Ride To Death

Rain had continued to fall, but it seemed to matter little to those upon the field of battle. If the death of their King had not stirred the blood-lust within their hearts, then surely their powerful, unanimous cry of “Death!” would. The Rohirrim charged forward towards the Southrons in their path, weapons raised, ready to meet any enemy that was unlucky to be in their way. Wicked grins and calls of battle were the answer of the Southrons, for they knew that this was a desperate and futile movement at best. Though the Rohirrim had allies on their way, the charge had been called much too fast; the horsemen would face being cut off from pressing their attack.

When finally the host of Rohan had met the Southrons, the clash was as bloodied and vicious as had been at the initial charge. Ulfric and Cedoric rode hard into a number of the dark-skinned men, piercing their blades into any bit of body they could come into contact with. As Ulfric’s blade drove deep into the skull of one of the Haradrim, Cedoric’s spear pierced at the heart of one as well. They used their fury to their advantage, and with the adrenaline rushing through their veins, they felt as if nothing could stop them. Not even death.

Their attention was draw to a loud bellowing not far from them, where one of the mumakil had raised up briefly, only to crash it’s large feet onto a fair number of Riders. The sound had been sickening, the crunch of bones and stifled cries of their brothers in arms forever echoing in their memory. Ulfric glanced to Cedoric, sweat and blood spatter glistening on his face, rain dripping down to cause it to mix. “What say we avenge our brothers?” He said with a hardened look upon his face, flicking the blood on his blade off to the side.

Cedoric caught his breath, jaw clenching in anger. He said no words in reply to his brother, instead giving him a nod.

“We will aim to hit behind each foot. The tendon. Make sure to cut deep. You focus on the left, I will focus on the right.” His hand twirled the blade he held, eyeing the direct route they would take.

“I am ready when you are, Ulfric.” Cedoric stared hard at their target, his eyes wild with the fury of battle.

The brothers kicked off together, slowly picking up speed as they worked their way towards the massive beast. Though their horses had desired nothing more than to flee such a large threat, they kept on, swerving every so often to avoid various enemies. One Southron in particular had caught on to the brothers’ movement, swiftly making his way to intercept. As Cedoric’s eye caught sight of this, he hefted his spear up, then tossed it through the air.

The man’s eyes widened as he saw his fate coming to meet his skull, the sharp end of the weapon driving clean through his skull, sending him off of his horse. Cedoric swiftly drew his longsword and prepared it as he and Ulfric finally approached the painted mumak. Their steeds screamed in protest at the proximity, but loyally listened to the brothers that had grown with them.

“NOW!” Ulfric cried out as they passed the first set of legs. The glint of their steel blades flickered in the air, raising up and then crashing down onto the tough flesh of the mumak. In answer to the pain it felt, it let out a loud trumpeting sound. The archers on to top of the beast began to cry out in panic, knowing something was terribly wrong. Ulfric and Cedoric continued through with their quick rush, then striking their blades down on the back set of legs.

It was more than enough to cause the mumak to come crashing down, and those on top were soon crushed by the creature’s overwhelming weight. It was a small victory, but the brothers knew that it would do little use. Ulfric glanced about the heat of the battle towards Cedoric to check and make sure he was alright. A light comfort, but one to help keep him going nonetheless.

Perhaps it was a weakness of the men that family had meant so much. Some would say that it was a strength to keep one going, but in the heat of battle, such a thing could be the difference between life or death. Cedoric turned to nod to his brother with what little of a smile he could muster at their accomplishment.

In that moment of focus on his dear little brother, Ulfric did not note the archer aiming at him. He did not hear the sound of the arrow as it flew through the air. And at first, he did not even feel as the projectile pierced through his armour at his right breast. It was not until he noted the look on Cedoric’s face that he realized something was wrong. His focus turned down to the protruding arrow from his body.

A second arrow came flying through the air, this time swiftly driving into the head of Ulfric’s loyal horse. The beast went crashing down, sending Ulfric tumbling off to the side.

