Thorin Oakenshield Shield Novels & Stories

Hearing it spoken in the open air above the Atlantic gave it a different quality. Permanent was the word she kept arriving at. Not ending. Permanent. The crown of the Vael bloodline was a physical object smaller than she'd expected, old metal worn smooth by time, carrying nothing theatrical. Seren placed it on Caspian's head with the precise care of someone who had done this for three hundred years and understood that the object was less significant than the moment. He became, in that moment, what he had been becoming for a very long time. She watched it happen.

Because neither of us knew if he was wrong. A woman near the back of the crowd suddenly screamed. Everyone turned sharply. A Hollow stood directly behind her. But instead of attacking. it held out a small silver crown in both hands. My blood went cold instantly. The crown looked ancient, twisted from dark metal and lined with glowing cracks identical to the ones spreading beneath my feet. The Hollow approached slowly before kneeling again. “It belongs to you,” it whispered. The villagers recoiled in terror. Kael looked genuinely alarmed now. “Don’t touch it,” he said immediately.

Minos's blade bounced off Nymgos's arm and the young noble shifted his weight to swing his shield arm up, in an attempt to hit the big drow's head. Nymgos, despite his size, is quick enough to dodge Minos' shield, and he exploited the young noble's open guard to counterattack. Minos didn't see the right hook, only that he felt his jaw shake from the mean punch of the big drow. The young noble staggered back, tasting the blood in his mouth.

There was also a shield, with a magnificent and ferocious griffin embossed on the face of the shield. The only other things in the trunk were the full chainmail armour, an elaborate waist belt, a leather pouch, a set of tubular bells and cloak with the coat of arms of the Zumerongs which was a magnificent and ferocious griffin, standing tall and proud, embroidered with threads of gold, silver and copper; the image was so life like and imposing that just a glance at the magnificent image commanded respect.

Belikov's back went rigid when he noticed what I had my sights on, only piquing my interest more. I pulled back the red, tattered cloth that was covering it and couldn't hold back my astonished gasp even if I tried. If the signature scaled armor wasn't enough on its own the blazing phoenix emblem on the front of the ornate shield was a dead giveaway. "You're...you're a," I stuttered, unable to believe my own eyes as I reached down to touch the glistening shield. My fingers lightly grazed across the sleek metal, the cool contact freezing my scattering thoughts into place. "These belong to Varangian Guard."

This shield, woven with strands of ancient magic, would render them impervious to missiles and weapons forged from lead, providing an invaluable advantage on the battlefield. The soldiers marveled as the shield materialized, its translucent form radiating a faint luminescence. Selene's words echoed in their minds, reminding them to trust in the shield's power while remaining vigilant and skillful in their maneuvers. They were now protected by an enchantment that would turn aside arrows, deflect blades, and repel any harm that would befall them.

How little he cares about me, Porcius thought quickly as the Greyman set out to loping after Tavia, who streaked fast toward the grim woods they had come from. He rose and took a few steps, his head clearing. In the tall grasses his sandal hit something. Not wanting to lose the two runners, he hurriedly reached down and pulled the object up. It was a round shield, not Celtic but similar to their circular design. He thrust his left forearm through the bucklers on the back of the shield, figuring it belonged to the dead Pict on the poles behind him. The design reminded him of old Greek or Spartan shields he’d seen as a child.

Elena's POV The rain in Red Hook wasn’t a cleansing thing; it was a rhythmic, heavy pounding that turned the sawdust on the floor of the woodshop into a thick, smelling paste. I stood in the side entrance, my silk coat drenched, my breath hitching as I saw the flickering light of a work lamp coming from the back office. My heart hammered against the "Sovereign Shield" signet ring I now wore. I knew why Silas was here. He wasn't a man who surrendered. If he couldn't have the Tower through the front door, he would find the cellar and blow the foundations.

Nilah's Pov The Heart Of Aethelgard is a priceless, legendary artifact, a pendant made of a single, uncut "Star-Drop" diamond, encased in a delicate casing of silver. It was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was a historical relic rumored to have been lost during the Great Purge centuries ago. But more importantly for me, the Heart of Aethelgard was known in occult circles as the "Sovereign’s Shield." It was said to vibrate in the presence of toxins, protecting the wearer from any poison, hex, or dark influence.

Aurora clenched her hands in her lap. The Elder raised his chin. “And the first of them could be none other.” Pause. Our best warrior. “The heir to steel. The champion of Tron. Thales.” The hall exploded. Shouts. Whistles. Laughter. Women shouting names. Others blowing kisses into the air. A group of young men shouted obscene offers. One of them raised her glass and yelled: “Just one night, Thales! I'll give it back!” Thales closed his eyes for a second. Then he opened them and stood up calmly. Arms firm. Chest exposed under his open cloak. The symbol of Tron gleaming on his metal necklace.