with whips. Mailed and caped they were, with high helmets topped with golden crowns. A fear lay about them, for the orcs crouched and cowered at their approach.
'I like not the look of those tall ones by the catapults,' said Belamon, coming up beside Elendur. 'They seem unlike orcs, and yet somehow fouler still.'
'Verily,' aid Elendur. 'It is so. For there walk the fell Ulairi, foulest of all of Sauron's creatures.'
'Those are the dreaded Ulairi?' said Belamon in wonder. 'Then let me put arrows through them both while they are yet unaware.'
He stood and drew his bow string to his ear. But even as he sighted on the Ringwraith's chest, it must have sensed danger, for it suddenly stiffened and looked up toward the parapets. Elendur clutched Belamon's cloak and pulled him roughly down behind a merlon.
'Down, fool,' hissed Elendur, 'lest you bring the whole city down on us. Do not forget that they have seven brothers within these walls.
'But…,' stammered Belamon, 'is it not meet that they should die for all the evil they have wrought?'
'Aye, more than meet, and their deaths are long overdue, for they have lived beyond the span of years allotted to them by nature. But not such as we shall bring them down. Leave that to the Elves and the lords of magic, who now wait without the gate while we tarry here. If we fulfill our trust and open the gate, even though we perish in the deed, the Ulairi will see their death ride in through that gate. Now, to the tower.'
Crouching low to avoid eyes in the windows, they sped toward the western gate tower. Suddenly a loud cry rang out from high above, calling a warning in a harsh tongue. Elendur as he ran glanced up at the many windows in the tower, but he could see no one. A man running just in front of him suddenly screamed and straightened up, clawing at an arrow in his back. He fell and Elendur leaped over him. Now there were orcs at several of the windows and arrows were flashing down amongst the raiders. A second man fell, then a third. Some of the men ducked into crenels in the battlement, seeking shelter from the fire from the tower.
'On, on,' cried Elendur. 'We cannot allow ourselves to be pinned down out here in the open or we are doomed. Make for the tower as you love life.' At that moment a shaft glanced off his helmet with a deafening clang. He stumbled and fell, striking the wall and spinning to the pavement, stunned. He struggled to his hands and knees and tried to rise, but his head was spinning and the world seemed to have gone dark. Arrows clattered on the stones around him as he bent there.
Then someone grabbed him and dragged him roughly to his feet. Confused, he allowed himself to be hurried forward, nearly carried. Still dazed, he stumbled over a body and nearly went down again, but the other man held him up. Looking down, he saw Belamon's face white and staring beneath him. Then there was the tower before them. The tunnel pierced the tower and they all crowded inside, gasping and trying to catch their breath. Elendur stood doubled over, and gradually his vision cleared. When he stood up, he saw the giant herdsman beside him.
'My thanks to you, Orth of Calembel,' he said. 'You saved my life.'
They looked around. Only seven of the original twelve remained, one with an ugly slash down his arm where an arrow had ripped it. The others lay sprawled out in the sun, black arrows protruding from their bodies.
Orth tried a heavy oak door that gave into the tower from within the tunnel. 'Locked and barred,' he said. 'How do we get in?'
'We have to get through one of the windows,' said Elendur. 'We must use the grappling hooks again.'
'How? There are orcs at every window by now,' said another man.
'Our only choice is to rush out with bows drawn and fire as quickly as we can at the windows. As the orcs duck back, I will fire the crossbow through the lowest window. It is a desperate chance, but I see no alternative. It is only a matter of time until reinforcements arrive and we are driven from the wall.'
'Then let's do it now,' said the man. They readied the second grappling hook and fit it to the crossbow. Each fitted an arrow to his bow and had two more arrows ready in his hand. Elendur glanced around and saw each man ready.
