I had spent several weeks as the Lieutenant’s soldier-page, and was almost driven mad from boredom, when late one night, as I lay disconsolate on my cot, I heard the horns a-blowing. The Lieutenant leapt up, seized his bow, and telling me to come with him, ran outside the tent. The Enemy was attacking at last! Evidently it had calculated on completely surprising these Malledhrim, but its reckoning did not estimate the steadiness of well-prepared troops, with great and strong bows, and such long arrows that, taking them in the hand, one could throw them like a dart, and they would pierce a shield through from front to back, and come out entire through the other side.
The archers were already in place by the time we ran up to the battlements, and peering through a slit in the wall, I saw through the curling mist torches held aloft by dark shapes. The Malledhrim were setting barrels full of tar into the slings of the great throwing-machines. A horn was blown; the barrels were set alight, and then a second horn was blown, and the great heavy beams of the ballistae fell, their slings whirling up and over with a loud whistle. For a moment, it was as if a dragon was flying through the air, giving a great light with its flames, so that I saw the camp clearly as broad day. Then I heard a noise like thunder, which made the stones tremble underfoot, and I had to crouch down and clasp the wall to keep my feet under me. It was well that I did, for at that moment arrows came down behind thick and fast as hail in the hot summer. I peered again through the narrow opening in the battlement, but I could not see anything through the evil-smelling vapors. Then I was shoved to one side by Lieutenant Handelen, who notched his bow through the opening and waited for the signal to shoot.
A great din was below us, clashing of metal on metal, horrible shouting, and all was confusion to me, for I could not see what was happening. Standing on my toes, I was able to hoist myself to the top of the battlement, and below I saw a thick smoke, and through it like a great black wave came the enemy, and it poured toward the gates of the fortress. Some of the orcs were on fire, and shrieking with pain and anger, hurled themselves so fiercely against the Malledhrim that the soldiers were pushed back, and the rearmost line was impaled upon the wooden stakes. The archers were given the signal to loose their arrows, and they shot a great number through the eyes and the necks. It was a terrible sight to see, but it was even worse to hear the cries of the dying soldiers, and I wish I could forget it.
Thrice more I heard the horn blows of the ballistae, thrice more I did hear explosions, and my head was ringing from the noise. I was near choked from the greasy black smoke clouds billowing up. The archers could not see through it and were unable to lend aid to the forces below. My ankle was grabbed and I was dragged down. The Lieutenant Handelen pushed me roughly against the wall and shouted something in my face, but I could not hear him because of the deafening noise. Then his face made a spasm of pain and he staggered back. I grabbed him before he fell off the battlement, and saw a black feathered arrow sticking out his side.
Orc arrows are cunningly made, designed to come apart at the arrowhead and the shaft, as these are attached together with animal tendon that loosens when it becomes lodged in the moist tissues of the body, and if the shaft is pulled out hastily, the arrowhead remains within the flesh to work pain and mischief. Some are made of brittle bone, and some are barbed iron, and these can be very difficult to remove. I shouted for help carrying the Lieutenant down the stairs, and we laid him out on a cot in the Healer’s tent. Firithnir came up at once to examine the Lieutenant’s wound. The arrow had pierced deeply, but not so deep as it might have, having entered his side at an angle, and was prevented from piercing deeper by a rib. The Healer pulled at it gently, and the Lieutenant made a sharp cry of pain, but the arrow did give a little, and guessing that the arrowhead was not barbed, he told the Lieutenant to brace himself, and gave a mighty pull, and the arrow came out whole. He staunched the life-flow and bound up the wound.
Firithnir told Handelen he was very lucky, for the arrow had missed his heart by a few fingerbreadths. The Lieutenant smiled faintly, and told him to see to the care of the other wounded. Many were lying all around, gravely wounded, some screaming in pain, some eerily silent. I tried to catch his eye before Firithnir left, and offered to help, but he ignored me altogether. I found myself very disappointed by it, and saddened. What was wrong with me? I wondered, and in the midst of my sad musings, I felt my hair grabbed and I was jerked down. The Lieutenant fixed a wild-eyed gaze on me. In his eyes flickered something I had never seen before, and I was made very afraid. I pleaded with the Lieutenant to calm himself, that the wound was slight - soon he would be fighting again, and to let go of my hair, which he had painfully twisted up in his fingers. His mouth moved but made no sound, and he was struggling for breath, as if he had just run a race, and his lips turned dusky purple. In great alarm, I shouted for Firithnir. He rushed up, and putting an ear on his chest, tilted the Lieutenant from side to side. I could do nothing but watch. The Lieutenant gasped out for air, and I heard a faint whistling noise. From this, Firithnir surmised that the arrow had punctured through his lung, and air was entering through this wound with each breath he took, and he explained to me later that it was pressing upon his vital organs and kept him from breathing in enough air to sustain life. I knew this already. The lungs are made up of two large sacs in the chest, and these open and close like a bellows. There is an empty space between the sides of these sacs where nothing, not even air, should be. And if the sacs are ruptured or disturbed, they leak like a sieve, and the air will rush in, and get lost and confused, not knowing which way to go out, and it will build up and up, until the chest cannot take in any more air, and it makes the bellows pump fainter and fainter, and then they wither and curl up. And that is why the Lieutenant Handelen could not breathe.
Firithnir took a hollow reed, and inserted this into the wound, and showed me how to clamp the end closed with my finger, when the Lieutenant inhaled, so that no more air could be sucked through it, and when he exhaled, I was to remove my finger a little, to allow the trapped air and blood to escape from his wounded lung. In a very little while, his breathing eased, and his lips turned less dusky. The worst is over, Firithnir said, and once again, he took leave of the Lieutenant to tend to the fallen.
And now the wounded are lying crowded all around my feet, crying most piteously. The Healer told me I must go and refresh myself, being on my feet for these past three days, but I dare not go out to see how the battle fares, because it seems to me it is not going well, if we have so many wounded. The power of the Enemy is grown too great. But they can only kill the body, after that they have no more that they can do. When they have broken open the cage, there will be a few moments of evil, but we will escape like birds to the sea.
