This is a stroy based on the film, Return of the King, and not on Tolkiens fantastic book.
DISCLIAMER:Anything belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema.
Hope and Fear
The soldiers came up the hill, carrying our captain, Faramir, the Last son of the Steward. He was dying.
I could see his face, when the formation passed by me. I could feel the tears pressing and a lump in my throat. My land, my people, my life, was dying. This was the End.
The Street laid, in total darkness. I couldn't remember, when I slept the last, and my sense of time were gone, for all were night now. I was trapped in a nightmare.
I went to my Hall, to have my watch. But what was where to watch? An army, at least hundred times larger surrounding Minas Tirith, as a huge, black sea of death. Yes, I'd seen it.
I dressed in black and silver, the uniform of the Tower Guard, while thinking: Would I ever be able, to take it of again?
But suddenly, something made me return to the reality. Laud screams, ripping the air. I ran out and saw, heads chopped off, lying in the streets. It was the heads of Gondorian soldiers, my kinsmen.
I recognised a friend of mine, as I saw riding through the streets without any hope, along with a hundred or so, to fight the entire army of Mordor. That was not 6 hours ago, but I felt it was like an eternity.
I saw a house in ruins, and I looked up. Stones were thrown towards the city, with huge damage, wherever they hit. It was no longer safe inhere, so I grabbed my shield and my spear, and ran outside again.
Then, I heard a voice in my head, saying "Let it end, let me die. What can I do, I can't fight them." And then, a voice so horrible, that I thought it was the sky itself, came from above: "ABANDON YOUR POSTS! FLEE; FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!"
It was the Steward. Even he hadn't any hope. We were doomed. What should I do, where should I hide, I couldn't escape. My mind, were no longer able to think. There were no hope or faith, inside me anymore. My only thought was death.
But now, there came, an even stronger voice, from above: "Prepare for Battle!" The words cut through my mind, commanding me to fight, to resist.
I ran to the main street, and there came Mithrandir riding on his horse, as a light in the dark shouting, "Hurry, men! To the wall! Defend the wall!" "Return to your posts!"
My hope returned. I had to fight. Not to surrender, before the End. His call was like a spell, but much more healthy, than the Stewards voice. It had the warmth of life.
I followed him, there was nothing else to do, and stood with the other soldiers, at the wall. I heard him shout again "Send these foul beasts down in the abyss" The last fight was begun.
The trebuchet slung the stone, out in the black sea, as stones thrown in the ocean. I saw it hit, with joy in my heart, but the moment after, there wasn't any difference more, there were too many. We couldn't win, but I clung me to my last hope. To despair now, was the same as surrender. Something, I was determined, never to do again.
I saw other stones thrown out in the darkness. Yes, the resistance was begun indeed, and we fought.
Stones flew from each side for some time. But, then they came. The Nazguls.
They came like a cloud of death and darkness. And then the scream, their infamous scream. It cut through the air, and it came into my mind, as a poison. It fought a fight against my hope, with the weapons of ill; fear, doubt and despair.
Anywhere there they were seen, people ran away. They couldn't resist the strongest weapon of Mordor. And anywhere there they stood their ground, the fell beasts they flew on, grabbed the men of Gondor, to let them fall to the ground, or pushed them down in their death.
I closed me in myself, as good as I could, but always the despair was ready to kill my will of fight. At that time, we saw giant towers that were pulled towards the wall. We shot at them, but they took no harm. Instead we had to kill the trolls that pushed the towers. But trolls are hard to kill, indeed. There was nothing to do, in the end the towers reached the wall, and a horde of orcs entered the wall.
I fought the best I could, but there came more and more. Always I had to be quick, kill one orc, and then the next, and always there was one to kill me, at any mistake I did. There was no time to fail, one wrong action, and my eyes would close forever.
But, there fought Mithrandir, he was like a lightning, dressed in his white robes. As long as he was there, they couldn't lose. He stood his ground, like Hurin of Dor-lomin in the battle of Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and I felt like he was the only defending our world; our last hope.
We fought against them for nearly an hour, but at last, though with many loss, we had held the wall. My hope came back, and I said to a man "We can win!"
But I could see the hope had died in him, and he said with a tired voice "But for how long?"
My mood went down again, he was right. But what was there to do, other than to resist? I had no other hope, than to trust Mithrandir, and follow him.
Down from the fields, a rough and terrible cry came: "Grond! Grond! Grond!" it was like the earth itself cried.
I saw an enormous creature coming towards the city. It was the most terrifying thing I ever had seen. It was totally black, but there was fire in its mouth. It was Grond, their feared ram, named after the Hammer of the Underworld. Even not the Gate of Minas Tirith, could stand against it. If the gate was forced, we were doomed.
Not an hour after, it reached the gate, our supplies of arrows, were beginning to shrink, and every orc we shot, was like pricking a giant with needles. There was no difference. It began to hunt me; there WAS no difference. I couldn't resist the thought, that even if I thought for a month, it's wouldn't be enough.
Grond stroke the gate with a terrible crash, and I took my place at the street behind it. We formed a line to make our last stand in the first level.
Grond stroke the gate again, and when it stroke third time, the awful wildboar head, made a large hole in the gate. Now they came.
Mithrandir, our last hope raised his voice, "Whatever comes out of these gates, you will hold your ground."
Grond stroke for the forth, and last time; the Gate was breached. My worst fear came true. There in the Gate, three giant trolls showed up, and they came towards us.
I was unable to move because of my fear. One of the trolls lifted its club to strike, and it hit my shield, so I was thrown away; they had broken trough our line.
An orc came towards me as I laid there, and I thought that I should die, but to my surprise, I could still move. I dropped my shied, and drew my sword. The orc came closer, but I was prepared, and I hit the orc in the bailey, and it was dead.
I look around, and saw hordes of orcs coming into the city, and I realised that the gate was lost. It was only a matter of time, before we all were dead.
I heard Mithrandir voice again, the only one, who didn't despair, "Fall back to the second level!" No, he to was begun to realise the fact, that the battle was lost.
I ran through the streets, to get to the second wall. I had to fight me through the orc, which were plundering the city. And anywhere I looked, the houses were on fire, all I saw were death and destruction. I saw a small glimpse of light in the horizon. The sun rose, but with what hope. My hope has died, and it would be forever.
But then a brittle voice, reached the city. It was the voice of a horn! At last, help had arrived.
New chapters will come soon.
