The howling wind, burdened with the burning snow of the northern mark, grazed the ridge before the plains. Nine shadows stood tall, nine pairs of keen eyes looked at the open plain and the hill upon the center, on it the fortress of heaps of stone and iron standing guard. The tall, young earl took heavy steps down the hill as he gazed upon yonder. “Fréondas, now it's our time to fulfill the deed that has befallen on our path. We've to move like shadows.”, he uttered. He followed the stream runnig down over the hill, and the warband followed. Nine they were, and clad in shield and hauberk they followed the path.
The young Eorling leading them was called Régnwald. Bright was his hair, and grim the end of his sword. Yrmenlaf, Ethelweard, Yrminas and Gydgar followed him close, loyal companions from his company. Aeschere and Faerhild the shieldmaiden were riders and folk of Forlaw, and they followed him with great vigor, the fire to save their captain Thrymm burning strong in their hearts. Eorcan came through, a young warrior who looked to prove his skill in arms, and last came Zaiweyn, cloaked in dark, nervous in her steps and always keeping a look behind.
Régnwald, the earl of the band of thanes, gazed at his side to Ethelweard. “The horses may go no further. You will keep watch of the hill and wait here in their care.”, he spoke. The warrior went back and gathered the horses, as the rest went away.
The eight of them moved like the northern breeze through the keenly watched field. They made for the hill whereupon the fortress stood, where fell eyes were on alert for the Eorlings. They were quick and light on their feet, even as at times their armor and swords gave a glint of steel over the bushes and thickets they went through, they made their way to the root of the hill. As they came to lean on the hill and catch their breath, the wind brought towards them a foul stench. Aeschere's face changed to an expression of disgust, “There is an orcish scourge in this place. The wind reeks of it.”. He spit on the ground. Gydgar took in a long breath through his nose. “Smells like things for us to kill.”, he grinned. Régnwald was looking up the edge of the hill, where the battlements of the wall could be seen. They had to climb the steep hill and make for the wall unseen.
They agreed to climb in two groups, the first having Régnwald, Aeschere, Yrminas and Zaiweyn. So the band began to climb. As the barren plain behind them got smaller, they looked for any stray rock or root to grab on. That is when the young earl put his foot on a rock which broke, and fell down the hill, knocking down with him Yrminas as he struggled to balance. Zaiweyn had also stumbled to find herself slipping down the ridge, but Aeschere had found good footing and made the climb. He looked behind to see the warband by the foot of the hill, and he hid himself behind the ridge. Now he was in sight of foul eyes, his discovery only a matter of time. In that moment, Eorcan dared the climb. He held strong as he grabbed the side of the hill, and quickly made to the top, to Aeschere’s side.
The two warriors, hiding behind the ridge, saw a party of orcs fast approaching. They walked out the gates and made way in their savage manner, pushing and cursing in their guttural tongue as they went. But Aeschere’s byrnie gave a spark to their leader’s eyes, and with a shriek he pointed at the thane. They were discovered, their cover blown. That is when Aeschere stood up in his might, unslinging his shield from his back and drawing his gleaming steel. “Now is the time for clash of arms with the foe! Stand by me in battle, Eorcan, our friends’ aid must come to us!” he spoke. Eorcan rised as well, brandising his arms. The band of orcs charged at the warriors.
Aeschere charged the first orc with an insane fury. He bashed his face with his shield, knocking him out of his way. He then clashed his sword with the other orc, breaking his sword in half and slashing his flesh. He swinged and bashed as the orcs throwed themselves against him, only to be hewn aside with missing limbs and gushing blood. Eorcan followed him into battle with fierce fury, smiting the helm and skull of one with a single stroke of his sword. The rest of the orc band stood back as they moved to surround the two. Then, arrows came flying from their side, as the rest of the Eorlings ran around the hill and made for their side through the open path. ''In the hopes of surprise, yet that we have lost! Forth to save our fellow men!' Faerhild cried. She sprinted up the slope alongside Gydgar, and she was the first to throw herself agains the creatures.
As the warband came together and cut their way through to front of the gates, they beheld the sight of the proper orc camp within. Orc horns were blowing twisted notes in a proper alarm. “Stand together!” a voice called, as more orcs rushed out of the gate to meet the remnants of their unfately patrol. A brief moment of stillness hanged. Régnwald rallied the band around him, and they locked shields. In a storm of dart and arrow, the orc reinforcements ran in a charge towards the shieldwall. Aeschere locked his shield with Eorcan who was right beside him. “Come forth, spawns of the enemy!” he shouted as the orcs smashed against them. He quickly brought the end of the one in front of him with a thundering strike over his shield.
They fought fiercely, the shieldwall holding the brunt of the attack while Yrmelaf struck over the shields with his mighty spear, and Yrminas sending deadly hails of arrows at the larger beasts who dared push back one of the shieldbearers. That is when Eorcan, slashing the leg of one of the orcs who were charging Gydgar, left an opening and took a black feathered arrow in his leg. Yrmenlaf pulled him back as the shieldwall closed again, and Zaiweyn stepped behind and down the hill, the sights and gore of the battle had beaten her will. The remaining pushed and stabbed the fallen, holding together as stray arrows hit their shields. Soon, a fell voice gave a cry, and the orcs withdrew to the gate where they locked their shields, plugging the entrance. Their archers had climbed up the walls and were now nocking arrows into their bows.
