Chapter 212: The Battle of Hardhome – Part 1

Chapter 212: Chapter 212: The Battle of Hardhome – Part 1

Jacob stood on the frozen shore, his eyes fixed on the distant mountains. The blizzard was almost upon Hardhome, a wall of white and grey that swallowed the sky and turned the world into a frozen nightmare.

Behind him, ninety thousand Free Folk watched in terrified silence. They clutched their children, their weapons, and each other. The wind howled, carrying the distant sound of shrieks and screams.

"They’re here," Jacob said calmly. "Let’s watch and let the Thenns and the other three clans fight them for now."

In the distance, above the mountains, the army of the dead appeared from the blizzard.

They came like a wave of rot and cold—a tide of blue-eyed corpses that spilled over the cliffs like water. They didn’t climb down. They didn’t slow. They simply fell, tumbling down the rocky slopes. Some of them had their bones shattered, lost arms, jaws, legs, ribs—but most of them rose from the snow-covered ground unharmed, while those who lost their legs crawled on their hands.

There were tens of thousands of wights. They advanced through the snow toward the Thenns and the three other clans, as they were the closest to them, their blue eyes glowing like cold stars.

White Walkers rode down the mountain on dead horses, their ice blades gleaming, and joined the wights.

The White Walkers looked up at the cliff, where the Night King appeared with his generals riding on horses and watching the battlefield.

The Night King raised his spear, and the White Walkers down the mountain shrieked. The army of the dead charged.

Loboda stood at the front of his people, his axe in his hand, his scarred face twisted with defiance.

He had seen the dead before. He had fought them. He knew what they were capable of.

But not like this. Not this many.

"Form a line!" he roared. "Shields forward! Spears behind! Archers, nock your arrows!"

The Thenns and the other three clans scrambled into formation. They were warriors—fierce, proud, bloodied by a lifetime of fighting. But their hands were shaking. Their eyes were wide.

"Get the children and the non-fighters to the back!" Loboda shouted. "Move them toward the shore! If we fall, they swim! They survive!"

The children were dragged toward the Shivering Sea. The old and the weak followed. Women clutched their babies, their faces pale with terror.

Soon, the first wave of wights hit the Thenn lines like a hammer.

They didn’t fight like men. They didn’t feel pain, fear, or exhaustion. They just kept coming—clawing, biting, tearing. Their rotten fingers ripped through flesh. Their teeth found throats. Their bodies piled on top of each other, forming mountains of corpses that climbed over the shield walls.

The Thenns fought back with desperate fury. Axes cleaved through rotting skulls. Spears pierced chests. Swords severed limbs. But for every wight that fell, two more took its place.

A White Walker rode through the chaos on a dead horse, his ice blade gleaming. He swung, and a Thenn warrior fell—dead before he hit the ground. The White Walker rode on, carving a path through the defenders like a scythe through wheat.

More White Walkers followed. Their shrieks cut through the wind, freezing the blood in the veins of the living. Their ice blades shattered steel and bone with equal ease.

And what was worse, the White Walkers used their magic, and the dead Free Folk rose with blue eyes and joined the ranks of the dead army.

---

High above the battlefield, on a rocky outcropping, the Night King watched.

His face was pale and ancient, carved from ice and hatred. His blue eyes burned with cold intelligence. He sat on a dead horse, his spear in his hand, his generals gathered around him.

He watched the Thenns and the other three clans fight, watched them die, and then join his ranks as wights.

Then his gaze shifted to the far shore, roughly two miles from the battle, where Jacob and the ninety thousand Free Folk stood.

His glowing blue eyes swept over them. He looked at the giants and mammoths with greed, then his gaze moved to Jacob and his family, studying each of them in turn. Finally, his gaze settled on Jacob himself—who was staring back with crimson eyes and a mocking smirk.

The Night King’s eyes flickered with something that might have been interest.

He raised his spear.

The White Walkers on the ground shrieked in response. The wights attacked with renewed fury, pouring over the wooden walls that the Thenns and the others tried to hide behind like a tide of rot and bone.

---

Jacob disappeared and came back a moment later with Victoria and Chris.

He said to Chris, "Those are the army of the dead. You should learn how they fight."

Then he waved his hand, and a space portal appeared next to him. Soon, Lydia came through from Serendell, and the portal closed.

Lydia looked at the chaotic battlefield, then looked at Jacob. "Jay, why did you call me?"

Jacob said, "I want you to tell me what you feel about the Night King and his generals." He nodded with his head toward the cliff where the Night King was. "They are on that cliff."

