"Akesh! Akesh!" The foremost Easterling exclaimed as he rushed forward, halberd raised high. Gerithor took a resolute step forward, his sword in front of him in a defensive stance. Gilian fitted an arrow to her bowstring, taking careful aim at the charging warrior. Her arrow flew true, hitting the Easterling in the neck and causing him to recoil back into his comrades. One of them gave a shout of rage while another pushed the dead Easterling to the side, intent only on reaching the two rangers.

Gilian quickly dropped her bow and drew her sword, taking her place at Gerithor's side. The two rangers moved as one as they met the onslaught of their enemies, their quick flurries overwhelming the Easterlings and driving them back down the corridor. The hardened warriors gave little ground however, refusing to run and only giving ground when it was advantageous to them.

Gerithor was quickly growing tired, and knew that it was only a matter of time before he had lost too much blood. The pain from the wound in his side was growing worse, and it was all he could do just to ignore it.

Suddenly, the Easterlings turned and fled as one, as if by some unheard command. Soon, the two rangers stood alone once more, and all that could be heard was the echo of their heavy breathing through the dark halls. Gerithor lowered his sword, turning to face Gilian with an expression that betrayed his confusion.

"Why would they retreat so suddenly? They had the advantage," He said, scratching his beard perplexedly.

Gilian shook her head, waiting a moment to catch her breath before she spoke. "Whatever the reason, I can't imagine it bodes well for us."

As if on cue, a loud crash sounded from further down the hall. Gerithor immediately took a protective step in front of Gilian, sword raised once more. A cloud of dust rushed down the corridor, likely the result of something heavy falling onto little-used paths.

The two rangers waited, unsure of what had happened. To the surprise and terror of them both, two bright orange lights shone through the dust... Like the fiery, hateful eyes of some malevolent spirit.

When the dust cleared, it became apparent that that was exactly what they were. A tall figure materialized, clad in black armor with a blood red cloak that swirled about him like a being of its own. Demonic horns adorned his helmet, and his eyes did indeed appear to be made of fire. They reminded Gerithor of the eyes of his now-dead nemesis, Arnakhor, and that alone filled him with fear.

"You do not know me, Lastborn... But I have certainly heard of you. 'Hero of the North'... Yes, your name has traveled far. And indeed, it is warranted. Singlehandedly defeating Arnakhor, the mightiest Black Numenorean to serve my lord in this era."

"Who are you??" Gerithor asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide the fear in his voice.

"I am he who came out of the fire unscathed. I arose from the field of corpses. I am the storm that will engulf the West. I am Khanar, King of the East." These last words, though clearly intended to be boastful, were spoken with a frightening lack of emotion of any sort that made the hairs on the back of Gerithor's neck stand up.

"But you were defeated... Even I know this." He had heard the stories. About how Rukil, the rebellious Easterling prince, had slain Khanar in a great battle in the east.

Khanar took a rasping breath, taking an unnatural, jerking step forward. "You do not know the might of my master... He found me. In the withered, corpse-filled desert where I had perished he came to me, and took me to his stronghold. There, he himself put new life into me. Wretched, dark life. But it was life nonetheless. I was reborn, a King both terrible and mighty who, with new life, was given new purpose. The East was given into my hand, and with it the power to crush all who would oppose me. My master prophesied that I would bring war to the West, and that blood and burning would follow in my wake. And so here we stand, Ranger. You, the Defender of the West. And I, the Destruction of the West. Are you ready to die?"

The massive warrior left no time for a response, instead raising his warhammer high and striking at Gerithor with a powerful swing that the ranger barely had time to dodge. When it connected with the ground it sent fractures through the very stone, causing both rangers to step back in fear.

"Gilian, get help! I'll hold him off!" Gerithor exclaimed, rushing forward and drawing Khanar's attention with a quick feint at his right side.

Gilian shook her head and dove for her bow, snatching it up in a single swift motion. "We already talked about this, I'm not leaving you!"

