"Old Philosophies Reface"
As the Rohirrim passed through Gondorian Territory, the memories and legends of old reeled through their minds. Among those surfacing was the battle between Lady Eowyn of Rohan and the Nazgul Witch King that took place in the very field they just crossed. Now, over three centuries later, the free races of Middle Earth found themselves in a similar position with a new but unlikely tyrant. The ancestor of Grima Wormtounge took up the throne that the Dark Lord Sauron was ripped from hundreds of years ago. When Gandalf the White had uncovered that Wormtounge was secretly serving Sarumon, the puppet of Sauron, the murderous advisor was ousted from the kingdom of Rohan upon pain of death. He eventually murdered his master and had high hopes to seek revenge upon Theoden and his country. Unfortunately for him, he never got the chance. The grudge was carried for many generations until finally Gwamir Wormtounge moved into the abandoned city of Barad Dur, reviving the Uruk Hai and remaking the Orcs into mindless Berserkers. The new breed of Orc was stronger, faster and less prone to injury. Gwamir's army rivaled that of the previous Dark Lord's in quantity and quality. Now that their freedom was at stake, men and elves united to fight the New Order, as the invasion had been dubbed. The shout of Rohan's current king, Addredoc, broke the dull drone of hoof beats upon the grassy terrain. The army of several hundred mounted soldiers pressed on, their destination being the White City of Minas Tirith. After about an hour or so, the white gates came into view and the Horse Lords marveled at its size. The company skid to a sudden halt in front of the gates, swords and armor clanking noisily. Gondorian and Rivendell archers lined the top of the North and East walls, all stringing their bows in anticipation of the coming battle. The gates creaked open and the Rohirrim passed into the safety of the city, the soldiers dismounting until further instruction from their king. Addredoc dismounted and was greeted by Lady Arwen who was surprisingly dressed in the armor of Gondor as opposed to the green of Rivendell. She embraced the Horse Lord and smiled wearily "Welcome, Marshal of the Riddermark. It has been said that Wormtounge's army is one thousand strong. We have more able fighters than them, but the enemies are enhanced." The lady elf trailed off obviously worried. When Aragorn died, she had taken his place at the throne, much to her father's dismay. The young king nodded and stepped away from her. "We will stand and fight." he announced, "Too long have my forefathers run to Helms Deep and stuck their frightened heads in the mountain sand. I shall learn from their mistakes." The elven maiden smiled upon the man and stood, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. Addredoc returned the smile and moved back towards the Rohirrim, remounting his horse and putting the men into their positions.
All of a sudden, a yell erupted from the South Wall, the creaking and moaning of the gates opening sent everyone's heart thundering in their chests. Lord Elrond, Arwen and Addredoc all looked at each other and for a fleeting moment, terror was evident in their eyes. Addredoc quickly spurred his horse into a gallop toward the Southern Gates, his sword drawn and ready. As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with the front line of the Galadhrim Army. He backed his horse off the protesting Lorien elves and sat flabbergasted in front of the army. Celeborn, King of the Lorien elves, trotted his horse to the gawking man, smiling faintly. The elf's blue and silver armor shone in what little light there was, an approaching storm swallowing the sun. "We must move quickly. the Orcish army is no more than a league away and are moving at an unbelievevably fast rate." He explained to the man. Addredoc nodded and cantered back to the North Gate, his hopes deliriously high. The three armies at the helm were greeted by the powerful booming of several hundred horses making their way from the Southern end of Minas Tirith. Addredoc resumed his position at the front of the Rohirrim who stood deathly still behind the front gate, waiting to ambush. Celeborn sent his archers up with the Rivendell and Gondor archers atop the North Wall and set his cavalry behind the Horse Lords. Ominous black clouds rolled even further in, blanketing the sky with darkness and thunder sounded in the distance. The warriors were poised for battle long before the Berserker Army was sighted, moving at an unearthly speed. Arwen told her archers to remain hidden behind the stone shielding of the upper wall until given the signal to fire, Elrond and Celeborn telling the same to their archers. The Gondor cavalry was being provided with weapons and they fell in line behind the Galadhrim, the horses skirting around a bit with anxiety. Rain fell like alligator tears from the black void above them, soaking everything within a few moments. It felt like an eternity before the opposing army got within firing range, the Berserkers closing the gap between them quickly. In the moment before the first confrontation, the soldiers