Cedoric screamed out in a rage and zeroed in on the enemy that had dared make the mistake of harming his brother. As Cedoric charged, the archer’s eyes widened in the beginnings of fear of what was about to happen. Stumbling backwards, he dropped his bow and scrambled to back away as quickly as possible to avoid the oncoming raging Rohir.

Ulfric made no real reaction, save for reaching down to break the shaft of the arrow, then do what he could to pull it from his body from behind. Blood had begun to seep through, staining his clothing underneath the armour and dripping out in it’s red colour to contrast the silver metal he wore. He ran to meet his brother in battle once more, noting the archer’s fear.

Just as he strode up beside him, Cedoric had hopped off of Deorwine to meet the archer with his blade in hand and ready to take the man out face to face, rather than from horseback. As the archer’s hands raised, he cried out in an unknown language to the brothers’ ears. It was an obvious cry for mercy, and one that Cedoric was in no mood to hear.

Just as Cedoric’s blade raised to strike the man down, Ulfric intercepted. “Wait.” His hand held Cedoric’s arm in place to stop his movement. “He wields no weapon. He is no threat anymore,” he said softly to Cedoric, eyeing the trembling foe. Cedoric looked on in shock, seething in his anger.

Ulfric moved up to grab the archer by the chest, hefting him up to his feet. “Get out of here. Meet your fate elsewhere, for you will have no fight here.” He pushed the man forward, pointing off to the distance of the rest of battle. The Southron man gave no moment’s hesitation, quickly stumbling off to the distance.

“What are you doing? He will come back! Or worse, he will harm someone else!” Cedoric protested, though made no move to defy his brother’s decision.

“You would strike down a man who put his weapon aside and yielded to you? We were taught better than this, Cedoric.” Ulfric glanced back to his fallen horse, grimacing. “We must keep moving.”

Cedoric’s jaw set as he thought over his brother’s words, then let out a sigh in defeat. He stepped back up to Deorwine’s saddle, then offered a hand to his brother. “Your wound…”

Ulfric shook his head and gave his brother a smirk. “Is just a wound I can show off to Leofwyn when we return. I am truly beginning to think you have become a woman, Cedoric. All of these sentimental feelings,” he said with a roll of his eyes, taking his brother’s hand and arriving on the back of Deorwine as well.

Deorwine gave a bit of protest at the weight, but seemed more concerned about the state of Ulfric’s now fallen steed. Her head tossed and she let out a small cry. Cedoric nodded back to his brother, then leaned a bit to whisper into Deorwine’s ear. “Now is not the time to mourn, love. We must make it home.” He gave her a rough, yet loving pat, then kicked off once more.

The brothers had begun to get to a better position, Riding closer towards the rest of their companions, when they were abruptly taken by surprise. Two horsemen of the Haradrim had seemed to target the two, clashing hard enough to knock both Cedoric and Ulfric from Deorwine. In a panic, she ran off, leaving the brothers dismounted and at a disadvantage.

Ulfric and Cedoric quickly got to their feet, standing back to back with weapons drawn and shields raised as the Haradrim began to circle them menacingly. “When they charge forward, aim for the horses; we need them dismounted,” Ulfric said under his breath, keeping his eyes set on the enemy.

As Ulfric had predicted, the two horsemen rushed forward with their steeds in a coordinated attack much like how Cedoric and Ulfric had done in the past. It was almost as if it were possible the two they faced were brothers as well. Blades were met with air for the Haradrim, and horse-flesh for the Rohirrim brothers. The foes dropped to the ground as their horses fell and bled out onto the ground before them. The men were not phased, and soon they began to circle Cedoric and Ulfric again.

This time, Ulfric had no chance to give an order. Swift fighting began, and the four men met blades with clangs and grunts. Ulfric did his best to defend against the quick slashes of the man he fought, though the wound he felt seemed to tug at the strength he had in his right arm. Cedoric, on the other hand, looked to be doing quite well. In fact, it was almost as if things were going too well.

Ulfric furrowed his brows at his realization, and before he had a chance to warn his little brother, a blade sliced clean across Cedoric’s thigh, then moved to slice at his arm. Cedoric seemed surprised, stumbling back, though showing no signs of dropping. Despite the blood that began to pour from his wounds, he grit his teeth and yelled towards his foe in a challenge.

