Chapter 2
I found my family's temporary dwelling place easily enough still not caring one-ounce of things around me. I rushed past my mother who watched me with concern. I ran into my room and grabbed my sword from off the wall. It was an Elvin sword given to me by a friend who had left for the halls of his fathers back in Dol Amroth. I pulled it out of its sheath revealing the glimmering, glowing metal shaped to perfection.
My bow and quiver were next to come out from their hiding place. It was known that my father had forbidden me to carry such weapons but I could not follow such an order. I had to do what I knew to be right. My mother stood in the doorway as I looked over my weapons and the realization of what I was about to do hit me. I could die and my body would be left as carrion for the birds. No one would know me or think to look for me there. The thought was sobering but my determination won out.
"Lothiriel." My mother spoke soothingly wrapping me into an embrace.
"Do what you know it right my child." She whispered kissing my head like my father. I turned to her not knowing if it would be the last time.
"I love you mother." I replied seeing the glint of tears in her eyes. All of her loved ones were going to fight. My father, brothers and myself it must break her heart to have us go.
"Be safe." She spoke quietly hiding the cracking in her voice. I picked up my sword and bow.
"I will return mother. Do not fear for me but the orcs who taste my blade." I smiled once encouragingly and took my leave out the door.
"That is my daughter." I could hear the last words of my mother while I ran to the armory. I would make her and father proud. I would not have shame brought to my family. As I ran I could hear the slow dreaded beat of the Orc drums sounding in the distance. Time was running out for us. Gandalf passed me by riding Shadowfax and shouting orders. I assumed Denethor was too taken by grief for Faramir to care. Fitting that the only time he cares for Faramir is when he sees his body. The armory was crowded with men but they paid no attention to me, too occupied by running to their posts.
I ran through the rows of weapons of various kinds looking only for armor I could use. Luck was on my side when I found the last suit sitting and waiting for me to use.
I pulled it off its hooks and hid in the secrecy of a storage room to change. It was obviously too large for me but with a little adjusting it fit well enough. I tied my belt around my waist and strapped my quiver to my back. The drums were getting louder as well as the frantic calls of Gondor soldiers still rushing around preparing for war. Were the numbers of orcs so great as to cause such frightful disorder? I pulled my dark hair up and hid it within my helmet on my head. A small looking glass was able to tell me how I looked and if I would pass as a man. Part of me knew the men weren't going to be paying attention with a war going on but I had to make sure. Taking a piece of black cloth I used it to cover my nose and mouth so only my eyes could be seen. The time had come for me to fulfill my duty and help protect the innocence, the time had come for battle. I ran out with the other soldiers who were the last remaining to go to their posts. Down and through the now crowded and scared city we ran up to the wall to bombard the enemy with arrows and catapults. I looked around quickly for any sign of my brothers or father but saw none. Minas Tirith was a big city surely they were somewhere safe. I could only hope. The fighting already began and the effects of their own catapults were seen everywhere and the screams of the remaining women, children and elders could be heard even upon the wall.
"Fire!" Gandalf cried raising his staff in the air while the men prepared and released the catapults one after the other. Even with my father and Gandalf there was still confusion. I knew not where to go so I found myself taking a spot with the archers arming myself and beginning to rain my arrows upon the enemy. Their numbers were greater than anything I had ever seen or imagined before. It would be a miracle if we survived the night even with they defenses Minas Tirith is armed with. My eyes widened at the sight of the orcs before me.
"Courage now." I told myself pulling out my bow and loading it with an arrow.
"Archers! Fire!" Gandalf ordered running back and forth on Shadowfax. We all let loose our arrows knowing there was little chance of missing the enemy with their vast numbers before our eyes. I could feel the sweat on my forehead already and the sound of my heart beating in my chest loudly was all I could think on as I fired volley after volley of arrows sending an Orc to his death with each release. Trolls were pushing war machines to the wall slowly and the frantic chase to stop them began. The scared soldiers shot at the metal plated machine itself while smarter men attempted to shoot the trolls themselves finding it difficult to find the proper angle. Between myself and two others one troll went down thanks to the accuracy of our shots. The damage was dealt too late though, for one last push by the trolls companion the war machine hit the wall and the door opened releasing a new flood of mangled and horrid orcs swinging their blades to and fro.
