The Tale of Eiadric – Part I

Éiadric felt the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves as he rode full speed over the grassy plains of the Westfold. It was dawn and the mist lay like a grey carpet over the rolling hills. He was flanked by the 12 riders of his scout unit at the end of a long pursuit to get to the fleeing orcs before they reached the shallow river, now half a mile or so ahead of them.

The sun was rising slowly on the horizon behind them casting long shadows as they neared the running orcs. It was a strange time for orcs to be running about this far from the Misty Mountains, thought  Éiadric, as he readied his long spear and braced it with a firm grip. They had certainly gotten bolder the last few months. There was no denying it.

They were approaching the riverbank and now the Riders were on the orcs like a thunderstorm. “SLAY THEM ALL!” bellowed Éiadric as he drove his long spear deep into the rearmost orc’s back. The orc was thrust headfirst into the turf with a bone-shattering thump and without slowing Éiadric pulled out his black-bloodied spear and quickly skewered yet another. This time the spear got lodged in the orc’s ribcage and as the foul creature crashed into the ground the spear snapped painfully out of Éiadric’s hand.

Pushing on with the pursuit he drew his sword with one long fluid motion and glanced around, only  to see that the orcs were falling to his riders’ spears all around him.

As they came crashing into the ford, ice-cold water sprayed wildly about them, adding more to the chaos amongst the already panicking orcs. He swung his blade in a wild frenzy and slashed one of the larger orcs across the neck. Warm black blood splattering across his face as the hideous creature went down with a sharp gurgling scream. He wheeled his steed around sharply and smashed his shield into a charging orc’s face, throwing the maggot back with a crushing thump and a stunted bloody groan. The rest were now turning with drawn blades and tried to put up some resistance. “Fools.” thought Éiadric as he saw more of them fall to the spears of his shield-brothers.

But just then he noticed a faint defiant glimmer in one of the orcs’ fear ridden eyes. Something was not right. He glanced at the opposite bank and saw that orcs were spewing out from behind a raised ledge. Turning to the closest bank he now saw the same thing happening from the heavy foliage a dozen or so yards from where they had entered the ford. There must have been a few hundred of them on each side. Most of them being fighting Uruk-hai.

It was plain to see that it was a trap. And a perfectly sprung one at that. Éiadric only had time to curse his rashness before being stung by a sense of fear and panic. But he quickly gathered his thoughts and cast his feelings aside as he barked orders and words of encouragement to his men.

By then the orcs in the river were either dead or scrambling up the flat banks to join their newly arrived maggot-brethren who were now jeering and taunting the trapped men in the ford. The shallow river ran black with the blood of the orcs and the tension was rising.

Éiadric knew that there was only one way out of this. And there was no time for doubts or second thoughts. They couldn’t go up or down the river and pushing forward meant certain death. They had to go back the way the had come and that meant breaking through the orc mob on the riverbank.

“RIDERS!” he roared “TO ME!”

The rugged Rohirric steeds snorted and blustered as the Riders turned and shuffled to align themselves with their captain. Two were injured but fit enough to ride.

“HARKEN BROTHERS!” he continued, “WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH HELL AND BACK TOGETHER BEFORE. WE ARE SHIELDS AND SPEARS OF THE MARK AND THESE MAGGOTS CANNOT HOLD US!”

He held up his sword, then hammered it into his heavy shield in a rough salute. “RIDE HARD BROTHERS! YOUR LIVES DEPEND ON IT!”

At this he pushed forward and started galloping up towards the bank followed closely by the others. All of them roaring defiantly, knowing that this could be the last thing they do.

To be continued…