The Stand at Dun Ailinne

a little something i decided to write a few days ago, part II won't be done for a few more days so be patient

The winter wind cried loud, cutting down the silence that held dominion a few short moments ago. Cold and shrill the wind threw dust into the sky and made the trees cry out as if to say 'no more', the sun was retreating behind the green hills abandoning the sky letting the moon take her place high above as twilight turned to night. The green of the hills and grass held no comfort; they had now become a shell of their former selves as the echo of the sunlight no longer reflected within them, instead standing like grey mounds under the moon light sending haunting messages to any passer by that dared to walk the night. This land was Ireland, to be more exact the province of Laigin, two miles south of Dun Ailinne. It had been many years since the king Aedh the Great had risen to unite all the war chiefs under one banner and lead them against a common foe; the pagan Vikings. His armies stamped out all Nordic settlements on the isle and drove them back into the waves from whence they came. Yet his great vision of a unified Ireland ended there, for after the Vikings left a great civil war ravaged what was once a proud kingdom.

Aedh died shortly after war broke out, his home was once again in turmoil, and his son Aedh II would never be able to copy his father's deed. This was the way of life for the Irish people, fighting endlessly against one another, scraping together meager armies of warriors and killing fellow Irish, all under a seemingly noble cause, all to be King of the Isle. For one hundred long years they fought one another, clan's rivalries turned into hatreds after such a long period of death and killing. Yet none of the warlords of chiefs would ever assume the title of King, though many tried. For each time one came close another would rise to make war upon him and the cycle would continue all over again. Few cared to look beyond the shores of their homeland; their arrogance grew with every passing year. They held themselves in such high regard simply because they had defeated the Vikings, every last one of them would prove to be fools in the end.

For there was a great threat rising beyond the shore, but not from the Vikings, they had built themselves an empire in Scotland, they were content there. This new threat seemed to put the Vikings to shame, a new enemy whose power only grew as time rolled forward. A people who, like the Vikings, had invaded Britain looking for plunder. The Saxons they called themselves, and their empire stretched far in the lands of Britain. They had arrived and cut a path of blood and death wherever they went; Saxon lore ran from the northern reaches of Northumbria in the south of Scotland, to the hills and former homes of the welsh, and down to the very southern shores of Britain itself. The Saxon King was a proud man, having carved out the largest empire in the Isle, he knew that no army could stand against him; except maybe the Vikings of course.

Yet the King of the Saxons, Wulfhid III, was intrigued greatly by the landmass of Ireland. He had been told tales of it in his youth, of the great warriors there who had expelled the fierce northern raiders and sent them back into the sea. However he looked to Ireland now and was deeply disappointed, for now all that was left was a land of greedy warlords scrounging for any sort of land they came hold together, each one of them to pathetic to even call a kingdom. It took it upon himself to pacify this war torn land, to bring order where chaos had free reign, to teach the Irish people what it was to have peace. It was the year 900 A.D when he invaded the Island, local armies were to tired to put up much of a fight, though they tried and fought with valor many times that of the Saxon invaders, they could not stand to a charge of the deadly Huscarls as they exited out from behind their shield wall.

Thus it began and thus it continued, The Irish armies were in shambles after the century of warfare that had plagued their island, and this new enemy was fiercer than any Viking their tales ever told of. Yet there was some who fought, and fight well they did, but their numbers were always too few. That is where our story begins, the story that was recounted to me so many years ago.