were hit with the painful realization that they may not make it back home. In an instant, all chaos was let loose. Arwen gave the signal and hundreds of archers stood and aimed at the first wave of enemies. Once the arrows found their mark the Uruks went insane, launching a very sketchy attack on the heavily armored fortress. The gates flew open and the Rohirrim shot out, followed by the Galadhrim and the Gondorians who were doing a great job of striking down the foes. Addredoc led the large group into the thick of the Uruk army, his horse rearing regally as he slashed down his foes. Blood and rainwater splashed upon the grass and against the city walls, creating a morbid mural on the stones. Ladders were constructed and the Uruks heaved them against the wall as the rest scrambled up the slippery wooden incline. The archers deftly eliminated most of the invaders, but some managed to evade the arrows aimed at them. Down on the battlefield, men and elves alike were falling rapidly, no match for their mutant enemies and their anguished cries mingled with the thunder of the storm. The Uruks had managed to infiltrate Minas Tirith and homes were burned along with everything else, sending civilians screaming from their safe houses. Celeborn acknowledged their current plight and called for a retreat, heading to the currently uninhabited North Watch Tower to regroup and think of new strategies. Addredoc followed suit and the rest of Galadhrim and Rohirrim took shelter in the tower as well. Addredoc trotted in last, bloody, wet and cold. His mount snorted and let it's head lag, seemingly representing everyone's physical state. He bolted the door and noted their rapidly diminishing numbers with a bitter half smile. Celeborn led his horse to the human king and he too counted the remaining warriors huddled in the tiny enclosure. The elf placed a hand on Addredoc's shoulder, looking quite un-elf like, disheveled and ragged "Do not give up hope, Addredoc, King of the Riddermark and Lord of the Horse People. The battle is not lost." With that, the two moved to a shattered window to watch the raging battle taking place outside. Arwen Evenstar, the light of her people stood upon the front wall, restringing her bow with fluid grace before notching an arrow and aiming it at an approaching Uruk. She pulled the string taught and released, the arrow flying through its target and moving on to strike down another enemy. Her Gondorian tunic was stained red beyond repair as she brought down another two invaders who were making their way up a recently erected ladder. She began barking orders at the archers under her command and saw her father struggling with Uruk problems of his own. Thinking quickly she aimed an arrow at one of her father's attackers, lining up the shot. Suddenly, a sharp, hot pain ripped through her back from right between her shoulder blades. There was a slicing noise and she felt herself falling, the ground rushing up at her. She heard her father's frantic shouts and a triumphant orcish grunt before her body made contact with the ground. Celeborn and Addredoc shot out from the Watch Tower with their armies close behind, taking the surrounding Uruks by surprise. The first group was slashed down with ease, plaguing the Rohirrim with only a few minor abrasions. Addredoc glanced towards the wall and inwardly winced as elves and men fell from the top to be smote upon the bloody grass below, their bodies quickly trampled. Orders shouted in Elvish, Orcish, and the Common Tongue blended with the thunder crashing overhead. It was the image of pure and unbridled havoc, leaving everyone reeling from its effects. Celeborn slashed and hacked his way through a large, violent group before looking to the west and visibly paling at the sight that greeted him. The elves under his command immediately halted their horses and began to murmur prayers in their language. Addredoc glanced in that direction and cursed colorfully, reigning in his horse sharply. He looked at their remaining numbers and shook his head, thoughts of retreat running rampant into his mind. More than ninety mountain trolls marched towards the city from out of the neighboring forest, their handlers being 100 more Uruk Berserkers armed with spiked maces. Without warning, Celeborn dug his heels into his mount's middle and took off at a full gallop towards the East Tower. The elf dismounted gracefully and sprinted into the tower and up the stairs, nearly slipping on the water. Thunder boomed as he reached the top and found what he was looking for. In the middle of the room sat the Horn of Gondor on an eloquent tapestry bearing Minas Tirith's White Tree. Celeborn ran to it and blew it as loud as possible, the bass sound reverberating in the air and he ran to a dusty window. Right on cue, a huge blue dragon erupted from within the trees of the forest the trolls traveled through and wheeled in the sky. The Berserkers went ballistic and nearly climbed over each other to find an adequate escape route.
The huge scaly creature dove downward and met the troop of troll's head on, the lightning illuminating the azure scales and making them shimmer.
