The Tarnished in LOTR with Elden Ring

The Orc Captain was speechless. The fury that had driven him moments ago had curdled into pure, unadulterated terror at the sight of Tarnes and Nepheli Loux.

Surrounded by a suffocating tide of Orcs, Tarnes chose not to summon Mohgwyn's Sacred Spear—its powerful attack required a moment to gather—and instead gripped his unadorned greatsword. The Orc Captain's memory flashed back to the terrified warnings of the few survivors who had escaped Tarnes before. They had spoken of a human wizard in heavy armor, wielding a sword so massive it defied belief. He had dismissed them as cowards. Now, he saw the truth.

Compared to the weapon Tarnes wielded—a monstrous slab of iron that carved a gory path through the horde with every swing—the greatswords of the human knights he'd faced before seemed like children's toys, as flimsy as toothpicks. The Orc Captain stared in horror, realizing with a sickening certainty that the human showed no signs of fatigue, swinging the colossal blade as if it weighed nothing.

Just as the captain's mind reeled from the sight of Tarnes, a crackle of thunder ripped through the air from the other side of the battlefield, punctuated by the dying screams of his warriors. The sound was growing closer. The Warg beneath him let out an uneasy snarl, and the captain's head whipped around to see a humanoid storm of golden lightning tearing through his ranks.

Any Orc or Warg caught in its path was instantly shredded, their bodies torn apart as black blood sprayed in every direction.

"Move, you idiots! Get out of my way!" the Orc Captain shrieked, his voice cracking. He saw Nepheli Loux closing the distance, a golden hurricane of death, and knew with chilling certainty that she was coming for his head. He desperately slashed at the Orcs packed around him, but it was useless. They were too tightly crammed together.

He could only watch as the Warg beneath him, sensing its own doom, bucked and threw him to the ground, abandoning him to his fate.

"No—!"

His cry was cut short as Nepheli descended upon him. In the first second, a battle axe crackling with golden lightning severed his head from his shoulders. A heartbeat later, the second axe carved a brutal line across his chest. His body crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag.

Nepheli seized the captain's head by its sparse, greasy hair and held it aloft. Her crimson eyes swept over the surrounding Orcs, a silent, deadly promise.

That was all it took.

Seeing their leader so effortlessly slain, the Orcs' courage shattered. They dropped their weapons, their formation dissolving into a panicked mob as they scrambled to flee. Only the Wargs, their bloodlust still raging, continued to fight the Royal Army soldiers, but their resistance was disorganized and futile against the soldiers' disciplined coordination.

Adding to the chaos was the blood-crazed Knight Captain. He was a whirlwind of slaughter, drawn to the thickest fighting. Wherever the resistance was fiercest, he would appear, his roars more bestial than any Warg's, his greatsword a blur of crimson death. The fleeing Orcs glanced back, their terror compounding as they wondered which was the greater monster: the Wargs they fought alongside, or this blood-crazed knight who hunted them. They trampled their own wounded, desperate to escape.

Amid the rout, the other Knight Captain, Godrick, led his four soldiers to rendezvous with Nepheli. His long spear was slick with Orc blood and viscera.

"Lady Nepheli," he said, bowing respectfully before his eyes fell on the head she held. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. He had been fighting his way toward the Orc Captain, hoping to claim the kill himself. Still, he thought, glancing at the fallen knight who was still rampaging through the fleeing horde, at least that madman didn't get the credit.

The four soldiers with him formed a protective circle, raising their crossbows to pick off any Orcs that stumbled too close in their flight.

Nepheli, breathing heavily from the exertion of her storm arts, nodded to Godrick. "The captain is dead, and their line is broken. Now is the time to press the advantage. But do not chase them too far. Are any of your men injured? Leave the wounded and pursue the rest within the outpost."

"Yes, Lady Nepheli!" Godrick replied. He turned to one of his men, who was clutching a wounded leg. "You. You're injured. Stay here and await a healer."

The soldier nodded reluctantly. His thigh had been gashed by a Warg playing dead, but the wound wasn't deep thanks to his armor.