Unlike his younger brother, Ulfric had always been able to control himself. This included when he thought those he cared for the most were in danger. This was a man who used that control to his advantage, and soon he found himself able to push his own foe away enough to move to the aid of his brother.

Cedoric did not seem afraid of the blows he had received, nor did he show signs of any loss of courage. He was fighting for people’s freedom, for his friends that had already passed, and for the chance that his brother would be able to go home and start a family. All of this he thought of while coming up against this foe.

Ulfric had been no different. So too did he think of freedom, the fallen, and of family. But the idea that he would have to live in a life where he could not fight for it beside his brother, was not an idea he was keen on. He raised his blade to fight Cedoric’s foe as well, using hard, unwielding blows.

Just as they had looked to best the man, another sound of an arrow flew through the air in close proximity, until a thud was heard. Cedoric looked in horror as another arrow had pierced his brother, this time in the back of the man’s knee.

Ulfric swiftly dropped, but kept his sword and shield raised as much as he could to continue to fight for his brother. “Go!” He called out to Cedoric, knowing full well that he would now be the focus of the enemy’s attacks; he was wounded prey. Cedoric pressed hard into his attacks on the man before him to try to gain his focus, but was soon knocked to the side by the Southron Ulfric had fought before.

Switching tactics to defense, Ulfric did what he could to fend off the man’s attacks, slashing back when he could. In the small moments he could, he scanned the battlefield around them and noted the failing offence of the Rohirrim. They were beginning to be surrounded. He called back to his brother once more in the most commanding voice he could muster.

“GO!”

Despite the fight he had put on, it was no use. Cedoric’s eyes moved up just in time to see the sword of the man they had both been fighting plunge into Ulfric’s stomach.

The scream of anger that came from Cedoric was unlike any he had released before. Even the men he and Ulfric had been fighting were taken aback, their moment of pause being their undoing. Swiftly, Cedoric rose back to his feet and kicked his boot into the stomach of the Southron whom had knocked him over. As the man went sprawling backwards, Cedoric lept forward and drove his longsword into his neck, twisting the blade back and forth.

Without a moment’s pause, he then strode up and buried his fist into the face of one whom had stabbed Ulfric. Between Cedoric’s sheer strength coupled with taking him by surprise, the man dropped to the ground, gripping at his nose. Cedoric’s hardened grip came to the man’s hair, and with a fluid motion, he lifted the Southron up, tilted his head back, and sliced the neck clean through.

The blind rage he experienced was like a tune into battle he had never felt before. His eyes swept across the bloodied battlefield and soon landed upon a spear that had been left behind in the body of a fallen orc. After taking it up, he targeted the archer, noting that it was the same one they had let go before. The rage was intensified ten-fold, and he hurled the spear through the air.

Though he tried to turn to run, the archer was immediately stopped by the spear meeting the back of his own knee. He cried out in agony, then tried to crawl away in a futile attempt at fleeing. Cedoric was right behind him, and he flipped the archer over, using his fist as his weapon of choice now. Blow after blow, Cedoric screamed at his catch, the crimson flow of life’s essence spattering across his face and enveloping his fist.

What was left of the archer’s skull was but a shredded pulp of meat.

Cedoric stood and quickly made his way back to his brother. Ulfric was trying his best to stand, but it was no use, and the blood that escaped his lips as he coughed was a tell-tale sign of dire times. Cedoric tore off the heavy armour chest plate he wore, exposing his tunic. Tearing at the fabric, he did what he could to try to come up with a make-shift bandage of sorts. “Just hold on. We will get out of here soon.” He said softly, his hands trembling in his worry.

“Cedoric. Go.” Ulfric croaked out, finally conceding to the heavy weight he was feeling. He slipped onto his back, coughing blood out to the side.

“No, just hold on. I just need to put pressure on this,” Cedoric replied quickly. He pressed to the wound with the cloth, looking up at Ulfric.

“You need to get out of here, Cedoric. Or is Father going to have to hear that you disobeyed an order?” His colour was slowly draining at the loss of blood, but he wore a small smile regardless.

