(Archive) Gondor takes Caldur -- Checkmate!

The Scene

The inner keep of the Citadel of Caldur. Outside, the battle between the Gondorian host and the army of Umbar rages. Here, cut off from the Gondorian army by the gates of the Keep which are locked by the Umbarians as soon as he enters, Elphir fights alone against his old foe, Adrazor. Adrazor\'s foster-father and uncle, Garad, a long-time arch-enemy of Prince Imrahil, holds the doors to the inner keep closed against the Gondorians outside with 50 of his hand-picked warriors.

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Keep

Stern and wide and made of stone cut from black volcanic rock is the Keep of Caldur, center of the fortress and home to its masters. Above you is the second floor, where the Steward and his wife reside, as well as their family and the oldest and most trusted Retainers.

The blue banners of Caldur are interespersed here with the brown colors of the House Hassad. The walls are thick and cold, and the breeze is ever damp.

Through the walls it is hard to hear anything, though the clack of boots against the floors above can often be heard. Torches sputter every few feet, for the Keep is dark even in the daytime. The air is cold about you.

Contents:

Elphir

Garad

Adrazor

Army of the Flame Tower

Obvious exits:

Stairs Up leads to The Keep, Second Floor.

Great Door leads to Central Hall of Caldur.

Oaken Doorway leads to Captains Office.

Elphir

To the side Elphir steps yet again, and Adrazor\'s blade cuts air only. And yet again, Elphir follows Adrazor, his burning hatred getting the better of his judgment. Straight into the den of serpents the Belfalan prince leaps, sword before him.

Adrazor

And another two, four, six steps skipped, the feet of Sauron\'s Sword are light and nimble can anything save rapidly encroaching Fate pierce Adrazor\'s last stand? For no mistake, each blow of Gondor\'s prince is met, yet every strike is turned away with growing desperation. More and again comes the clang, the ringing of steel on steel --

-- And as the two climb higher, the stairs toward the heavens, the Duel grows nearer its climax!

Elphir

Ever on the lower ground, Elphir bounds up the stairs after his nemesis. But alas, height is not his only foe! For this staircase wraps around the pillar clockwise, and Elphir\'s attacks can only be made across the body, or in a direct stab. And these are the attacks he resorts to - slices at knees, stabs at legs, as the neck and head are not easily reachable. \"It does not have to end this way for you!\" shouts Elphir as he leaps after his foe.

Imrahil

Wild and high, horns sound in the distance, their cry rising above the clamour of battle, drifting, lingering, ere fading away. And even as they die away, another horn sounds -- nearer this time, and the very ground seems to shake now, trembling and shuddering under the weight of pounding hooves.

A great cry rises then, echoing among the ancient stones of the Keep, \"AMROTH!\" -- and the stout doors burst asunder, throwing back those who seek to hold it against the foe. Thither rides a mighty figure -- a man from the tales of ancient days, a golden helm upon his head, a glittering blade in his hand. The Prince of Dol Amroth has come with his High Guard, and woe to any who stand in his path!

Adrazor

\"No,\" cedes Adrazor even as he cedes one stair, hopping back and upward as his blade falls swift and downward. A wicked smile curves his lips, the handsome Lord of Umbar laughs and taunts: \"It will end with your death, or without it, but either way I think I\'ll meet my maker. Pray, the former, then!\"

Garad

But there are those who stand in his path...

Full fifty men, all that remains of the stout Hassadite Retainers. But lo, the carrion that lies before them! Yet before the cavalry, they must fall back. The keep\'s great door is not its last defense, not while these men remain. Powerful are they, so that even horsemen and strong armor do not guard against their swords and terrible blows. Many a fair knight, struck dead in the finest breath of youth, attests to this: many and more, who lie in the hall beyond.

But for now, they fall back, one by one, into the stair. They run behind the duelling pair, sniping at the heels. Their lord, Garad, remains to the last. With only two men to stand before him, he at last takes to the stair.

Elphir

Elphir stumbles backwards as Adrazor\'s attack bashes down at his head, and he raises his shield only just in time, though at least now he only has to defend his upper body.... against Adrazor anyway. But the enemy is quick on his heels, and Elphir looks back to kick one right in the chest, and off the stairs. \"All Men meet their Doom, Adrazor.\" he stabs up again, shield held at a different angle now. \"The only question is \'how\'.\"

Adrazor

And now, backed unto the very portal at last fights the Black Numenorean: Adrazor the Sword of Sauron, up and still further forced is he, by the madcap press of Elphir

Elphir

Elphir\'s eyes lock with Adrazor\'s, and for a moment, the dark and light are gone. There, where Good and Evil had once faced each other, now only stand two men, more alike than different, who may have been friends had the Fates spun their threads more kindly. \"Surrender, Adrazor. You are beaten.\" he says quietly, preparing for the onslaught nonetheless. \"And as for your wife, know this. As long as I live, she shall not fall to Gondorian blades.\"

Imrahil

Swift and forceful as as a river in spate, the Knights of Amroth sweep forth -- to dash against the ranks of Hassadites, standing firm and steady as rocks. Many are the empty saddles now in this company, and they falter, and faltering, come to a halt. But for no longer than a brief moment, for the Prince\'s voice rises in a great cry, rallying them, and swiftly they dismount. Shields held ready, naked blades chill and fierce, they gather around the Son of Adrahil even as he makes his way to the stairs, his gaze ever upon the two who strive thither with deadly blows given and turned aside.

