In the shadow of the mountain we wait for the dawn. Many here are restless, filled with fear of the day to come. Gone are the familiar surroundings of home, and as dusk falls our minds turn away from our memories of ones safe at home and towards the day ahead. I wonder about and doubt my reasons to ride. Why do I fight? Am I off to fight for duty, honour, and glory, or for the protection of my home and ideals? Am I taking the easy way out for my guilt or am I being selfless? These thoughts float in my mind as I seek rest. For in a few hours we ride. Yet as I slowly drift to the land of dreams I could not help but fear the bloodshed that is to come. It will not be the first battle which I have fought nor will it be the last. Yet each time we fight comrades are lost, slain brutally before our eyes. If I must die on the battle field I would rather it come quickly and painlessly. The sorrowful moans and cries of pain reach my ears as my companions slowly languish to their deaths. They suffer from wounds which no healers could heal. These cries will forever follow us long after the war has been won. Dawn will soon be here and whether we are ready for death or not, we must ride to face it.
The sky lightens as dawn approaches. All around camp the soldiers don their armour and ready their horses. At last the horn has sounded and we ride for war. The pace is brisk for there is no time to lose. Our thoughts are no longer our own. In many ways this is the easiest part of every battle, as the wind whips our hair behind us and all thoughts of battle and blood have fled us. Horse and master become one as we gallop towards our doom. Yet it is also the hardest part. Once on the battlefield all the elements are known, one can be prepared as to how the fight will go and who will have the higher ground. As we get closer to Gondor, thoughts of doubt again seep into our minds. The enemies we face are known to us, but what other allies Sauron has are not. All those whom have been on patrol before know the Orcs and their blades. Our only fear is the monster rumoured to be created by Sarumon - one with the height of three men and strength enough to move entire siege towers.
At last we are before the Palennor field. Ahead is the White city of Gondor, besieged by orcs and trolls. The order is given and we form up into three flanks, the left and right each being 60 horses wide and 25 deep and the main flank being 120 wide and 25 deep. As our eyes focus to the battle we know we are outnumbered. Our battle cry went up and finally the sound of horns rang over the open field and the charge began. With our spears in our hands we charge, fearing nothing. Arrows pierce our flesh, trying to bring us down with each new onslaught. The mass composed of horse and rider is unstoppable now; no pike can withstand the charge of the Rohirrum. This is what we train for, this is how we fight. As the cry of charge is heard we see fear in the eyes of the Orcs. As we break like a wave upon their archers and pikes, they turn and flee as more of their kind are run down. We no longer think - merely act - as the sound of blood thunders in our ears. Soon our work is done as we drive them towards the river. Cries of "Make safe the city!" are heard and at last it's time to rest.
As we turn, fear creeps into our hearts. Before us are beasts many times our size with archers in platforms on their backs and spikes on their tusks. The horn sounds yet again and we charge. Their tusks are swept side to side taking down many of our riders. Others fall beneath their feet, getting crushed as they stomp across the plain. Now there is true chaos - we ride between their legs, slashing with our swords and shooting at their underbellies. Spears aim at their heads, quickly flying from our hands and through the air, hoping for a fatal blow. Some time during the chaos of the battle, we hear a rallying cry from our king. Then the Nazgul comes, tossing our king and his horse between its teeth. We have no choice but to leave them to their fate with the witch king and charge towards the remaining beast and Orcs. As ships sail in from the river, we fear they are re-enforcements for Sauron. Luckily, these new soldiers were on our side, and the grisly task of killing off the enemy was soon finished. The battle has been won but not without a price. Our king is dead as are many of our best warriors. Those that have not been killed or seriously injured now have the task of putting these brave men to rest, for good. Our mounts are exhausted and we are at the end of our tether. Though the battle has been won, the fate of the war remains undecided.
Author's notes: Thanks to my friend Kelsey who encouraged me to write a fanfic and later beta this for me. All review are welcome they help me improve. Also thanks to the many writers out there who dedicate their time to writing for our enjoyment.