Another bolt of lightning streaked dramatically across the sky as the massacre began in the legendary field. The armies watched in shock as the dragon demolished the trolls and their handlers before taking cover in the city from the creature. The beast finished with the trolls and moved on to the Uruks in the city, sending limbs and bones flying through the air. The warriors watched the murder and cheered with gusto, making sure to stay out of the dragon's path of destruction. Celeborn hopped back onto his horse and cantered to Addredoc, a smug grin on his beautiful elven features. "This is the second time you've surprised me today. when did you plan to inform me of the huge scaly fire-breather that was taking up refuge in the forest right next to us?" Addredoc's voice dripped with sarcasm and a sardonic smile played on his face. Rain dripped from the tips of both of their noses as they sit and watched the action. "Actually, she is a last resort. and she is only aiding us because she is in Gandalf's debt." Celeborn informed the man, and smiling at his confused expression "She? That flesh eater is female?" The elf laughed and nodded. "Indeed. and a mother as well. Gandalf saved her kits from a group of rouge Uruk Hai." He was cut off as they ducked to avoid a flying orc leg. They straightened and noticed that Elrond was apparently looking for something on the ground below the wall. Lord Elrond of Rivendell ran along the North Wall, looking at the bodies below and calling out her daughter's name repeatedly. He couldn't distinguish the elf maiden's body from the sea of corpses that lay below and called for help. Word traveled quickly and soon all of the Rivendell army and the Gondorian army were looking for their Lady Arwen's fallen body. Finally one of the Rivendell elves came across her and carried her lifeless form into the city for a proper burial. All of those who survived the battle made their way inside while still being pummeled by the driving rain. There was a small ceremony for the elven princess and the elves sang a lament in her honor before she was buried in the catacombs alongside King Aragorn. Lord Elrond was heartbroken, yet held no outward sign of his despair. The weather matched the overall mood and Addredoc took a casualty count, grimacing at the losses they experienced. Rain still fell with flourish when Elrond, Celeborn and Addredoc slipped out of Minas Tirith to think for a while. They stood under the archway, sheltered from the storm, and watched the dragon pick the Uruk bones that lay strewn across the field. The three remaining blood-covered leaders sat and watched the dragon, thoroughly exhausted. Addredoc removed his helmet and ran a gloved hand through his blonde hair, blood streaking his face. They sat like that for a long while, the dragon eventually taking her leave and flying toward the Misty Mountains and the rain slowing to a dull drizzle. A few hours later there was a break in the clouds, the jovial blue sky seeming to peek out and mock all that had just been part of the battle. Sunlight made its way to the White City of Minas Tirith and blood shone like liquid rubies splattered over everything. Eventually Addredoc stood, ignoring the pain in his protesting muscles. He looked toward the sky that the clouds had revealed and leaned against the huge arch. "Tomorrow is another day." he told his elven comrades. "Tomorrow."
As the Rohirrim passed through Gondorian Territory, the memories and legends of old reeled through their minds. Among those surfacing was the battle between Lady Eowyn of Rohan and the Nazgul Witch King that took place in the very field they just crossed. Now, over three centuries later, the free races of Middle Earth found themselves in a similar position with a new but unlikely tyrant. The ancestor of Grima Wormtounge took up the throne that the Dark Lord Sauron was ripped from hundreds of years ago. When Gandalf the White had uncovered that Wormtounge was secretly serving Sarumon, the puppet of Sauron, the murderous advisor was ousted from the kingdom of Rohan upon pain of death. He eventually murdered his master and had high hopes to seek revenge upon Theoden and his country. Unfortunately for him, he never got the chance. The grudge was carried for many generations until finally Gwamir Wormtounge moved into the abandoned city of Barad Dur, reviving the Uruk Hai and remaking the Orcs into mindless Berserkers. The new breed of Orc was stronger, faster and less prone to injury. Gwamir's army rivaled that of the previous Dark Lord's in quantity and quality. Now that their freedom was at stake, men and elves united to fight the New Order, as the invasion had been dubbed. The shout of Rohan's current king, Addredoc, broke the dull drone of hoof beats upon the grassy terrain. The army of several hundred mounted soldiers pressed on, their destination being the White City of Minas Tirith. After about an hour or so, the white gates came into view and the Horse Lords marveled at its size. The company skid to a sudden halt in front of the gates, swords and armor clanking noisily. Gondorian and Rivendell archers lined the top of the North and East walls, all stringing their bows in anticipation of the coming battle. The gates creaked open and the Rohirrim passed into the safety of the city, the soldiers dismounting until further instruction from their king. Addredoc dismounted and was greeted by Lady Arwen who was surprisingly dressed in the armor of Gondor as opposed to the green of Rivendell. She embraced the Horse Lord and smiled wearily "Welcome, Marshal of the Riddermark. It has been said that Wormtounge's army is one thousand strong. We have more able fighters than them, but the enemies are enhanced." The lady elf trailed off obviously worried. When Aragorn died, she had taken his place at the throne, much to her father's dismay. The young king nodded and stepped away from her. "We will stand and fight." he announced, "Too long have my forefathers run to Helms Deep and stuck their frightened heads in the mountain sand. I shall learn from their mistakes." The elven maiden smiled upon the man and stood, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. Addredoc returned the smile and moved back towards the Rohirrim, remounting his horse and putting the men into their positions.