Lydia’s eyes glowed white as she looked at the Night King and his generals for a few moments. Then she said, "They are not dead."

Samwell asked with wide eyes, "Not dead?"

Lydia nodded. "They are definitely not dead. I know how the dead feel." She looked at the chaotic battlefield. "Those skeletal ones attacking that camp over there are dead. They are just puppets with no soul. But the ones riding horses and looking like they are made of ice, and the ones on the cliff, are definitely alive. They are just no longer humans—they are supernatural creatures."

Stiles said, "So the Night King was just a man, but when the Children of the Forest wanted a weapon against humanity, they shoved dragonglass into his chest and used dark magic to turn him into a supernatural creature that can control corpses like puppets and turn people into White Walkers—just like an alpha werewolf turns people with a bite."

Lydia said, "Yeah."

Jacob smirked. "I think that kind of power would suit you, Stiles. You could control the corpses of beautiful women. Too bad we killed all the Children of the Forest."

Stiles groaned. "Come on, will you guys stop with the necrophilia jokes?"

Jacob, Allison, Lydia, Malia, Victoria, Chris, and Kitty laughed.

---

Loboda fought with everything he had.

His axe was wet with rotten black blood. His armor was torn. His face was streaked with grime and gore. He cut down one wight, then another, then a third. But they just kept coming.

"Hold the line!" he shouted. "Hold!"

He caught a glimpse of the Night King on the cliff above. He saw the pale figure raising his spear. He saw the wights surge forward like a wave.

And he knew.

They weren’t going to make it.

A wight tackled him from the side. He threw it off, but another grabbed his leg. Then another. Then another. They swarmed him like ants, their frozen hands tearing at his armor, his flesh, his face.

Loboda screamed.

And then he was dead.

Without Loboda to lead them, the warriors of the Thenn and the other three clans broke. They scattered, running toward the shore, toward the sea, toward anything that wasn’t death.

But there was nowhere to run.

The wights swarmed them. They dragged them down, tore them apart. The White Walkers rode through the chaos, their ice blades flashing, their shrieks freezing the air. They used their magic, and the corpses of the dead stood and turned into soldiers in the army of the dead.

The women, the children, and the non-combatants—who had been standing on the shore of the Shivering Sea and watching the massacre in fear—were the only ones left now, about seven thousand.

They were about to jump into the frozen water when a giant fire snake, fifty meters long and ten meters thick, came and burned all the wights heading for them and stood there protecting them.

The White Walkers shrieked, and the wights stopped attacking and backed away from the giant fire snake.

The Night King turned from the battlefield to the ninety thousand far away from the battlefield, and his blue eyes focused on Jacob, who was holding a small flame in his hand and staring back at him.

The Night King pointed his spear toward them.

The White Walkers on the ground shrieked in response and turned toward Jacob and marched.

The wights charged past them toward Jacob.

Jacob watched the wights coming with a smirk.

He turned to the ninety thousand Free Folk behind him. Their faces were pale. Their eyes were wide, but they had hope after seeing him use the giant fire snake attack.

He raised his voice.

"Watch. And remember what you see here today."

He turned to face the advancing army of the dead.

"Everyone, go on. Show them what you’ve got. But don’t use powerful attacks—we don’t want to scare the Night King. I want him to still have hope of winning against us in the future."

Malia frowned. "Why aren’t we killing him now?"

Jacob said, "Because I want to use him and his army to unite Westeros. But we are going to wipe out this army he brought with him today. Only he and his generals will leave here alive."

Allison asked, "Are you going to participate?"

Jacob nodded. "Yes, but not now. You guys go have fun. Kill half of them and leave half for me."

Allison rolled her eyes. "You want to show off again."

Jacob grinned. "Yes. But I will not go crazy. I will call Kisarax to show her to the Free Folk, and I will also use a move or two."

Allison drew her sword, Shusui. "Mom. Girls." A smile spread across her face. "Let’s have some fun."

She charged toward the army of the dead.

Malia, Lydia, Sansa, Victoria, Arya, Kitty, and Brienne followed.

Stiles turned to Jacob. "Jacob, please give me that machine gun to play with."

Jacob shook his head. "No. Like I said, I don’t want to scare the Night King too much. I’ll give it to you later. If you want to fight, use a sword or an axe."

Stiles sighed. "Fine." Then he grinned excitedly. "But give me your sword. I can’t kill them with normal swords."

Jacob handed Stiles his sword, Griffin.

Stiles took it and ran after the girls.

Jacob looked at Chris by his side. "Aren’t you going to fight?"

Chris said, "Do you have a sword I can borrow?"