'Now!' he cried, dashing out into the bright sun. They rushed out together, wheeled, and fired. The orcs, taken by surprise, pulled back howling. One slumped across the windowsill. Elendur raised the heavy crossbow and took aim at the lowest window. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, an orc suddenly appeared, his broad body filling the opening, a throwing knife in his upraised hand. Without hesitating, Elendur pulled the trigger and the grappling hook arced into the window, striking the orc's chest. He screamed and fell back out of sight, the knife clattering to their feet.
Orth gave the line a heave. It gave a few feet, then caught. 'It holds,' he called, 'though I believe you have speared the fish.'
'Dare we climb with such a hold?' asked one of the Men.
'We must!' shouted another. 'Look there!'
A line of orcs came running along the wall from the direction they had come. Each held before him a short pike.
'Quickly!' shouted Elendur. 'We must climb. Hold them off as long as you can.' And he swarmed up the line hand over hand. The others began shooting into the advancing orcs. Their arrows were swift and deadly. The orcs were in the narrow part of the wall and could only advance one at a time. As each came within range, he was shot down and the next had to clamber over his body. But each that fell was a little closer to the tower.
Elendur reached the window and tumbled over the sill. He fell sprawling across the dead orc, the body pinned beneath the overhanging window sill by the hook protruding from its chest. The room was otherwise empty. He jumped across to the open doorway and closed and barred the door, lest he be attacked from the rear. He raced back to the window just as a second man clambered through it and tumbled to the floor. Unslinging his bow from his back, Elendur stepped to the window and began sending a deadly fire down into the close-packed orcs. Firing as quickly as he could, he took care to send each shaft straight to its mark. Only moments before he and his men had been trapped down there while orcs fired down upon them; now the situation was reversed. A third man climbed into the room, blood streaming from a cut on his cheek. They hauled him roughly over the sill and resumed the feverish fire.
'Here's one for Belamon, you murdering fiends,' Elendur growled, sending an arrow through the body of the orc chieftain, who toppled from the wall and disappeared with a shriek. The remaining orcs hesitated, but then came on again, leaping over their fallen comrades. Two men were on the rope now, leaving only Orth and one other to hold off the orcs. The window was too narrow to allow more than one man at a time to shoot, but they alternated, keeping up a steady fire at the foremost orcs. But still they came on. Orth pushed the last man to the rope, then strode forth out into their midst swinging his heavy staff like an immense club. The orcs fell back before his onslaught, though one managed to land a lance-thrust in Orth's side before he went down. Two more men reached the window safely. Looking out, Elendur did not dare shoot while Orth was among them, but orcs in the other tower windows fired into the midst of the combat, heedless of the comrades they slew.
The great oak staff swept like a scythe, reaping a terrible harvest of shattered bones and crushed skulls. Back and forth the strange combat flowed, the man taking wound after wound but fighting on, smiting down one foe after another as they pressed forward in the narrow passage. Then a black arrow flashed down from one of the high windows, striking Orth full in his broad back. He roared in pain and rage and fell to his knee, dropping his spear. Seeing their chance at last, three orcs leaped up on the battlements and jumped precariously from merlon to merlon, bearing down on the injured warrior. Elendur brought down one, and Orth swept a second over the side with a backhanded swipe of his huge arm, but the third brought down his scimitar in gory triumph. Even as he crowed in victory, two arrows pierced him and he fell across his victim. With a shout, the remaining orcs climbed over them both and raced to the foot of the tower. They were too late. The last man fell breathlessly through the window and the orcs howled in frustration as the rope flew up the wall and disappeared.
'Elendur!' called one of the men at the door. 'They are outside. They are trying to beat down the door!' Heavy crashes could be heard from without.
'Let every man gather by the door with bow drawn. When I give the signal, raise the bar.' They did as he commanded, standing in a tight semicircle around the door, every bow drawn to the full. Elendur drew his sword and nodded, and one of the men flung the bar from its brackets. The door burst open and three orcs tumbled to the floor with oaths of surprise, instantly cut short. Elendur leaped through the door and quickly cut down two more trying to flee. Leaving two men to hold off any pursuit from the upper levels of the tower, he led the other
