Novel & Cerita Thranduil Battle Of The Five Armies

Tarathiel and his father, King Almon, brought their entire elvish troupe here to fight against me. Fear slides through me like ice in my blood. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to be one rider against a dragon. One rider who is deserving, IF he’s deserving of claiming a dragon. It’s not supposed to be an entire elvish troupe fighting against the dragon so one of them can claim me.

He lunged from the air straight at Kaelan, and the two titans slammed into the center of the camp, rolling together as they began a savage fight. "Othniel, the Highland Tribe is asking for death!" Kaelan bellowed amid the rising flames. Othniel snarled back, "Kaelan, the ones who should die are you bunch of filth. Tonight, this ends between us." The assault of 5000 Highland warriors was like a hurricane. Everything in their path was swept away. The werewolves had already been worn down by continuous battles. They were helpless against the Cathedral's army and terrified of Arya. Hence, their morale had long been wavering.

I couldn't let anyone hurt you, sir. The battle from two days ago between Ragnar Marshall and the Maridonna's kingdom had been brutal but it had caught Maridonna off guard, they didn't expect that Ragnar Marshall's men will possess such an high level of skill. Five of the fifteen princes died on the battle field, but Orm, Ulfred, Guthred and the remaining seven brothers were alive eventhough some sustained very severe injuries.

The confusion will stall this fight. “Attention all warriors of Pale Moon pack, There are traitors among us. Find them!” I mind link all the warriors. That should do the trick. Beta Harth’s POV Thorin and I are sitting in the planning room working out a battle plan. A messenger bursts through the tent flap. “Alpha, Beta. Pale Moon’s warriors are getting into attack positions.” He says. “What? Ready the men!” Thorin commands. The boy runs off to give word. I rush out of my tent.

Gandalf shouted, unleashing even greater power. Amidst the chaos, Xavier, who had previously fallen in his duel against Gandalf, struggled to his feet. Despite his injuries and exhaustion, a fiery determination blazed in his eyes. He knew he couldn't let Gandalf reach the castle. With a burst of renewed strength, he joined the fray once more, rallying his fellow werewolves to push back against the army of artificial humans.

As soon as they reached the area of darkness, the army divided into four groups. The first group belonged to Eugene, who headed north, and the second group was led by the Fairy Queen, who headed south. The third division was led by Galadriel, who attacked from the west, and the central army led by Lucian attacked from the east. In the war that Eugene was leading, he was able to break through the northern gate and sneak into the castle. The war that was raging in the north made most eyes focus on him. Therefore, the battle in the beginning was very difficult for him, but despite that, he and the soldiers who were with him were fighting with all his strength, because they knew very well that i

The soldier fell backwards and disappeared into the darkness of the killing field, and the dwarves followed, swarming down the ladder. Aurien dove again, breathing fire onto the second, interior wall, clearing it of the archers that had regrouped there and took aim at the dwarves. I saw the first force of my army at the gates of Ven Elan, preparing to surge across the bridge and into the raised gates. I saw the portcullis begin to rise, falter as the dwarves encountered resistance within the walls, and then begin again. My army roared, a wave of sound, as they ran across the bridge, and through the gates of Pres Helef.

My eyes stayed fixed on my father, still battling ahead. "No," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Not him. Not now." I burst into the broken courtyard, breathless. My father, Thorin, the King, was fighting alone against many enemies. He saw me, and his eyes widened… not in relief, but in terror. "Lyra!" he shouted as he parried an axe stroke, sparks flying from the blow. "To the tunnels! Now!" "I'm not leaving you!" I shouted, stepping forward with my sword gripped.

But even amidst the chaos and carnage, we never wavered in our resolve. As dusk turned to dawn, the battle reached its climax. The Dark Lord himself charged at King Edward, his sword held high in one hand, a sinister grin etched onto his face. King Edward stood his ground, his shield raised to protect himself from the onslaught. With a mighty cry, he plunged his sword into the Dark Lord's chest, the steel glittering with a fierce determination.