Board Thread:Story Forum/@comment-26149161-20150615222132

The guards took them through the city towards the Keep and the House of the King. Ithilion took the time to examine their gear. The armor was of bronze, but in many places it had been lacquered with wood and decorated with gold. Their capes were of green, as were their tunics, but they wore sashes and gloves of orange. The polearms they bore were of strange fashion, with two curved blades on either end of the wooden staff. They carried no shields. All of them had the Taurfaerim hair of silver and flaxen, braided and worn to the small of the back in their style. As they walked up the hill, they saw elves, both adults and children, gazing at them from windows and out of doors. Some of them looked in wonder, but many appeared fearful and suspicious of the strangers, and the dwarves not the least.

There were five guards at the entrance to the Keep, and they stood up and strode towards the travelers and their escort. One of them advanced, a slightly broader one with straw-colored hair.“Stay yourselves, wanderers. What be your reason for entering our lands?” Ithilion looked at him, and replied in turn, “What be your reason to restrain a company sent by the High King of the Noldor, five of them elf-kind like yourself?” The elf glared at him. “It is custom, usually, for strangers to show respect to those who question them. And the King of Ithilhith has no control over the Elves of Lostaur.” “Truce”, said Celebril. “What is your name, captain?” Ithilion looked over at her. Leave it to Celebril to defuse a situation, he thought. “I am Cabanor,” the elf said.” Who are the members of your company?” Ithilion looked up. “I am the King who we were talking about. The proper term is High King, but that I will let slide.” Cabanor stared, wide-eyed, at him. “I am sorry, lord. Forgive me, I thought that you were just wanderers or beggars in our land.” At this, Ithilion raised an eyebrow. He proceeded to introduce Cabanor to the others. When he reached Thonereth, the elf bowed to Cabanor. “Hail, prince.” It was Ithilion’s turn to be surprised. “You are the son of Neldanor?”. Cabanor dipped his head in acknowledgement. “My father has appointed me Captain of the Palace Guard.” Another elf came running from the palace. He spoke quietly with Cabanor in their tongue. “The King wishes to speak with you”, Cabanor announced. “You will follow me.”

The doors to the palace were of gold, engraved with the Dragons and Shining Sun of the People of the Woodspirits. A guard stood on either side. The door radiated heat, and melted snow dripped down it, creating a sparkling appearance. Ithilion saw it and wrinkled his nose. “How touching. They seem to like my design” he whispered to Arhir. Through the doors, there was a hallway of dark wood, draped with red and green banners. It opened into a wider space, rectangular and pillared, lit by red torches. In the center, between two pillars, there was a throne of gold. It radiated heat, and a faint light. Upon it sat Neldanor. His hair was gold, his eyes were blue, his robe was red, and his cloak was green. He looked at Ithilion. “Who are you that would march through our land armed as if for battle?” he asked haughtily. Suddenly he noticed Thonereth. “Ah. Thonereth. That explains your purpose. Come.” He beckoned to Thonereth, Ithilion, and Cabanor. “What of us?” asked Ingrim. “Do we wait here, as unwanted, eavesdropping servants?” Neldanor smiled, the first warm thing he had done so far. His realm of snow has not yet frozen his warmth , thought Ithilion. “I will have my servants prepare a meal for you.” Neldanor declared. Ithilion, Thonereth, and Cabanor followed him into a small antechamber behind the throne.



The room was small, decorated with green and red tapestries. There was a small table, and some stools. Neldanor looked curiously at the travellers. ‘So, your company is here....why, exactly? I was under the impression you were headed to the southern lands.” “Yes, we were,” said Ithilion. “We come because we have heard reports that you are in possession of a large white gem.” “And you think that it’s your father’s diamond?” Neldanor asked. “I would not part with it, an heirloom of my house, even were it the gem you seek.” Thonereth started forward, and exclaimed “My lord! It is for the sake of us all! If the North and the East rise, all our land of snow will burn in fire!” Neldanor rose out of his chair. “Be silent, simple soldier of the Guard! This realm will endure, as it always has.” Ithilion leapt up to argue, but before he could yell at the king, there was a sound, almost like thunder, from the outskirts of the city. He could hear a whistling noise from high above. Then the room exploded.