Jacob took a sword from his pocket dimension and handed it to Chris. "This sword was in Bloodraven’s cave. I took it when we left in a hurry when the Jubokko was awakening."

Chris took the sword, which had a black, plain scabbard, and drew it. It was a thin, narrow, lightweight longsword.

Jacob said, "It’s called Dark Sister. It’s a legendary Valyrian steel sword belonging to House Targaryen."

Samwell, Edd, Jon, Benjen, Bran, and Meera looked at the sword curiously.

Chris tested the sword’s balance with a few swings. "Nice sword." He hung the scabbard at his waist and smiled. "It’s mine now, right?"

Jacob smiled back. "Sure."

Chris said, "Thanks. Alright, I’m going to have fun." He ran into the battle.

---

The Battle

Allison moved like the wind. Her katana, Shusui, was coated in cyan wind energy, and she sliced through wights with ease. Her wind energy destroyed them completely, so every wight she cut didn’t get up again. She moved too fast—the wights didn’t even react before they were cut in half.

Malia fought like a beast. Her sword, Tessaiga, transformed into a massive fang-shaped cleaver with white fur erupting from the hilt. She channeled her energy into it, and the blade crackled with lightning. Each swing sent arcs of electricity through the wights, shattering them into pieces.

Arya was a blur of motion. Her Valyrian steel dagger flashed in the pale light. She moved through the enemy like a ghost—appearing, striking, disappearing.

Kitty and Victoria also became blurs, using their vibranium daggers to destroy wights.

Stiles was having the time of his life. He swung Griffin left and right, and the enchanted blade sliced through the wights like butter. Then he grinned. "Let me use my famous move—Whirlwind—again!" He started spinning fast and went deep inside the army of the dead, destroying them while laughing like a maniac.

Brienne’s Valyrian steel sword cut through dead flesh and frozen bone with equal ease. She fought with the discipline of a trained knight, her movements precise and economical. She didn’t waste a single motion.

Chris, on the other hand, didn’t bother with wights. He went straight for the White Walkers. They were stronger than wights, but Chris killed them with ease, and every time he killed one, the wights around him crumbled to dust.

Sansa and Lydia used fire, sending fireballs toward wights and burning them to ash. When they realized that White Walkers were immune to fire, they used the Firaga spell. Although it was fire too, it exploded upon impact and killed the White Walkers from the kinetic energy of the explosion.

The White Walkers ordered some wights to swarm Allison and the others with numbers, and ordered the rest to ignore them and attack the Free Folk behind them.

Allison waved her sword and sent a slash of wind energy, destroying all the wights surrounding her. Then she sent another, destroying the wights that had passed her and were heading toward Jacob and the Free Folk. She sheathed her sword and looked toward Jacob, sending him a telepathic message.

[Jay, although we’re way stronger than them, we can’t stop them from passing us and attacking the Free Folk if we don’t use destructive attacks. Can I use my bow?]

Jacob replied telepathically, [Sure, why not. Lydia and Sansa already went crazy using the Firaga spell. If the Night King isn’t already scared of us, then he never will be. Anyway, use your bow—just don’t use too much energy.]

Allison took out her bow, the Emberheart. She nocked an arrow made of lightning, drew, and released.

The arrow struck a cluster of wights and exploded. Fifty of them fell—vaporized by the blast. Allison fired again, and again, and again. Every arrow destroyed dozens.

Stiles killed a White Walker and watched thirty wights around it crumble to dust. He grinned.

"Malia! Arya! Brienne! Victoria! Kitty!" he shouted. "Forget about the wights! Kill the ice bastards! The corpses they control will be destroyed!"

Malia, Arya, Victoria, Kitty, and Brienne changed their tactics. They stopped playing with wights and targeted the White Walkers, cutting them down one by one. With each death, more wights crumbled.

The Free Folk watched in stunned silence. They had never seen anything like it. These few fighters were destroying an army of the dead with ease.

Benjen was shocked—it was his first time seeing them fight.

Jon, Samwell, Edd, Bran, Rickon, Meera, Osha, and Tormund watched with admiration. They weren’t shocked—not after seeing Jacob’s fight with the Jubokko.

Karsi walked to Tormund and said, "So our king and his people really don’t need us."

Tormund, not looking away from the battlefield, said, "Yes. We are the ones who need them."

Karsi said, "I’m glad I chose wisely—unlike Loboda and his stubbornness."

Tormund nodded. "Me too, friend. Glad you didn’t make the wrong choice."

The fight continued. The army of the dead was being decimated.

To be continued... 😊

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