All of a sudden, a yell erupted from the South Wall, the creaking and moaning of the gates opening sent everyone's heart thundering in their chests. Lord Elrond, Arwen and Addredoc all looked at each other and for a fleeting moment, terror was evident in their eyes. Addredoc quickly spurred his horse into a gallop toward the Southern Gates, his sword drawn and ready. As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with the front line of the Galadhrim Army. He backed his horse off the protesting Lorien elves and sat flabbergasted in front of the army. Celeborn, King of the Lorien elves, trotted his horse to the gawking man, smiling faintly. The elf's blue and silver armor shone in what little light there was, an approaching storm swallowing the sun. "We must move quickly. the Orcish army is no more than a league away and are moving at an unbelievevably fast rate." He explained to the man. Addredoc nodded and cantered back to the North Gate, his hopes deliriously high. The three armies at the helm were greeted by the powerful booming of several hundred horses making their way from the Southern end of Minas Tirith. Addredoc resumed his position at the front of the Rohirrim who stood deathly still behind the front gate, waiting to ambush. Celeborn sent his archers up with the Rivendell and Gondor archers atop the North Wall and set his cavalry behind the Horse Lords. Ominous black clouds rolled even further in, blanketing the sky with darkness and thunder sounded in the distance. The warriors were poised for battle long before the Berserker Army was sighted, moving at an unearthly speed. Arwen told her archers to remain hidden behind the stone shielding of the upper wall until given the signal to fire, Elrond and Celeborn telling the same to their archers. The Gondor cavalry was being provided with weapons and they fell in line behind the Galadhrim, the horses skirting around a bit with anxiety. Rain fell like alligator tears from the black void above them, soaking everything within a few moments. It felt like an eternity before the opposing army got within firing range, the Berserkers closing the gap between them quickly. In the moment before the first confrontation, the soldiers were hit with the painful realization that they may not make it back home. In an instant, all chaos was let loose. Arwen gave the signal and hundreds of archers stood and aimed at the first wave of enemies. Once the arrows found their mark the Uruks went insane, launching a very sketchy attack on the heavily armored fortress. The gates flew open and the Rohirrim shot out, followed by the Galadhrim and the Gondorians who were doing a great job of striking down the foes. Addredoc led the large group into the thick of the Uruk army, his horse rearing regally as he slashed down his foes. Blood and rainwater splashed upon the grass and against the city walls, creating a morbid mural on the stones. Ladders were constructed and the Uruks heaved them against the wall as the rest scrambled up the slippery wooden incline. The archers deftly eliminated most of the invaders, but some managed to evade the arrows aimed at them. Down on the battlefield, men and elves alike were falling rapidly, no match for their mutant enemies and their anguished cries mingled with the thunder of the storm. The Uruks had managed to infiltrate Minas Tirith and homes were burned along with everything else, sending civilians screaming from their safe houses. Celeborn acknowledged their current plight and called for a retreat, heading to the currently uninhabited North Watch Tower to regroup and think of new strategies. Addredoc followed suit and the rest of Galadhrim and Rohirrim took shelter in the tower as well. Addredoc trotted in last, bloody, wet and cold. His mount snorted and let it's head lag, seemingly representing everyone's physical state. He bolted the door and noted their rapidly diminishing numbers with a bitter half smile. Celeborn led his horse to the human king and he too counted the remaining warriors huddled in the tiny enclosure. The elf placed a hand on Addredoc's shoulder, looking quite un-elf like, disheveled and ragged "Do not give up hope, Addredoc, King of the Riddermark and Lord of the Horse People. The battle is not lost." With that, the two moved to a shattered window to watch the raging battle taking place outside. Arwen Evenstar, the light of her people stood upon the front wall, restringing her bow with fluid grace before notching an arrow and aiming it at an approaching Uruk. She pulled the string taught and released, the arrow flying through its target and moving on to strike down another enemy. Her Gondorian tunic was stained red beyond repair as she brought down another two invaders who were making their way up a recently erected ladder. She began barking orders at the archers under her command and saw her father struggling with Uruk problems of his own. Thinking quickly she aimed an arrow at one of her father's attackers, lining up the shot. Suddenly, a sharp, hot pain ripped through her back from right between her shoulder blades. There was a slicing noise and she felt herself falling, the ground rushing up at her. She heard her father's frantic shouts and a triumphant orcish grunt before her body made contact with the ground. Celeborn and Addredoc shot out from the Watch Tower with their armies close behind, taking the