Garad

One of the two great warriors falls, and with him any hope of keeping the knights from the stair the last of the Hassadites rushes upon it, behind his Lord and comerades. But now the going will be grim indeed: For the knights must press up one by one, and at the top of the stair will be many swords to meet them.

Adrazor

There is a flicker of hesitancy, a pause--and then into the shadows from which the bards in later ages might say he was sprung, Adrazor vaults! Through a wide and gaping portal into the rooms beyond, and the upper reaches of the Citadel....

Imrahil

Swift and sure, foremost among the Men of Gondor comes the Prince, his sword stained crimson -- and before him are the warriors of Harad who yet will not flee, seeking death to keep those within from its clutches. One among them falls then, struck down by Imrahil -- and upon Garad the Prince\'s gaze comes to rest, and he draws back a pace. Thither he stands, intent upon the Man of Harad for a brief moment, and gravely then, he raises his blade in silent salute.

Garad

The Hassadite Lord flashes his sword in return: but like his men, he chooses his battleground at the top of the stair. The Prince\'s halt gives time for him to withdraw in order. What will now await in the innermost citadel, is to be seen only by the bravest eyes. Will you follow a snake into his hole?

The Keep, Second Floor

Cold, thick stone holds court here. The Keep is but one great room on the second floor, the roof held up by mighty beams of Caldur hardwood. Banners and tapestries hang on the walls, keeping some of the warmth in the chamber from being leeched away by the rocks. A great firepit stands in the center of the room beds line the walls. The firepit is ringed by a mighty table of stout Caldur hardwood... the banquet table of the House Hassad. At the far end of the room, a single great bed stands where the Master of the Keep and his Lady rest.

Through thin slit windows set high in the stone streams the light of day, barely dispelling the fortress\' gloom. The air is cool and damp.

Contents:

Garad

Elphir

Adrazor

Obvious exits:

Stairs Down

Adrazor

And even as the warriors of both sides rush the chambers, and the elder Lord and elder Prince comes crashing with their duel--another fight, and louder spills across the breadth of broad-beamed floor. Elphir swipes high--and parried, riposte--low, Adrazor\'s sword is turned. Grunt and growl have replaced their banter as the Dunadan Lords--Silver and Black--have at one another in frenzied final mortal epic melee.

Garad

At the top of the stairs, the Hassadite Retainers spread out to form a grim crescent. Their Lord, Garad, comes forth last, his final guardian having fallen prey to the crush on the stair. Almost breathless, the silver lion, he turns and makes ready to receive this last charge from the fell Prince of Dol Amroth.

Elphir

\"For the third and final time,\" Elphir grunts, now reverting almost strictly to defensive swings of his sword as he , \"I offer you clemency. Look around you!\" Another quick parry. \"Behold Numenor the fallen, as brother strikes brother! Be true to yourself, and true to our ancestors from ages past! One more time I say unto you: drop your sword against me, and raise it -with- me! Fight, as our forefathers did, against the Darkness that is now your Master. You have your choice,\" Elphir\'s sword dances in his hand, and with sword and shield he defends his assailant. \"Fight for the West... or die for the East.\"

Imrahil

The ringing of metal upon metal, the glimmering of sparks struck from the clashing of blades -- things not seen in this Keep for long years have come now in full measure. Forth they come, clad in glittering mail and high helms, to fall upon the doughty Men of the South, the Knights of Amroth. And in their midst, the Prince of Dol Amroth faces the Hassadite Lord and alone even among the struggling warriors they seem.

Adrazor

Adrazor the Young, Adrazor the Bold, Adrazor the Black--all these things he has been called, and others, and the words of Elphir slow his strokes of death... til blade so black like malachite does halt in horrid stillness, and his eyes go wide like saucers. Grey eyes, they see through the depths of time...

...as the Dunedain do, and in that instant--pausing, hesitant, the words of Elphir at last finding some purchase, he sees Garad. His uncle, so like a father--and his lips part in a wordless cry....

Garad

Knights fall almost as soon as they rise from the stairwell, but not so the Prince. By luck or special favor of Fate, he stands amidst the whirling chaos of the last stand, untouched.