The Stand at Dun Ailinne (part 1)


Conall walked out of the Mead hall, stumbling around as he walked trying to keep his balance in his drunken state. This was becoming more frequent for him, and not something he was particularly proud of. He could barely open his eyes he was so drunk, the torches lighting the street gave little light for him. He stopped walking for a moment and looked up at the dark winder sky. Even in his current state he became lost in the open darkness and found it was a beautiful site. "F-father" he said, trying his best not to slur his wording. He could sense a dulled feeling of sadness creeping up onto him, something that had not been drowned in the large amount of mead he had just consumed, his sorrow had a strange habit of floating in a sea of drink no mater how much there was. "I-im ss-so sorry" he continued, his voice seemed more quiet than normal. Conall's eyes began to water, and tears began to fall from the small slits his eyelids had left open. he stumbled as he tried to walk again, tumbling into the wall of a house next to him. It wasn't even his home but that didn't matter, Conall simply sat down with his back to the stone structure and looked up again. Upon the ground he seemed to get a better view of the world, he laughed finally realizing he drank to much as his eyes closed and sleep came upon the tired warrior.

It was morning, well after when Conall finally awoke from sleep on the street. He wasn't surprised he had been left alone the entire night by the town's guard, with the War against the Saxons there was not many left to civil defenses, and still a sleeping drunk was not much of a bother to those who were. Many where out now, walking around trading at markets and drinking at the nearby hall, Conall tried to rise from his seat so he would not attract attention, but he was stopped by a large and pounding ache in his head. He fell right back to the ground holding his head on both sides trying to make the pain go away. His eyes opened as a small smile appeared on his face, his long brown hair was smashed under his hands as he slightly laughed "I had to much to drink." Conall took his right hand and wiped his eyes removing the dried tears from the night before, his sorrow had been pushed under the need to find a bed and sleep the rest of his pain and misery away. The warrior rose up; only now realizing his sword was by his side. His armor was heavy to him, he wore the garments of a royal guardsman to the king of the Irish, yet in fact there was no king. His weapon and dress were handed down through generations of his family, each worn by the first son. It was supposed to be a reminder of a time when his family had served Aedh the great, but that was a time far passed and Conall himself cared not the least about such things.

His head began to throb even harder as he reached his feet. The words of his father echoed through his mind as a guilty taint crossed his face. Conall's father, now dead, had led the warriors of Dun Ailinne out against the Saxon king himself one year ago, though they managed to drive the Saxon advance back and force them to retreat, his father and fully eighty percent of the Irish army was slain. The victory came at great cost, many saw it as a message; one that said to surrender to the invaders, but the more proud warriors realized that victory and peace would only come at the cost of blood, so they continued to fight on. "Protect the peace my son", those were the last words of Conall's father as he departed, and those words the young man never forgot. Conall was very young compared to the other warriors in the village, at no older than seventeen they used to joke endlessly with him, but Conall would just laugh and make them eat their words as he drank them under the table time and again.

A voice then rose above the crowd, the entire world seemed to hush as the words rang clear, though in fact the noise did no such thing. "You there, Guardsman!" The words were nothing like Conall had heard before. He had thought only in his family knew the cloths he wore were that of a Guard. His head turned searching for the voice, and behind him he saw a man no older than he, yet he seemed different. His black hair shone in the light of the clear morning sun, and by his look and build Conall figured he was very strong. Conall couldn't hide the fact he was confused, it shone through his face clearer than a torch in a dark forest. His eyes began to shake and soon the ache in his head seemed to all but disappear. The young man then spoke again, his voice seemed to command respect despite his young age. I did not think any still wore those cloths he said as a smile hit his face, yet they hide what he truly felt. Conall was no fool, and even hung-over like he was he could tell there was a look of worry and concern in this man's face.

"Who are you?" Conall asked, trying to hide the fact he was completely astonished and the fact that he was coming down from a night of drinking. The man looked about him for a moment, then replied rather arrogantly "I am Aedh the third!"

Conall burst into wild laughter at the comment. "I Am you know!" the man repeated, but his voice was filled with shock at Conall's reaction. The warrior couldn't help but laugh; this stranger had the nerve to claim decent from Aedh the great After a while Conall's laughter subsided he looked at the man smiling, still chuckling from time to time.