She too went on the offensive, but though the two rangers fought in almost perfect harmony, the Easterling easily fended off both warriors at the same time.

Seeing a brief gap in Khanar's defense, Gerithor made a feint at Khanar's leg, simultaneously drawing his dagger and slashing at his head. Khanar ducked at the last minute, and instead of connecting with Khanar's neck the blade sliced clean through one of the horns that adorned his helmet.

Although a competent warrior in her own right, Gilian had a difficult time keeping up with the two mighty warriors and soon found herself on the outskirts of the fight. She executed a quick roll that put her behind the dueling warriors, and as she completed the roll she fired an arrow at Khanar's back. Her heart leapt as she saw that her shot had been aimed true, than it dropped into her stomach when the arrow bounced harmlessly off his armor.

Gerithor saw the arrow hit the ground and his eyes widened when one of his own attacks deflected off of the Easterling's shoulder plate. Khanar let out a loud, hitching laugh and used the moment of surprise to knock Gerithor over with a powerful backhand. He then turned and swung his hammer at Gilian. Gerithor let out a silent cry as he saw the weapon connect with Gilian's torso and send her flying into the wall.

Khanar let out another laugh as she struggled to get up, her arms shaking with the effort. She looked up and saw Khanar towering over her, his fiery eyes blazing triumphantly. She quickly dove toward her sword and let out a cry of pain when Khanar stomped down on her arm, immediately breaking it at the elbow.

The cruel Easterling leaned down and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her into the air as if she were a ragdoll. His gauntleted fingers cut into her neck, drawing blood and causing her to wince in pain as she clawed at his arm in a vain attempt to free herself.

"Are you ready to meet your end, ranger?" Khanar rasped, drawing a jagged dagger from his belt. Gilian struggled against him, kicking at him with what strength she had left. The Easterling barely seemed to notice and drew the dagger back, ready to strike the final blow.

"Release her," A strange, inhuman voice said from behind him. The voice seemed more like a multitude of voices, and echoed off the walls in a disembodied, detached way that made it sound like it came from everywhere at once.

Khanar turned slowly, still holding on to Gilian. His gaze was met by eyes of blue fire.

Gerithor was wreathed in flames, his body levitating several inches off the ground. His eyes seemed to be made of fire and his blade was alight as well. Power seemed to radiate from him, and his face wore an expression of pure hate. Khanar took a step backward, and though his masked face revealed nothing his demeanor gave away his own fear.

"I said release her," Gerithor hissed, the fire in his eyes flaring as he spoke.

Instead of obeying, Khanar swung around with his dagger to deliver a fatal strike to Gilian, but Gerithor's hand grabbed Khanar's forearm with an iron grip, twisting his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The fire that surrounded Gerithor began to spread up Khanar's arm from where the ranger had grabbed him, and the evil warrior let out a shout of pain as it began to burn away his armor.

"What are you???" He asked as he looked into Gerithor's eyes, inches away from the ranger's face. Cold, emotionless eyes met his own, devoid of mercy.

"I am your end," Gerithor said with malice as he thrust his burning blade into Khanar's chest.

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"Well, well, well... A she-elf," Zaskia said, her mouth twisting into an amused smile. "And one of the Lastborn's companions, if I am not mistaken. My, you have been busy, all of you."

"Busier than you think, sorceress," Taliel replied through gritted teeth. The very sight of the sorceress made her ill. Though she was beautiful, almost inhumanly so, there was something repulsive about her that evaded explanation. A rottenness of the soul that was covered with a thin veil of beauty, but could nonetheless be seen clearly.

"Ah yes... I know of Caledorn's quest. But fear not, we have prepared for that contingency as well. Prince Rukil and his so called Rhunic brethren will never leave this valley."

Taliel's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."

"Oh, am I? I wasn't aware of that... I was, however, aware that the bulk of our army has not yet arrived... And it will not arrive until Rukil's army is in the valley." Zaskia licked her lips, an expression of triumph on her face.

