Come to Morning Through The Shadows

To War

Home is behind, the world ahead,

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadows to the edge of night,

Until the stars are all alight.-J.R.R. Tolkien

*WARNING*: Depictions of violence in this chapter

"There will be no dawn for the Eastern peoples," Saruman's voice was low as he stared thoughtfully towards the palantir. In the background he could heard the loud shuffling of feet as one of the lowly orc sentries came to report of the army's movements.

"Have they gone?" the white wizard didn't bother to turn to face the creature who was hardly worth his time.

"They have, m'lord. But we cannot arm the rest of the army in time to march. We just don't have the means."

At this Saruman cast a sidelong glance towards the orc, his brow knit together in annoyance.

Incompetent fools.

"Have we not?" He remarked slowly, "The forest of Fangorn lies on our doorstep. Burn it. Build the fires, make the weapons and be ready to march."

The wizard then returned his gaze towards the palantir, watching as it swirled and shifted in color, turning from a dark black to a fiery glowing red.

Yes, the world would fall.

"All will fall to you, Sauron Lord of the Earth," He remarked raising his long, bony fingers above the seeing stone. "All will come to ruin in your name."

"Archers on my mark!" Bard's voice was rough as he peered down to the gate, staring hard at the rows of torches and shields that blocked his view away from the orcs themselves.

There were too many of them and too few of his companions stationed round about to contend with the ever increasing presence of the orc filth.

Still, they had to fight.

Bard believed Thranduil's words, that help would come. That Arwen's brother's would bring aid. Thranduil would not have lied to him.

Still, the prospect of death left a bitter taste in the man's mouth. He feared what would befall his children should he fail in his task. Where would they go? Would they even survive the night, trapped as they were in the lower tunnels?

The bowman cast a sidelong glance towards the sentinel—Arwen interestingly enough—and saw her affirming nod that she was indeed ready to issue the same command he was. She'd come charging from the halls, with her soft voice flying to his ear.

'They were almost ready. It was coming.'

They just needed to wait a little longer.

Until the right moment. He knew, though, that with Arwen's appearance, that such a moment would not be long in coming.

And he was right. Not long after her arrival, as the sentries of men and elves and dwarves stood, weapons poised towards the enemy below them, only firing when absolutely necessary, a loud rumble started to shake the mountain.

Nori was panting as he and Dori sprinted towards the main hall entrance, towards the wall above the gate, where the orcs had not infiltrated yet. His wound burned and every few moments Dori would shoot him a furtive glance.

But they didn't have time to spare. They needed to hurry.

Hastening their footfalls and dodging stray arrows, the pair maneuvered through the rubble that still marred the second floor and headed towards the lever that had remained attached even after the assault the orcs were throwing against the glittering, jeweled walls of the mountainside.