"Oh alright then." Conall laughed again, he dug beneath his armor as if searching for something. After a moment of this he pulled out a small pierce of parchment, on it there held a symbol, the symbol of the royal house of Ireland that Aedh the great had created those many years ago. The man smiled as it was presented before him, almost in a mirror image of Conall he brought out a small pierce of cloth, and on it was the exact same thing that Conall had. The warrior's eyes filled with alarm as he realized that this man truly was Aedh the third, grandson of the last king of Ireland. Conall couldn't believe it, his hands began to shake as he realized his wrong.

"I...I am so sorry my liege" he bowed his head, his eyes still wide in amazement. Aedh only replied to him a simple statement that filled the already worried guard with fear and put terror in his eyes.

"Gather all warriors you can, the Saxons come within the week" His voice was shockingly calm, as if he had known of this for a long time. Conall lifted his head to question this order, but Aedh was nowhere to be seen. Conall's fear only grew, and he felt his stomach tighten as the emotion gripped hold of him. If it was true that the Saxons had regrouped for another push into Irish territory, then there would be many who would fall both Saxon and Irish. Looking frantically about him, Conall scanned the crowd looking for Aedh, but found no luck in his search. One week he thought I must follow his orders...even if he isn't Aedh, I must raise the Alarm The guardsman raced down the street the short distance to the mead hall where he had stumbled from the night before and threw in the doors. The light from outside shinned in as the laughter inside poured out, the bards were telling their tales and many had gathered today to hear to saga of Aedh the great. Conall rushed to the front of the hall pushing aside the story tellers, to much annoyance to the patrons who had gathered.

His voice silenced them as he threw his hands up in warning crying out in a fear filled voice "Listen to me!" the hall became silent, quieter than the night sky after a storm. "The Saxons are coming this way! We must Gather our weapons and fight!" there was a silent wave of fear that crashed onto each man sitting in the hall; some were already drunk, but sober enough to understand the danger they were in. Each now sat in quiet disbelief in what they heard when a young man walked through the door. Conall's eyes fixed upon him, and immediately he knew it was Aedh, yet this time the crest of the royal line was standing in contrast attached to the front of his armor. The warriors within could not believe what they saw, their eyes opened wider than the seas and their fear turned to joy.

"I am Aedh the Third" Aedh shouted, his voice filling the halls and his commanding tone ringing in the ears of each present. "I have come from the north to lead you all into battle against the Saxons." a feeling of joy began to melt away the icy grip of fear that had once held these men as their faces echoed their emotion loud and clear. "All of you, I ask that now, we unite as we did in days long past, to expel the invaders who have disgraced our homeland with their uncaring feet." By now all of the warriors within could not hide their happiness, nor did they wish to. They were sitting with their hands upon their swords with smiles on their faces, for now they had a leader who could show them victory. "Will you stand with me?" Aedh asked, his voice never falling in confidence or tone. "Will you help me save our home?"

There was a great cry within the hall, and outside the hall to as people had heard him, this stranger asking for somebody to rise up with him, they gathered with their weapons, old and young to give their life for his cause. Voice filled the air, voices proclaiming their name and that of their family giving their service to the young man. As the voices died away Conall found himself in an uncontrolled state of joy as he smiled "And I, Conall the grey, stand with you." he was the last to give his allegiance openly, yet the most proud by far. The sun was high in the blue sky as the people followed Aedh to the nearby Keep and crowned him King, though it would take time for word to reach the other villages of the return of the royal line. Conall was appointed the king's guard, and served under Aedh as both his adviser and bodyguard, but the Saxons would be marching on Dun Ailinne in a matter of days, the battle that would follow, though unknown, would shape the course of history for all time.



edited: looks the the move to the new board caused a lot of the "" marks to dissapear. it's been fixed now.

Good story - looking forward to the rest. Kill the Saxon dogs

I make mine lord Rufus' words.

