A Paladin's Journey (4): Rise of a King

The orcs marched on and met the Elven and Dwarven army head-on in battle. Gandalf ran towards Arthas and soon reached him, he said urgently. "We need to defend the city! Come with me."

Bard and the men behind him had followed Gandalf and reacted right away, they marched towards the city. Arthas looked at Gandalf solemnly, "I will defend the city. I will also raise the morale of the armies and lead them to victory, don't worry. I just need you to keep an eye on Azog.".

Gandalf looked at Arthas with hesitation for a moment and then he nodded. "I shall trust you!" He rode away.

Arthas looked at the Orc army that numbered more than 40,000, 'They are going to destroy the wall and enter the city to gain a strategic position. If they succeed it is over! I will stop them right there...'. He took off to the skies.

The orc army approached the wall of the ruined city of Dale. As a big troll jumped and was going to destroy the wall, Arthas crashed unto it from the sky, Frostmourn deeply embedded in the troll's head.

The army stopped for a moment, the dust settled as a silhouette appeared. Long Shimmering sun-colored hair with Eyes ablaze, golden wings of light on the back, wearing elven armor of Lorien. The figure had a massive momentum that shocked the army. The figure was in a crouched position and slowly stood up from atop the troll's corpse, on his face a playful and confident smirk.

"Take one more step and I will destroy you!"

It took but a moment for the orcs to recover and attack him. He raised his hand and for a moment, the light in his eyes intensified; he opened his hand. A blast of light directly vanquished hundreds of orcs in front of him the same way Galadriel would have vanquished the one holding Gandalf prisoner in Dol Guldur. 'Galadriel thought me this trick... I better use it with precision. Overload them with the intensity of my power in a wave...'

A thundering rumble echoed in the entire battlefield as a wave of blinding light flashed over all the armies, it even reached the lonely mountain, Hitting Thorin right in the face. The battle stopped for a moment due to its stunning effect. "I didn't slay a dragon and save these people so you could kill them!"

The orcs had exploded and their shattered bones and torn bodies rained on the ones who remained standing. The army was frozen in terror.

He used another trick to make his voice reach everywhere on the battlefield, "No orc will pass this line today, The city will remain safe!". He then casually picked up the severed head of the troll from before and threw it with all his might towards Azog who was looking at everything with rage from atop Raven hills.

Azog used his weapon to hit the coming head causing it to explode, he was instantly covered in troll blood. He let out a bellow of rage as he shouted, "Who are you?! I will have your Head!!". He had also used some magic trick to make his voice reach everywhere.

Arthas provokingly looked at his direction and said, "I am Arthas Menethil, Caladcyll of Lorien, I am the 1st paladin of middle earth; I am the 1st and future king of Lordaeron. Those behind these walls are all my people! Your master fled in front of us, Who are you to stand?!". His tone firm at first and ridiculing in the end.

Azog bellowed in rage again but Arthas ignored him. He pointed his sword at the army in front of him, "Every one step you take, one head will fall!". The elves and Dwarves cheered and their morale rose. The sword trembled slightly in his hands, it couldn't wait anymore to taste the souls in front of it.

He saw the army was standing still, 'It is a perfect opportunity! We must strike when they are down.'. He raised his sword and shouted, "If you are this cowardly, then we will come to you! Attack children of light!". He dashed right into the army in front of him and dozens of orcs were split in two.

The Elves and Dwarfs let out battle cries and joined him on the other side.

All hell broke loose...

Arthas killed and dodged, parried and evaded, stabbed, and Slaughtered. He lost count on how many he had killed. Around him, souls of his fallen enemies circled before they went into Frostmourn. Coldness gripped his heart yet the light was strong enough to suppress it.

He jumped and manifested his wings to fly, He saw the battlefield covered with corpses, pools of blood on the ground. Elves and Dwarfs, Men and Orc alike. The stench of death and blood covered everything. He was the only thing remaining between the army in front and the innocent behind. He hated it, at first it was exhilarating; Killing enemies and growing stronger but now he hated it.

He hated the smell, he hated the fighting, he hated the souls around him, he hated his blood-covered armor, he even hated his sword. But, he had no choice; If he were to leave, the innocents would die. He finally understood why old veterans hated war, it was brutal and disgusting, it showed the darkest parts of humanity.

And yet something within him was craving for more; Death and slaughter, causing despair and slaying one's foes. He noticed in his short break, some were making it to the wall, He dashed there and killed them, mercilessly. He felt tired, exhausted. However, he stood tall for he did not want to see the orcs making it past this wall.

He had single-handedly stopped an army of orcs from advancing, like an unbreakable wall. The people saw it and they felt touched. Never had anyone stood up for them like the man in front. They knew at that moment that they had found their lord, Their King.

The elves and Dwarves saw him and his determination. His figure inspired them to fight harder, they could not let the orcs win. Thranduil had wanted to withdraw his army several times but every time he saw the paladin, he felt shame. If a man can lay down his life for strangers, then how is he, a King of elves, any better if he cowers and retreats? How is he any nobler?!

Thorin had long ago joined the battle and attacked Azog with Gandalf and his company. Azog was on his last breath as he was pierced by Thorin's sword, right in the heart.

Arthas was growing tired. He used holy fire to burn the Orcs but his physical body could not take more, it was near the end of its line. To his surprise, it made him relieved, to leave the battle. Within him, something whispered, 'Give up! You have done all you could. Leave them to their fate. Embrace the cold and become what you are meant to be!'. 'No!' he thought as even a single orc could do many atrocities, if he were to fall now, Middle-earth would be doomed, he knew of the terror he could bring. He remembered the children and defenseless ones as he held on.

As his eyes slowly grew darker due to exhaustion, The wall behind him exploded. Bard and his army marched on as they began slaughtering Orcs left and right. Arthas leaned on Bard as the two slowly retreated. Arthas was truly spent physically. "Lord Menethil, Rest! We will handle it from here!" He sighed in relief as Darkness took him. "That's go..."

That day he made a legend, of a man, no, of a king, Self-proclaimed but recognized by all, who faced an army for his people without fear and slaughtered thousands of orcs, holding back many more. The light bearer of Lorien, the first paladin.