"Why would you tell me this if it was true?" Taliel asked. She knew that the sorceress was smart enough to not give away her strategy so easily to an enemy.

"Because, my dear, you shall never live to tell anyone..." Zaskia said quietly, taking a step closer. "And your lover will not save you. He will die with the rest of Rukil's army."

Zaskia suddenly turned to the East, and her smile widened. "Oh my... There's your knight in shining ebony armor now."

Surely enough, Taliel could see a small dark shape on the eastern hillside. One by one, large scarlet banners appeared on the horizon behind him, and the thunder of hooves could be heard.  Taliel squinted, and she could see that the dark shape was indeed Caledorn, and in his wake were hundreds of tattooed horsemen. Despite Zaskia's dark words, hope sprung up in Taliel's heart at the sight.

"You spoke too soon, sorceress. You have not killed me yet!" With a taunting smile Taliel leapt over the small cliff, landing in a crouching position at its foot. Her long legs carried her forward swiftly, and as she ran she looked behind her to see Zaskia giving her warriors orders.

"After her!" She shouted, pointing her twisted staff at the elf. The orcs began to pursue, loping across the barren battlefield with surprising speed. Zaskia herself began to run after them, strangely graceful as she sprinted after her foe.

Taliel slowed down slightly, knowing she'd have to pace herself if she were to reach help in time... If she were to reach Caledorn in time.

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Rukil looked over the battlefield, his keen eyes looking for any sign of allies.

"They've likely been driven into the mountain, my prince," Hadar explained, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. The burly warrior was clad in a suit of supple leather armor, and it was apparent that he preferred no armor at all from his constant attempts to adjust it.

"It would appear Hadar is correct," Caledorn said measuredly. "The brunt of the battle occurred just outside the main gate it would appear."

"The brunt of the battle...? Meaning we are already too late," Rukil said, disheartened by the words.

"Not necessarily," Caledorn replied. "Dwarves prefer to fight from the safety of their mountains. I have no doubt King Dain ordered his army to fortify the mountain and defend it."

"What is our plan of attack?" Hadar asked eagerly.

Rukil pulled his midnight blue scarf over his face, eyes narrowed as he strategized in his mind. "You will take the riders around to the western hills and attack their cavalry from there. I will lead the rest of the men into the valley and attack their flanks. If Dain still has men, we'll have to hope he sends them to aid us. If not... We have a long fight ahead of us."

"I shall ride to the Mountain to send for aid," Caledorn interjected. "There are ways into the mountain that the enemy do not know of, I can slip by undetected quite easily."

Rukil nodded approvingly. "A good plan. I hope to see you again after all is said and done, friend. May fortune guide you."

"And you, Rukil. May the Eldar watch over you," Caledorn replied with a thin smile as he spun his steed around and careened down the hillside.

Rukil took a deep breath and turned to face his men. The Dorgeshi looked upon him solemnly, their tattooed faces betraying nothing of how they felt. The Haradrim gazed down into the valley wide-eyed, a mixture of excitement and fear murmuring through their ranks. The rest of the men, a combination of Easterlings, Khandings, and Bleak Riders, stood ready, awaiting the call of their prince.

"My brothers and sisters! We have come from far away, and now we look upon lands strange and foreign to our eyes! But we have come this far for a reason. If the West falls, the East will follow! The dark lord will burn their towns and slaughter their people today, but tomorrow it will be your homes! Your wives and husbands! Your children! So let us stop him here and now! No more will darkness shroud us! No more will he rule our destinies! Let it end today! Rhun vas nar kehos!"

As one the men of the east echoed their princes words, their voices fell on the wind. Those in the valley heard... And terror befell them as they saw the Prince of Rhun atop the hill.

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This chapter was an ordeal... I had to completely rewrite it several times because I either didn't like how it turned out or it wrote me into a corner. But it's finally done! Whew!

Edit: I tried publishing this a couple times and I'm not sure if it worked. We'll see if it does this time.

Rhun vas nar kehos: Rhun will be free