“Orders be damned. I will find a way to get you moved.” Ceodric glanced around at the surroundings, giving a sharp whistle for Deorwine. She was no where in sight, but a Southron seemed to pick up on the sound and his attention was drawn. “Damn it all!”

The Southron approached quicker than Cedoric had anticipated, his blade giving a clean slice across the Rohir’s breast. Cedoric jumped back, then raised his blade to counter the attack.

In what was the final effort of Ulfric to protect his brother, he stood and rushed forward with all of his weight to drive his blade into the Southron’s chest. His body then failed him, and he collapsed onto the ground, gasping out for breath.

Cedoric limped over, lowering his weapon and knelt by his brother, trying once more to press the torn tunic to the wound. “Just a little longer, okay? Just…just hold on.”

Ulfric grasped his hand to Cedoric’s forearm tightly, looking him in the eyes. “I told you to go,” he demanded.

“And I gave you a promise. I will not leave your side, Ulfric,” Cedoric finally cried out, tears slowly stirring in his sapphire hues.

“If you do not go now, who will speak to Father about what happened? Do not let him hear of both sons dying. It would crush him.” After another cough, Ulfric did his best to look at their surroundings. “They will spot you soon. Cedoric, you must leave,” he pleaded.

Cedoric bit back his anger, lowering his head. “Do not do this. Do not do this to me, Ulfric. If I leave you now-”

“Then you will survive and carry on. Do you hear me?” Ulfric looked to be fading fast, his skin now grey in colour.

As Cedoric went to protest further, cries began to sound throughout the area.

“The Corsairs are upon us!”

Cedoric’s heart sunk at the words. Sure enough, as he looked up towards the sea, the dreaded black sails loomed, threatening the hearts of men and strengthening Sauron’s army.

“Do you think he would be proud,” Ulfric said softly, now seeming to be in a daze of some sort. His hand had been grasping something, which Cedoric soon realized as he glanced back down was the necklace his brother had found not long ago.

Choking up, Ceodric seemed to struggle to speak. After a moment of composing himself, he grasped his brother’s hand that held the necklace and gave it a tight squeeze. “I know he would.”

A smile crossed Ulfric’s face, and slowly, his eyes drifted up to peer into the rain-clouds above. Within moments, those eyes which had matched his father’s faded into a blank stare, and one final sputtered breath was taken.

The only thing that had snapped Cedoric out of the shock he was in, was a rough tugging at the shoulder of his tunic. He glanced up, his face meeting with Deorwine’s. She had been unharmed, but was certainly spooked. In what was likely a muster of courage for the steed, she had come back to Cedoric in his time of need, knowing full well that he needed to leave, lest he be slain as well.

Cedoric’s hand clenched his brother’s, tears mixing with rain that fell from those darkened skies. Before parting from his brother, he took the necklace and slipped it on with care, then took up his chestplate. His mind was foggy, and things were not quite clicking. However, he soon found himself back upon Deorwine and on his way back to his companions in battle. He passed one final look over his shoulder to his fallen brother, and anger sparked within him yet again.

“Out of doubt, out of dark to the day’s rising
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope’s end I rode and to heart’s breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!”

Eomer’s words struck to the depths of Cedoric’s emotions, and despite his own wounds, he replaced his armour, looking more ready for battle than he had ever been in his life.

The winds began to change, rain ceasing, and soon the light of the sun shone upon the ships with an offer of hope. As the banner was dropped to reveal the White Tree of Gondor with Seven Stars, cheers erupted from Rohirrim. It was a turn of tides that was needed, and soon hope was renewed among the host of Rohan.

Cedoric gave no cries of joy, instead focusing his attention on which enemy he would fell next. The armies fought once more, and as the day wore on, Cedoric fought with the strength of two men, for he fought for his brother. No mercy was shown, and his blade was wet with the blood of any enemy that crossed his path. Not until the last enemy was felled did Cedoric rest.

When that rest finally came, Cedoric laid upon his bedroll in his tent alone, his sorrows consuming him with tears pouring down his face. The words were thick within his mind, giving him no quarter just as he had given none to his foes.

Ulfric, son of Godric, was dead.