Hour of Wolves
L. M. Masquerade
Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers.
The hoofbeats of horses, prancing with nervousness and anticipation. The heavy breath of the soldiers standing to either side. The hearts of seven thousands, beating in unison. The stench of fear fills the air. Whether from the enemy or the Men of the West, none can tell. The stench of fear, sweat, sorrow, determination, resignation. The eyes roaming across the barren, dark, dreadful land, terrible and yet beautiful in its destruction. The Tower of Barad-dûr, a sentinel watching with a morbid amusement. A frail, weak, reluctant army of only seven thousands. The hosts of Mordor laugh. Seven thousands up against Uruk-hai and Nazgûl and Fell Beasts. Against Haradhrim and Orcs. Against Sauron, Lord of Barad-dûr. The Shapeshifter. The lieutenant of Morgoth, of Melkor.
I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me.
Fear. Omnipresent and omnipotent. All-seeing, invincible. Sauron laughs at fear. Yet fear shakes him to the very core. He knows the Halfings have the Ring, he knows they near Orodruin, near Amon Amarth. He knows they near his destruction. Yet a vain hope lives within him, for if the armies of the Free Peoples are vanquished, the Halflings would yield, to save their friends and to save their fellowship. The Shapeshifter, Lord of Barad-dûr, of Lugbúrz, feels fear. And the fear nearly kills him. The Men of the West must suffer. They must feel the very fear that cripples the Lieutenant of Melkor. Little does he know that they already do.
A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day!
The Fellowship of the One Ring. Aragorn and Boromir. Legolas and Gimli. Merry and Pippin. Frodo and Sam. Gandalf, Mithrandir. Of the Nine that began, five stand before Morannon. Two struggle to Orodruin. One lies in Minas Tirith, looking the East. One lies in a boat, esteemed among mortal men, drifting through the sea, or perhaps having made its way to Valinor. Five remain, yet all are changed. For better or worse is not my story to tell. When Men fail, when vows mean nothing, when brother fights against brother in hatred, the world will fall to evil and all shall perish. But today, today Men stand tall and proud, strong and fierce. Today, they will fight to the end to fulfil their vows to protect Gondor, protect Rohan. Today they remember their families, and yearn to see them one last time. For today, Men shall be victorious and glorious.
An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!
The Age of Men cannot end, for it has not even begun. Today marks the end of the Era of Elves, of myths, of magic. Today marks the beginning of the Age of Men, of legends, of glory. Today is a new dawn. Today will have a red sunset, for though it stains red with blood, it is delight for the Men in Minas Tirith and Rohan. They will live to see the sunset, for the sunset marks all things golden, glorious, fantastic. The hour of sunset is an hour of magic, of might, of magnificence. They don't know that, those seven thousands standing before Morannan and Barad-dûr and Amon Amarth. They only know that they are outnumbered. But they will meet them in battle nonetheless.
By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!
The armies collide.
For Frodo.
AHHHHH~ I love y'all! This one's for you PAF's out there. I know, I know, I should be working on Adennin and The More the Mary-er, BUT I PROMISE YOU I AM. It's just... Christmas and relatives and cooking, oh my! I also got Lord of the Rings Trilogy: Extended Editions in Blu-Ray. Oooooh... Also, I got an Instagram! I'm nazgulnumber3, so... Yeah. :) Please review? You get a chocolate-covered elf, with no S&H! :D Pick your elf (must be from the Woodlbed Realm, Lothlorien, or Imladris. Manwë is refusing us access to the Elves in Valinor.)
Yours sincerely,
L. M. Masquerade