon most had fallen back to the left and were driving the dwarves into the center of the field; towards Erinhue.

Upon reaching her fallen elf friend she found Fala already there. Hearing that Vana was still with them drew a sigh of relief from Telta as she kept careful watch on the battle around them. Raghnildur joined them his concern for Vana?s well being and theirs having him plead for them to get her out of harms way. Protest instantly sprang to her lips but he was insistent.

Telta froze. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead. Hue?s eyes had turned upon them and the expression on his face was not the friend and mentor she had spoken to so short a while ago. His friendly visage was gone completely masked by that which possessed him and she was frightened. He was headed their way the look on his face draining the colour from hers.

With Fala on one side and herself on the other they half carried half dragged Vana from Erinhue?s reach. Sword in one hand and catching Vana under the arm with the other Fala doing likewise her dagger in her free hand they moved on. Going was slow walking on the slick ground over fallen bodies. They thought her unconscious when a gasp from her startled them but they continued on their path nearly void of the enemy.

?Am I dead?? the question brought a grim smile to Telta. ?No you aren?t dead, thank the Valar! But we thought you might have been. You gave us quite a scare."

Try as they might they could not be as gentle as they would have liked knowing Vana was in pain but they would not stop yet. They were still too close to what was happening behind them.

A few more steps and two figures stepped into view. Sword and dagger were raised to defend and were quickly lowered when one of the elves in front of them spoke. ?We will take the Lady to the healers.? They took her semi conscious form from them gently and moved away. A scream rent the air but it was not the blood curdling howl of the berserker.

Telta turned. Raghnildur!. He was down injured by the way he was cradling his arm and Hue...no the berserker...was hovering over the fallen man Clarion poised to strike. Forgetting Rahnildur?s plea to go, Telta was off without a moments hesitation. All thoughts of her own safety vanished. She had to do something, anything to help.

A distraction was all she needed to get him away. A few moments was all she needed. But as she drew closer it was not apparent how this would happen.

She was almost there.

Telta never took her eyes off of Hue?s blade willing it to remain where it was. She had faith in Hue?s belief yet as she watched she could not help thinking what if?

That?s when she felt his eyes upon her...

The Red Dawn of Esgaroth, Part Three