surrounding Uruks by surprise. The first group was slashed down with ease, plaguing the Rohirrim with only a few minor abrasions. Addredoc glanced towards the wall and inwardly winced as elves and men fell from the top to be smote upon the bloody grass below, their bodies quickly trampled. Orders shouted in Elvish, Orcish, and the Common Tongue blended with the thunder crashing overhead. It was the image of pure and unbridled havoc, leaving everyone reeling from its effects. Celeborn slashed and hacked his way through a large, violent group before looking to the west and visibly paling at the sight that greeted him. The elves under his command immediately halted their horses and began to murmur prayers in their language. Addredoc glanced in that direction and cursed colorfully, reigning in his horse sharply. He looked at their remaining numbers and shook his head, thoughts of retreat running rampant into his mind. More than ninety mountain trolls marched towards the city from out of the neighboring forest, their handlers being 100 more Uruk Berserkers armed with spiked maces. Without warning, Celeborn dug his heels into his mount's middle and took off at a full gallop towards the East Tower. The elf dismounted gracefully and sprinted into the tower and up the stairs, nearly slipping on the water. Thunder boomed as he reached the top and found what he was looking for. In the middle of the room sat the Horn of Gondor on an eloquent tapestry bearing Minas Tirith's White Tree. Celeborn ran to it and blew it as loud as possible, the bass sound reverberating in the air and he ran to a dusty window. Right on cue, a huge blue dragon erupted from within the trees of the forest the trolls traveled through and wheeled in the sky. The Berserkers went ballistic and nearly climbed over each other to find an adequate escape route.
The huge scaly creature dove downward and met the troop of troll's head on, the lightning illuminating the azure scales and making them shimmer.
Another bolt of lightning streaked dramatically across the sky as the massacre began in the legendary field. The armies watched in shock as the dragon demolished the trolls and their handlers before taking cover in the city from the creature. The beast finished with the trolls and moved on to the Uruks in the city, sending limbs and bones flying through the air. The warriors watched the murder and cheered with gusto, making sure to stay out of the dragon's path of destruction. Celeborn hopped back onto his horse and cantered to Addredoc, a smug grin on his beautiful elven features. "This is the second time you've surprised me today. when did you plan to inform me of the huge scaly fire-breather that was taking up refuge in the forest right next to us?" Addredoc's voice dripped with sarcasm and a sardonic smile played on his face. Rain dripped from the tips of both of their noses as they sit and watched the action. "Actually, she is a last resort. and she is only aiding us because she is in Gandalf's debt." Celeborn informed the man, and smiling at his confused expression "She? That flesh eater is female?" The elf laughed and nodded. "Indeed. and a mother as well. Gandalf saved her kits from a group of rouge Uruk Hai." He was cut off as they ducked to avoid a flying orc leg. They straightened and noticed that Elrond was apparently looking for something on the ground below the wall. Lord Elrond of Rivendell ran along the North Wall, looking at the bodies below and calling out her daughter's name repeatedly. He couldn't distinguish the elf maiden's body from the sea of corpses that lay below and called for help. Word traveled quickly and soon all of the Rivendell army and the Gondorian army were looking for their Lady Arwen's fallen body. Finally one of the Rivendell elves came across her and carried her lifeless form into the city for a proper burial. All of those who survived the battle made their way inside while still being pummeled by the driving rain. There was a small ceremony for the elven princess and the elves sang a lament in her honor before she was buried in the catacombs alongside King Aragorn. Lord Elrond was heartbroken, yet held no outward sign of his despair. The weather matched the overall mood and Addredoc took a casualty count, grimacing at the losses they experienced. Rain still fell with flourish when Elrond, Celeborn and Addredoc slipped out of Minas Tirith to think for a while. They stood under the archway, sheltered from the storm, and watched the dragon pick the Uruk bones that lay strewn across the field. The three remaining blood-covered leaders sat and watched the dragon, thoroughly exhausted. Addredoc removed his helmet and ran a gloved hand through his blonde hair, blood streaking his face. They sat like that for a long while, the dragon eventually taking her leave and flying toward the Misty Mountains and the rain slowing to a dull drizzle. A few hours later there was a break in the clouds, the jovial blue sky seeming to peek out and mock all that had just been part of the battle. Sunlight made its way to the White City of Minas Tirith and blood shone like liquid rubies splattered over everything. Eventually Addredoc stood, ignoring the pain in his protesting muscles. He looked toward the sky that the clouds had revealed and leaned against the huge arch. "Tomorrow is another day." he told his elven comrades. "Tomorrow."