"You," Godrick ordered another soldier, "get him to the nearest watchtower, then rejoin the pursuit."

"I can walk myself," the injured soldier protested as his comrade helped him away.

"If we're any slower, the Orcs will get away," his comrade shot back. "I still want to make a good impression on His Majesty, Tarnes!"

A faint smile touched Nepheli's lips as she overheard them. She understood their desire to prove themselves in this new land. She then held the Orc Captain's head out to Godrick.

"I know you were fighting for this," she said, her tone direct. "I have no need of it. Keep it."

Godrick took the grisly trophy on the tip of his spear, a look of disbelief on his face. He watched her agile form disappear back into the fray, her twin axes already finding new targets. He sighed, a touch of envy in his eyes, wondering when he, too, would be able to prove his worth by his actions alone, without the need for trophies.

Near the relay station, the Orc Vice-Captain watched the chaos from the shadows of a stone wall, a dozen of his loyal followers huddled behind him.

"That fool is finally dead," he sneered, his voice a gravelly rasp. "He actually thought a wizard's fortress would be an easy prize."

A scrawny, shifty-eyed Orc scurried forward. "Captain, shouldn't we run?"

The Vice-Captain—now Captain—cuffed the smaller Orc on his bald head. "Fool! If we run now, what do we tell the master? That a human wizard drove us off like dogs?" He licked his fangs, his eyes gleaming with a nasty cunning as he patted the stone wall. "I saw a human female here earlier. She must be one who couldn't make it to the fortress in time. While the others are busy with the wizard, we'll slaughter everyone in this station and bring the woman's head back as tribute."

He roared at his followers. "Now, go!"

Reinvigorated by the promise of an easy kill, the Orcs swarmed into the relay station. They found it eerily empty.

"They must be hiding!" the Captain snarled. "Find the cellar entrance, you idiots!"

Soon, one of the Orcs discovered a dark passage leading underground, a black maw that seemed to swallow the light. "Boss, I found it! I hear something down there!" the Orc cried out, eager for praise.

The Captain grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and unceremoniously kicked him into the hole. "You found it, you go first! The rest of you, get in there!"

The Orc tumbled down, his cries followed by a sickening crunch. The others hesitated, but driven by the Captain's threats, they began to descend into the darkness. Suddenly, a terrified shriek echoed from below, followed by the wet sound of flesh and bone being pulverized.

The Orc at the head of the line froze, the scent of fresh blood thick in the air. He didn't dare move, but the press of bodies from behind forced him forward.

Thwump!

Before he could even scream, a massive, spiked metal flail swung out of the gloom and smashed into him, his body bursting like a wineskin.

From the darkness, a hulking shape emerged with a low, guttural panting. It was a monster the size of a Troll, its head encased in a massive, spherical golden helmet. The Pumpkin Head Soldier.

An Orc swung its sword, which glanced off the helmet with a useless clink. The blow only served to enrage the creature. With a muffled roar from within the helm, the Pumpkin Head Soldier lowered its head and charged, its flail swinging. The narrow passage became a blender of bone and viscera. As the first Pumpkin Head Soldier pushed the mangled Orcs out of the tunnel, a second one emerged from the darkness behind it, drawn by the sounds of battle.

The new Orc Captain swallowed hard, all thoughts of slaughter forgotten. How had the wizard tamed two Trolls? He began to back away, planning to run.

But just as he turned, a new sound reached him—a fierce, booming war cry from behind.

"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" (Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!)

Dwalin let out a roar and charged the retreating Orcs. At the same time, Kili drew his bow, aimed, and let an arrow fly.

Thwip!

The Orc Captain's eyes went wide. He clawed at the arrow that had buried itself perfectly in his throat before collapsing, dead.

Deep in the cellar below, Sellen looked up from the ancient scroll she was reading. She heard the distant clamor, shook her head with a flicker of annoyance, and returned her focus to her studies, utterly unconcerned with the world outside.

(End of Chapter)

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