And so he meets Garad\'s sword.

The quick blade rushes in lively, brought forth by a hand as firm as iron, a wrist as firm as steel. And yet, even from the beginning, this one is worn down. The silver lion, no longer young, begins to fall back.

Adrazor

As if frozen in time, Lord Adrazor is caught in place, his feet like so much granite set down roots in heedless stone. Caught, his gaze like helpless victims torn from princely foe to the sight of his silver-haired uncle: Jabar\'s brother, his surrogate father, and tan face goes ashen.

It is as if he sees the end, and the seconds pass like hours, not fast enough, not ever for his eyes....

Elphir

Elphir in turn lowers his own sword, and takes a step back from Adrazor, their duel over. The royal heir of Dol Amroth watches Adrazor silently, and casts a look over to his father, who fights the man who is father - or nearly - to Adrazor. The irony, the sadness, the full horror of Melkor\'s work - as household faces household all of this falls upon Elphir like the roof of the castle caving in upon him, and he too is helpless but to watch and say nothing.

And if there were an orchestra, the strings would rise and fall in rapt succession, the beating drums would thunder, and the whistle of the woodwinds set in motion all the rapid measures of Fate unstoppable....

Imrahil

Across the expanse of the landing running now with blood, they strive, the two Lords -- blades meeting, moving apart, and meeting yet again, only to be turned aside. Man of the North against Man of the South, and the Prince\'s visage is still and grave, his gaze intent upon his foe. Breath hissing between his teeth, with heaving chest and bloodied arm he seeks to bring Garad to bay, his blade flickering in the light, akin to a burning brand in his hands.

Garad

Back, back, ever back. Parry, riposte: the steel sings with the unseen dawn. Garad\'s feet only fail him his arms and eyes are ever just, and no steel touches him, nor even draws nigh. About him, the last of the Retainers falls, defeated: but even of the Knights, there are only perhaps a dozen left of all who came.

Back still does Garad fight, parry and twist: Until suddenly, unexpectedly, he is against his own bed and may fall back no more. The shock of his abrupt halt throws off his rythym, and he misses a stroke. Imrahil\'s blade pierces his heart, and he falls onto the shadowed bed.

Now, though he lies still, sickly breathing can be heard. Something about it summons the ear.

Adrazor

\"NOOOOOOOOOO!\"

The heedless cry is ripped from Adrazor\'s throat like life itself were stolen from the man, and in rage and fury inhuman he hurls his blade like lightning at his target: Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth--killer of Garad ben-Hassad al-Sayf.

Like the slow coming of storms does the scene seem to unfold, but in truth does it take only moments.

End over end, blade over hilt, the wicked steel of Harad whirls for Imrahil...

Elphir

Elphir turns and leaps at the flying blade as it, as if in slow motion, flips toward his father. Too far away to intercept the blade, he brings his own down at it, his eyes wide with surprise and fear for his father\'s life... down, down, down...

CLANG!

His sword ricochets off the stone of the ground. He missed.

Imrahil

A spurt of blood, a flash of light, and a great cry -- and even as the Lord of the Hassadites falls back, his body rent, his breath failing, the curved blade of Adrazor, swift as a searing streak of lightning, strikes the Prince.

Golden and fell, a sight terrible and beautiful to behold, the Dragon-Helm of Dor-Lomin flies from him, to lie upon the ground. And with a shoulder stricken with grievous wound, blood runs forth, and Umbardacil drops unheeded to the ground. A sharp breath, a faint cry, and Imrahil stands no longer, but stumbles forward to fall on the bed upon his knees, his head bent, raven hair veiling his visage from sight.

Garad

But Imrahil is not alone within the bed\'s crimsoned confines.

A last figure is curled there, breathing shallow and slow. The blood of her husband stains her bedclothes. Once-beautiful eyes, yellowed by sickness, look with hate upon the prince who slew him.

Even as the injured prince begins to right himself, his armor has cracked her ribs as he fell. Even as her eyes meet his in a long and terrible glance, blood anew forms on her lips. She has time for one last word. It is a curse, whispered to the Lord:

\"Murderer.\"

Adrazor

And in the confusion--his uncle slain, his adversary Elphir distracted for his own father\'s safety--Adrazor lunges for... the stone wall? A gloved hand snakes out, catching a sconce, twisting it: a grinding noise, and a gaping darkness revealed. So this is where the women fled.

And into it, into the comforting darkness, into the velvet clutch of Escape flees Adrazor the Sword of Sauron. His home is fallen, his fathers lost, his soldiers taken and only revenge and his love, Gaelle, left to live for... he is gone.

Without any words, the wall grinds shut behind him...

And the day is done. The House Hassad has fallen.

e is gone.

Without any words, the wall grinds shut behind him...

And the day is done. The House Hassad has fallen.