Whoops! this little baby just about fell into the dark oblivion, the new board is a bit tricky when it comes to older posts. Anyhow... the final part is now ready for the reading. I apologize for the long delay. :stwshame:


The Stand at Dun Ailinne (part II)


The sun rose slowly from the far eastern hills, its light poured into the sky clashing with the darkness already there. The dark shadow melted away before the onrushing light as the moon disappeared over the western horizon, the night was slowly leaving Ireland and morning was coming. A cold breeze skirted across the ground swirling up and then heading west, seeming to flee from the sun the wind died away and all became silent. There came a slight chirp, and moments later an answering call could be heard, the birds began singing in the early morning light and indeed not only was the night leaving the isle, but so too was winter. The sun climbed above the hills and stood proudly, it had been blocked so many times in the last months by the clouds some had forgotten what it looked like. The great light shown brightly, putting his warmth into the land. Trees rose up high as they took in the warmth, and the grass seemed to come alive in a way that had not been so in many days. Spring had finally come to this war torn land, and it was welcomed with open arms.

The village of Dun Ailinne was still standing, and its warriors still standing ready. It had been two weeks since Aedh had been crowned king, and many men began to rush to Dun Ailinne to meet the Saxons in battle, yet so far there was neither sight nor sound of them. Reports of their forces from scouts sent out from the village put the army four miles south; they seemed to be waiting, taking their time in getting to the village. In fact they were under constant raid from the warriors of Laigin, those who had not gathered at Dun Ailinne chose to make trouble for the Saxons at every turn by raiding their supplies. So far the Saxons had put their strength into dealing with them, this gave time for the Irish to gather forces, and the more time they had the better. The Saxon army headed by King Wulfhid III numbered at four or five thousand, and he was astonished that small bands of raiders could hold him up this long. The Irish in Dun Ailinne had assembled three thousand, yet they knew that more would come in time, but time was short.

Conall awoke; his sleep had been dreamless and peaceful. A kind of sleep he hadn't had in many days. Somehow he found himself at peace, even though the Saxons were only a short distance away. He smiled as he rose from his bed and laughed "Maybe I’ll be dead the next time I fall!" Conall said that every morning when he awoke after Aedh came to power again, in his heart he fully expected to die in the coming battle, but he knew that if he didn't fight now, there'd be no use in living. The Saxons would surely destroy the land and use it as a strategic base for invasions against the Vikings in northern Britain. Suddenly there was a crash from outside, he swung his head around to look where it had come from, though he quickly realized it came from outside. Conall threw open the door to his house and looked out, by him raced a rider who was shouting aloud as he went. Conall had been completely shaded in confusion until he heard what this man was saying, as the rider went by he looked at conall, and the rider's face was terrified. He shouted "To Arms! The Saxons Come!" before dashing down a side street. it would not take long for him to inform the entire village.

Conall smiled, though his insides were ruled by fear and it took all of his strength to keep from shaking, he was also at the same time over come with a strange sense of joy. He threw his brown hair back and laughed, his eyes opened wide as he shouted "Now is the time...Battle now awaits me..." Conall dashed inside, putting on his chain mail and grabbing his helm and sword he dashed out the door again. Horns were raised from all parts of the village, church bells were rung and soon all manners of men were coming from houses and streets rushing to the center of Dun Ailinne. When Conall came upon the village square, he spotted Aedh gathering the men and placing them under commanders. Aedh was shouting commands, giving men a place to stand once they had formed up for battle. Conall stepped through the crowd and grabbed the reigns to his horse that stood beside the king of the Irish. The proud animal looked him in the eyes as he stepped forward, and Conall moved his hand over his head and said in a low and equally proud voice "today my friend we ride to war" The horse shook his head, if Conall could read anything of his actions it appeared he was eager to ride.

The guard climbed into the saddle and placed his helm onto his head. Aedh got onto his horse beside Conall; Aedh turned and teased "I wonder if we'll all die today." Conall just laughed, from the king's tone it was clear he was joking. They both told their mounts to walk forward, and a path was cleared for the king and his 12 guards, Conall among them, to march forward. Behind them began marching the entire Irish force, as soon as the king had passed men followed.