The warband went in disarray. Hail upon hail of arrows smashed against their shields. As the men tried to speak to each other they were silenced by the whistles of darts and javelins. As they stood in the open, a deadly volley came at them. Gydgar had lowered his shield to have a sight of the orcs, and an arrow was caught in his shoulder. He looked over to Yrminas as he stepped back and took off his suffocating helm in anguish, and saw a a thin shaft with black raggy fetters stick imbedded within his right shoulders. Gydgar bellowed out, “I am not standing and letting myself be shot like a cowering dog!” With that, and with sluggish movements he started to charge forth with his shield raised high and sword out ready. Even as Zaiweyn came back and told them another host of orcs approached from the west, she was not heeded in the heat of battle. The shield wall broke and the warriors charged at the gate one after another.
Faerhild had charged first with Gydgar. As they came close, the savages broke formation and charged as well. They fought side to side as more of the warband came charging, but they did not come to clash before an orc neared Faerhild, thrusting a spear into the side of her gut. She slid out of the spear slowly and fell on her back, only to have the orcs to kick her head, leaving her fallen on the ground. Aeschere seemed not to hear or see, as he stared into the fallen body of Faerhild. He slowly lifted his gaze into the orcs giving shrieks as they taunted the Eorlings. A red mist descended on him and “Faerhild!” he cried, he charged the orcs under a volley of arrows. The rest of the band reached their ranks and they began their bloody business. “Vengeance! Vengeance for the fallen!” Aeschere cried, as he plunged his sword deep into the bosom of his foe. He was fighting as though he had lost his mind. He made his way towards the gate, slaying those who rose up to him in challenge of arms. Régnwald swatted one of the blades aside, even as another drew blood with a deep flick from his side. Son of Régn hacked a grim smile, his head slamming into the Orc's face as he fell on his knees. Eorcan and Yrmenlaf rushed to drag him and Faerhild out. The assault had at the gates had been reduced to Gydgar and Aeschere.
Gydgar swung his sword and shield from left to right, blocking many and taking few. His voice came loud and hoarse, “Sing of me in song, though keep your tongues to sing!!”. Aeschere was in grim bloodlust as he dipped his sword in the blood of orc, but the orcs started to run and pass by them, going for the wounded. Their push had ended and their position was being surrounded. Gydgar shouted, “Flee before I throw you out of here myself!”. He took another arrow in his shoulder, and that is when Aeschere had realized the battle was lost. “All those who have fallen! In their honor, I may not run from this foe. Thrymm is yet waiting inside!” he spoke, and swung away another orc sword. “I said run, not fight! Get moving!”, Gydgar bellowed out to Aeschere, the slip of his concentration making him get a hit to his shoulder and breath came heavy.
Aeschere started bashing his way back the path, but Gydgar stood his ground. Arrows stuck out of his shoulders and his chest was bloodily cloven, yet he stood bravely and challenged the orcs in combat. Zaiweyn had already made off carrying Faerhild with her, leaving the rest of the warband to their fates. Yet Régnwald was on the ground, being dragged away by Yrminas and Yrmenlaf. Eorcan was pierced by an arrow on his shoulder, but could still hold his shield high. Aeschere ran down the hill to his friends, and then stopped and turned towards the orcs running down the hill. He shouted behind, “Get them off the hill! I will slow them down if I can!” As the wounded Horselord was being carried by the two Eorlings, he watched the coming orcs with half closed eyes and Aeschere standing before the approaching party. “Aeschere, don't be a fool.. the living owe the dead much, but not their own lives.” he shouted. And so Aeschere, son of Aethelhelm gave a cry of anger and grief, and he swore, “This is not over, you cowards! Here I make my oath, I will be back! Even if it comes to that I alone must come and slaughter every single one of you by myself, you will pay for what you’ve done!” With that, he turned and joined the retreat. The warband, harassed still by the orcs who strayed from the fight to rush the wounded, dragged their fallen down along the path. The last they saw of Gydgar was when he was tackled down by one of the orcs, and after that their hearts would not allow to look up the hill again.
The warband made down the hill. Eorcan took another arrow as he stumbled away, and he fell on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his leg. Orcs were sprinting down the hill, it was only a matter of time before they caught the fleeing Eorlings. Yrmenlaf gripped his spear tight, “We must away! Quickly!” he shouted. Yrminas then kneeled by Régnwald, lifting him on his shoulder with all strength left in his arms. And so did Aeschere, he had taken hold of Eorcan. They ran away towards the woods in a final act of endurance. They did not stop until the shouts and cries of the orcs had fallen silent behind them, and doing so they lost sight of each other. Aeschere had ran away With Eorcan, while Yrmenlaf and Yrminas had made off with their mortally wounded captain. Nine they were, when they looked over the plains and into the fortress where their fell fate awaited. Now five of them still stood on their feet. The battle was lost. Their plan to rescue Thrymm had failed.
