Crisis in Gondamon - The Siege

The garrison of the combined troops of three allies gathered together in the courtyard of Gondamon. The Regiment lined up in formation to be inspected, followed by the warriors of Durin's folk and Bar-en-Acharn.

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The Regiment was tasked with defending the main gates against the approaching enemy, while our allies manned the ramparts and watched for any sign of the goblin forces.

One of the other guards that were positioned with me at the northern gate, Gamdrong, supposedly was touched by some Elf-magic and felt queer. He had to be sat down until he recovered. In the meantime, I offered some advise given to me from Thonin about Elf-wine.

As he recovered and got to his feet, Zokhoso Rundod came down and informed us we were needed and to follow him. I didn't really catch any details, only that something was happening.

The whole garrison, elves, dwarves, even hobbits and a manling or two gathered at the top of the fort and were split into two battalions. I was with Lord Thordralin's group, tasked to defend the southern gate. That is when the goblins came. Gondamon was under attack.

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   I stood at my post with Nolf and defended it until we were called to reinforce the other gates.

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

    

    

    

    
3. My brothers and sisters took many heavy blows. We took casualties - the local guards did not make it. Fire scorched us, many were burnt. But the waves of goblins started thinning and the packs of feral wolves stopped coming. But just when we thought it over, we heard the flap of leathery wings above.

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

    

    

    

    

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   Not one but two great drakes descended upon us, along with their cruel master.

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

   

    

We slew them, and their master followed after. But not without giving me something to remember him by.

In the battle I was badly scorched from dragon-flame, though my masked helm and armour protected me from the worst of it. A couple slashes and a bad burn all down my right side. Once the battle was won, I fell. Despite my best efforts to put on a brave face, I needed a healer. I was carried to safety (carefully navigating my old enemy - stairs.) while others fetched help.

I was tended to by one of Durin's Folk and a hobbit of Bar-en-Acharn, and many came to visit me either from curiosity or concern.

 

 

I missed much in my daze, but I noticed the different kins joking about Hroif's soup, sharing ales, swapping tales and then wishing each other farewell. Noticing the toasts of pints, I shouted something about leaving the injured thirsty which of course ended with me sipping an ale in the corner, whereupon the remaining stragglers joined me in banter and more tales. Something about black bean water and tea, and Thordralin making awful frog-related puns.

As everyone retired to their bunks or tended to the cookfires, Lokhel kept me company until it was time for me to be escorted to an empty bunk where the herbalists and healers could keep an eye on me and reapply their poultices and change bandages.

 

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The Blue Mountain troops who attended the battle, were presented with a token or badge, for their gallant efforts in this battle.