"Kill them all!" Gandalf called out pulling out his sword and we all followed his example. I gripped mine tightly waiting for them to get closer. This was it, the moment of truth. Would I run? Was I going to die? I tried best not to think about death. I was 21 years old and according to my father I have not yet lived. That left me wondering what exactly was living? What was a life supposed to be like? Marrying and having 20 children? Not me. The cries of my fellow fighters brought my mind out of its daydream and with one last breath I jumped into the fray swinging with all the rage and hatred I had ever felt going with my sword. I thought of all my friends who had been put to rest by the orcs evil hands. I thought of all the scared children who would be eternally scarred from what they had seen. I thought of all the ruin and chaos that our lands had been turned into and the horror I felt watching them being burned to the ground. My blade cut down the orcs like a spoon through pudding. Anger is a powerful weapon if used in the proper way. The soldiers around me stared in aw as I chopped them down like no one else. I barely even thought of the evil faces in front of me as I ran them through or cut their heads from their bodies. All I knew is that they needed to die and I would make sure that it would happen. I fought hard and fierce but the numbers increased with each addition of a war machine.
"Back to the wall!" Gandalf called out and we all started to retreat further into the city. I watched as one after the other of my brethren fell never to see the light of day again.
Suddenly from above a shrill cry echoed over Minas Tirith and it was everything within my power to keep from screaming and holding my ears. The sound was deafening and my mind felt as if it might explode.
"Nazgul!" I heard some of the men cry. My vision blurred by the noise but I scanned the sky and low and behold three Nazgul descended upon us and started to attack whoever they could. I ran quickly even though my lungs burned with the extent of my battle. I grabbed a spear from a fallen soldier and bound up to the top of the wall again awaiting another Nazgul to attack. The damage they did was beyond horrific. They needed to be stopped. I climbed as high as I could and took a position as one dove down ready to strike more soldiers.
"Just a little closer." I whispered waiting for the proper moment to throw my spear. Another loud cry hit our ears as the ravenous claws of the Nazgul extended groping for any poor soul to devour. As soon as I could I stood and flung the spear with all of my might. I did not expect to do damage only to scare it off. My skill with a spear left much to be desired but I had to try. To my astonishment it hit. Not only did it hit the Nazgul but it hit it in the eye leaving the creature to shriek in pain and topple down with its Ringwraith rider to the ground squishing some orcs on the outside as they attempted to break down the great door. I could only manage a small ounce of joy because there was more to do.
"You there!" I heard Gandalf's old voice call. My head shot to him and sure enough he was pointing to me. I made my way to him chopping down any orc in my path.
"Yes Gandalf?" I asked not even bothering to hide my voice. His old eyes lit with humor for a split second.
"Lothiriel. I should have known. Go my child. To the gate!" He called leading the way and a quick smile played across my mouth as I followed. The city was on the verge of ruin. Bodies littered the streets both man and orc. The door was already guarded by many warriors but nonetheless Gandalf wanted more.
"They cannot possibly get through." I spoke to Gandalf more hoping than stating.
"They brought the Wolf's bane." Gandalf replied and before I could ask what he meant a loud crack sent part of the door flying off in splinters. I was more than a little fearful to see the huge wolf shaped flaming head pound its way through the door again.
"You are warriors of Gondor. No matter what comes through that door you will hold your ground." Gandalf raised his staff once again and we all prepared ourselves. With one last sickening thud the door was flung open and three oversized trolls entered swinging their maces with deadly force. I brought out my bow again and released as many arrows as I could at the creatures' heads mine and a few other's actions only made the trolls angrier. We had no choice but to retreat again and try at the next door. Where was father? Where were my brothers? All that remained ran back and took shelter behind another door leading into the city.
"Bar it!" Gandalf ordered and we all grabbed what we could to brace it. Out of however many men we had all I could see now were not more than 500. Our numbers had decreased drastically and I could tell by the look on their faces that they knew we all were as good as dead. My back was pressed to the gate while the trolls pounded it again and again. My chest was tight and I could barely find my breath. My arms were sore already and wounds I had received stung with the foulness of the orc blade. This was it. My life would end here. I knew I had fought as hard as I could and I had done my duty for my people. I could think of no better way to leave this world. Looking up into the sky I prepared for death that was just beyond the door. Out of nowhere I heard a horn. It was no ordinary horn however; it was the horn of Rohan. They had come to our aid at last. There still was a chance for life.