Aedh led the Irish out from Dun Ailinne and south a bit, as they exited the village the bell in the church was rung. It rang clear, sending echoes across the land and then screaming back. The Irish marching out were filled with pride, though fear settled in their hearts, they marched forth putting their emotion aside to face their enemy. Men who had at one time fought one another, killed each other's friends and family members, now forgot all past transgressions. They were for the first time in a century a united people, and that made fulfilled them more than anything else. More than any currency could, more than any title of king or duke could. They were Irish, no longer separated by war, and together they marched against the Saxons.

Their march was short however, not even getting a half mile from the city before encountering the Saxons which had been on the march. The Irish knew that they were close, but this surprised them. Aedh quickly drew up his battle lines, as did the Saxons. The field on which they met was flat, aside from a few hills and trees, there was no tactical advantage in the area. The grass was very tall here, coming up to a man's knee, and as the two armies began to form up, a furious wind picked up from the north. The grass swayed in the wind as it screamed loudly. The Irish formed up ready to battle, with a spear line in the center and swordsmen units on the flanks, with a number of javelin throwers and dart men were out in front arrayed in a skirmish line. Missing from their line of battle was horses, aside from Aedh and his guard there was no cavalry force at this field. The Saxons had little horsemen as well, and the Irish were lucky of that fact. Saxon forces had assembled a line of spearmen, similar to those of the Irish only better trained. Behind them were the dreaded huscarls, who had spilled much blood since arriving in Ireland.

Conall looked about him as the wind was howling ceaselessly. His eyes were consumed with rage, remembering his slain father. He drew his sword and it shined in the sunlight. he then spoke to himself, and none heard him. His voice ravaged by both anger and fear he said "Give me the strength to stand here, to stand here at Dun Ailinne." almost if reacting to him the wind quieted and slowly fell away. The Irish in the line of battle were beginning to become anxious for battle, and rightfully so, for the Saxons began to advance. The Saxons army moved slowly, yet it covered a great amount of land easily. Closer they came, and the men of Ireland began to shout at them, taunting them and daring them to charge. The Saxons came into range of the javelin throwers out in front, and they needed no order to discharge their weapons at the Saxons. The darts and javelins slammed into the massed ranks of the spearmen, a few men fell, but none in great numbers. Again they released a volley, yet it met with much the same results as the first. The raised spears of the warriors of the spear wall helped to deflect incoming weapons, and after their second volley the men of the skirmish line fell back behind the main Irish force. By now the Saxons had enough of walking, and angered by the javelins charged ahead. The Irish readied their weapons and charged forth. Both lines of spearmen hit one another with devastating results on both sides, men were impaled and shields were broken on the spot. The huscalrs came out from behind the spear line with their axes swinging, they moved around the flanks of the spearmen ready to hit the Irish with all their fury, yet to meet them was some of the fiercest swordsmen the isle of Ireland had to offer.

Screaming promises of revenge for the war and devastation wrought on their land, the Irish charge ahead at the huscarls, and the axmen collided with them as a bloody battle began on both sides of the spearmen battle in the center. Each side was now deadlocked, as men were cut down and slain on all points of the field, be they of Saxon or Irish of birth, it mattered not, for death took them without care. Despite the superior skills of the huscarls they were unable to break through the Irish line, for the men of Ireland were motivated by the same cause, to drive the Saxons from the isle no matter what the cost, and they fought like men possessed by demons, their ferocity in battle was unmatched even by the finest axmen in the Saxon army.

Aedh raised his spear and shouted to his guards "Come! Let us find the King of all Saxons and slay him!" his guards needed no more instruction and followed him around the battle that raged on. Conall was ridding hard right beside Aedh, he sword was shinning as they charged forth. He was overcome by his anger, unable to see past his own hate for the them. The thought of killing Wulfhid was like a token for a thousand free drinks at the mead hall of Dun Ailinne. Aedh led his men behind the Saxons, and soon enough came upon Wulfhid and his guards. Aedh cried aloud holding high his spear, and shouted the order to attack. Conall and the rest of the guards went forth with their king and hit the Saxon horsemen, Conall drove his sword down upon the helm of a Saxon guard, and as his blood flowed from beneath, Conall's anger built. He turned and drove his sword into another, and as he drew his weapon from his body blood fell onto the ground below as the Saxon’s lifeless body dropped from his horse.