Ithilion looked up. Thonereth was lying next to him. There was dust and wood everywhere. They had been shielded from the catapult blast by the table, which was now a burnt mass of kindling. Neldanor was crumpled against the wall. Ithilion ran over to him. Neldanor’s arm was pinned under a piece of wood and was bleeding. He was unconscious. “Thonereth, help me!” Ithilion called. Thonereth staggered over. “Ugh. What Was that? ” he asked. “Catapults!” Ithilion yelled. More whistles sounded. Then more crashes. The door was suddenly knocked in. Several guards stood there. “We are under attack!” Cabanor was over to them in a flash. “By who?” “Falasdain and Megildain.” “How many?” “Five thousands at least.” Cabanor staggered. “Five thousand? There are only two thousand warriors in the city, optimistically.” Ithilion took charge. “Get the king to safety. We will lead a defence of the city.” The guards looked surprised, but said nothing. They rushed to the king. Ithilion, Cabanor, and Thonereth ran out.

<span style="font-size:17.333333333333332px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">In the hall, the rest of the company were ready for battle. Daercrist, Ingrim, and Finlo were by the doors. Right behind them, armed with axe and hammer, were the two dwarves. “Let them come!” they roared. Ithilion looked at them. “There just happen to be five thousand of them. Wearing leather and chain, with tempered swords and huge shields.” They laughed. “ There is nothing a well-made hammer can’t solve!”Arhir looked sidelong at Ithilion. “Dwarves and their toys. A good bow is all one needs.” Ithilion nodded. “Ni celeb Ithil a i ring hith!”  he cried. They burst through the doors. Below them, the city was burning.

<span style="font-size:17.333333333333332px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:rgb(0,0,0);white-space:pre-wrap;">They stood stunned. Flaming stones, covered in pitch, flew into the wooden houses, shattering them and setting them alight. A ram was knocking down the gates. Elves were running, up towards the palace and east towards the frozen lake. Cabanor pulled an ox horn, gilded with gold and amber, out of his belt. It’s shrill blare rang across the city. He yelled out orders. “To arms and to war! Soldiers to the wall! The rest of you, make for the ice!” The confusion lessened. Elves in ordered companies bearing spears marched to the gate. The remaining citizens were moving out onto the ever-frozen lake. The company, led by Cabanor, rushed towards the gate. An iron-reinforced ram was breaking through the gate of gold and pine wood. Before the gate stood two hundred elves. “Elves of the Sun!” With a crash the gate fell. A company of the Falasdain Berserkers, swinging their dreaded double-headed axes, charged forward. Cabanor cried “Archers, release arrows!” A hail of red-fletched arrows sailed through the air, their gold tips glinting in the sun. Many axemen fell, although most were protected by their huge shields. The phalanx of elves rushed to meet the attacking men, crying, “Snow and fire! For the Sun!” The forces crashed together, the elves swirling and spinning their two-sided blades, the men hacking and hewing Elven helms. The Elven polearms whistled in a song of death, cutting down Falasdan after Falasdan. Arhir, Thonereth, and Ithilion came around the side of the enemy force, and fired arrow after arrow, until they had spent all of their red and blue-feathered shafts. 40 fell under the deluge. But the numbers of the men were taking a toll, and Megildain had come up behind the Berserkers. Many Taurfaerim lay dead, slain by axes and saber slashes. More were falling. The remaining elves rallied around Cabanor. They still formed a wedge, although some had lost their spears, and those had drawn their swords. The wounded elves were falling back, while the rearguard stalled the enemy. Ithilion realised he was staring while elves died. “Ni Ithil! Charge!” He drew Helcaruin, which glittered blue and silver with the light of the moon. The men hesitated. Moonlight Blades were a new experience for them. Ithilion was upon them in a flash. He hewed an arm off one attacker, and sliced down another, his sword a flash of light. Daercrist bashed one with his blue shield, and impaled the stunned Megildan. Ingrim was also there, hacking and laughing. “A coward is only good at fleeing. Watch them run!” Out of nowhere, a Megildain commander lunged at him. He barely caught the blow with his axe handle. The enemy switched his grip and sliced at his arm. Ingrim fell with a cry of agony. “NO!” Daercrist roared. His sword hilt slammed down on the Megildain’s helmet. Right behind him, Finlo cleaved the stunned commander’s unarmored back. The pair ran to Ingrim. He had fallen, but was getting up again. “I’m alright”, he said through gritted teeth. “Hurts, though.” His eyes widened. “Look out!” he yelled. <ac_metadata title="What I have written so far"> </ac_metadata>