The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

The Orcs felt the tremor in the ground and the approaching footsteps, growing louder in the distance. Panic spread among them—they had no idea what was coming.

The Orc Captain, stationed at the very center, dared not climb to a high vantage point to observe. Lond Daer's watchtower was still unfinished, its platform shaky and without cover. He knew if he climbed up, he'd be the first shot down by the enemies flying overhead.

He ordered the Orcs beside him to blow the horn, warning those outside to prepare for battle, especially after sensing the ground tremors. But the Orc Captain, hiding among the houses, didn't know that it was the Scale-skinned Hybrids led by the Lion Hybrid charging straight at them. He should have ordered his Orcs to hold their ground and use the houses for cover, not to foolishly rush out to meet the enemy in the open.

"Wait, first the bird-men in the sky killed the first wave of Orcs with arrows, then the Orc Captain blew the horn, and then one bird-man left and landed… If the bird-men are the archers in this war, they forced out the location of the Orc commander. So after the archers' attack ends, it should be…"

Albert muttered to himself, and his pupils contracted in realization.

After learning the enemy commander's location, the main force would charge and assault that position.

This former soldier immediately realized that the ground tremor was caused by those bird-men's kin on the ground. He needed to get himself and his kin away from the Orcs—far away. Otherwise, they'd be caught in the path of the main assault, and Albert dared not gamble that the attackers would spare them.

On the battlefield, swords and blades have no eyes; entrusting one's life to another's mercy is the most foolish thing to do.

"Bird-men" was the name Albert gave the Winged Hybrids in the sky. When he couldn't figure out what those things were, the name was simple and easy to communicate.

"Hey, everyone, listen up. The companions of those bird-men in the sky are charging here. While they're distracting the Orcs, we'll seize the chance to escape. Listen to my command: kill those Orcs standing outside the stone and lumber piles, then run towards the edge of the port without looking back, understand?"

Albert kept his voice low, sweeping his gaze over every face covered in dust and mud, sharing his plan with his hidden kin.

Even the children nodded in agreement. They gripped the weapons scavenged from Orc corpses, held their breath, gathered their last strength, and waited for Albert's command.

Albert stared intently at an Orc with its back to him, distracted by the horn and preparing to meet the enemy with its companions.

As the Orc joined its fellows, Albert leaped from the shadows like a tiger.

His voice, like a war drum, split the tense air: "Kill them!"

The blunted machete in his hand crashed down on the Orc's neck. The blow didn't sever so much as crush, but it was enough. The faces of the people who had been hiding were now filled with anger and hatred. Years of oppression and suffering found release in this moment.

Axes, blades, arrows, even stones—all struck the Orcs. The Orcs never expected the human slaves to survive the arrow rain, much less break their shackles and fight back.

Under the surprise attack, the Orcs could only endure the blows. Their roars mingled with the humans' shouts, growing weaker until the last Orc fell.

Albert wiped the blood from his face, feeling the tremors growing closer, and shouted, "Stop! Strip their weapons and take them! We don't have much time! Before the others come, run!"

His words jolted those lost in the thrill of revenge. Several quick-witted individuals snatched weapons from the Orc corpses and, led by Albert, fled away from the bird-men's assault.

The dying screams of the Orcs and the angry roars of the humans reached the ears of Orcs further away. A one-eyed Orc squad leader shouted, "Stop those human slaves! Shoot arrows! Where are the Wargs? Let the Wargs chase them!"

Some Orcs turned, arrows nocked and aimed at the fleeing humans, grinning viciously.

The Winged Hybrids in the sky couldn't reach them at this range, but the fleeing humans were easy targets.

"Whoosh—"

Arrows shot from Orc bows, flying toward Albert and the others.

But Albert had already told everyone to run along the walls or near cover. The humans scattered, clinging to walls or anything that could shield them, dodging the arrow rain.

No one died outright, but several elderly people and children were grazed by arrows. Blood mixed with sweat ran down their skin, and the pain only made them run faster.

But then the Wargs arrived.

"Damn it, it's Wargs!" someone cried in alarm.

"Don't stop!" Albert roared.

He looked back and saw the Wargs, their gray-yellow bodies thundering closer, jaws slavering.

Not even a trained squad could outrun Wargs, let alone half-starved slaves.

If this continued, they'd all die here.

Albert knew the only reason people could run now was adrenaline. Once it faded, their bodies would give out.

He saw the elderly and children slowing, blood from their wounds turning dark.

Damn it, those arrows are poisoned.

Albert's mind raced. Running at the front, he suddenly stopped, stomped the ground, and turned back, weapon in hand, rushing to the rear.

Someone had to delay the Wargs, or everyone would die.

"Don't stop! Run!"

The fleeing humans slowed, startled by Albert's shout, then ran on.

The lead Warg, hungry and wild, lunged at an old man who could no longer run.

The old man's face was filled with fear and despair, unable to move as the Warg's jaws closed in.

"GRAAAH!"

Albert's roar startled the Warg, which tried to dodge.

But it failed. Albert crashed into it, driving his machete into its belly.

The Warg howled and died, clawing at Albert before going still.

"Keep running!" Albert shouted at the old man, feeling a burning pain in his arm—three deep, bone-deep wounds. Blood gushed from the gashes, pain flaring with every heartbeat.

He'd been clawed in the struggle.

But the old man stopped, picked up a stone, and gasped, "I… I… won't… run. I can't… outrun them."

Before Albert could reply, the next Warg leaped. The old man threw the stone, but the Warg dodged easily.

Albert took advantage of the opening and stabbed the machete into the Warg's neck, but was knocked to the ground by its dying weight, scraping his skin raw.

Now he was pinned under the Warg's corpse, with more Wargs closing in.

He tried to push the body off, but his strength was gone. The corpse rolled back on him.

He was too tired, too hungry, and too hurt.

If not for the thought of escape, he'd have passed out already.

He saw Wargs on the rooftops, jaws open.

The old man he'd saved was pounced on by two Wargs and silenced, the only sound left that of tearing flesh.

Further away, he heard the cries of others and the Wargs' savage roars.

Fury filled Albert's eyes. He summoned the last of his strength, struggling to push the Warg's corpse off.

"Leave him to me. Hehehe, I remember him—a soldier of Gondor. He and his team killed many of ours. Now he wants to escape with slaves? Just biting him to death would be too easy," sneered the one-eyed Orc squad leader, riding a Warg and drawing his saber.

He licked the blade, sneering at Albert. "I'll scrape off your flesh piece by piece and feed it to them."

Albert met his gaze coldly, saying nothing. His uninjured arm was hidden under the Warg, gripping the broken machete.

Even in his last moments, Albert was determined to take one more Orc with him.

The one-eyed Orc approached, unguarded. Albert waited, calculating the distance for a final strike.

But the Orc stopped, laughing. "Do you take me for a fool? I saw you hiding a weapon. How does it feel, wanting to fight back but having your hope shattered? Break his limbs."

At his command, the Wargs charged.

"For Gondor!" Albert shouted, pushing the corpse aside and staggering to his feet, machete raised, bloodied but unbowed.

For Gondor, he whispered in his heart.

But then, new shouts rang out behind the Orcs and Wargs—different from Albert's.

"For Tarnes, Your Majesty! For the Golden Tree!"

The ground shook more violently. The Lion Hybrid's roar echoed through Lond Daer, and three short horn blasts sounded from the center—the Orc Captain's emergency call for help.

Arrows whistled from above as the Winged Hybrids returned, quivers refilled, raining death on the Orcs.

The one-eyed Orc cursed, smashed Albert's head with his saber hilt, and kicked him in the stomach. Albert collapsed.

"Leave him! Hurry and support the boss!" the Orc shouted. The Wargs bared their teeth but obeyed, leaving Albert behind.

As Albert's vision faded, he heard the bird-men landing nearby, the flapping of wings, the Orc's curses, and the Wargs' howls.

Then, darkness.

His body had reached its limit. Albert passed out.

(End of Chapter)

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