Aedh was battling the King of the Saxons himself, and as Conall's attention was drawn away, a guard of the Saxon king came at him. He turned his head in time to see the spear driving toward him. Conall struck the spear with his sword and deflected it away from his face, but it drove into his shoulder all the same, and as the Saxon removed his spear Conall grabbed his right shoulder as blood began to run free from his body, his sword fell from his hand as his arm was covered in scarlet. Knowing that his death could be imminent, and with free coming to the forefront of his mind he dug his heels into his horse and tried to get away from the Saxon, but even as he did another came close and cut into his horse, the beast went down throwing Conall into the air. He flew some distance before landing, and as the battle raged on around him he couldn't help but hold fear in the place of his anger now. The pain in his shoulder was mounting, it seemed that nothing he did could stop it. soon, as he lay on the ground, his eyes shut and all he saw was blackness. The sounds of battle slowly faded into nothing, and he neither saw nor heard.

Conall awoke sometime later, the feeling of water upon his face. His eyes opened slowly to find the sky grey and his throat very dry. He tried to move his arms, but they refused as did his legs. The roar of battle that had filled his ears was gone; a quiet rainstorm was all that remained. Conall forced his head to move and he looked to his left to see many dead Saxon guards around. He struggled as he drew his head to look to his right, and there he saw beside him the broken crown of the Saxon king lying near him. There was blood upon the crown, and when the image sunk into his brain he laughed, but as he laughed he could feel strength fading in him. Even now his legs refused to move, and as he lay motionless tears began to form in his eyes.

Yet a sound filled the air that made him smile even though he was dying, it was the sound of the church bell of Dun Ailinne ringing, sounding the victory that the Irish had just won. Conall could feel his body going numb and now nothing moved, not even his head. as darkness covered his eyes, he summoned the power to make one last call, and with his last breath he cried "Victory!" tears rolled from his eyes as his voice echoed crossed the body littered field. His voice was filled no longer with anger, no longer filled with fear; all that was left was his pride. And as he let out his final shout, he closed his eyes, and passed out of the living world.

The Irish had indeed won a victory, for after conall had lost consciousness, the swordsmen were able to scatter the huscarls and surround the spearmen in the center. Aedh had slain Wulfhid, and those of the Saxons who refused to leave the field were slain to the very last man. Sources say that the Saxons lost four thousand men to the Irish's two thousand. After the battle, Aedh continued the campaign against the Saxons, and won ultimate victory two years later. The Saxon armies were expelled from Ireland just as St. Patrick had driven out all the snakes. Their power was broken by the Irish and the Saxon empire fractured into Civil war, much like Ireland had once been.

Dun Ailinne was abandoned one year after the battle mostly because many of it's warriors had died in the battle, and none have ever been there since. Yet some say that at times, you can still hear the bell ringing. People have their tales, some say that the descendants of survivors of the battle go to the ruined city and ring the bell honoring the past sacrifices. Yet others claim that the bell rings itself, giving one last hail to the men who died, standing together at Dun Ailinne.

Good story, Monk! Another heroic tale for the Mead Hall.

I do think that the second part could have used a little more emotion (I don't consider cries for vengeance much in the way of emotion), but that is nit-picking. I say again, it is a good story, and I enoyed reading it very much.

I am very glad you enjoyed it Ludens,

on the second part: i agree with you 100%. Part II went through numerous re-writes, i lost count at around the tenth or so. And reading it now, there are times where it seems I rushed a bit. Yet all in all it came out ok imho, and despite my worry it has been recieved rather well. (though not many like to post about it ~;) )

Thank you for taking the time to read it. once again, :medievalcheers: