Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 2: The March Begins

Like his father, Thaundil quickly learned to hate the wake-up whistle. He also understood now why Ereg seldom spoke of his work. The life in the army certainly was interesting sometimes, but not in a pleasant way. He found, however, that he enjoyed handling the horses. He never became an excellent rider, but after a few months he was decent enough. At least once a week the squadron made a day-long riding march to accustom the men quickly to their steeds. At first Thaundil hated these marches, because he had joined in winter. The raw wind and rain were biting, and he felt miserable, while swaying tiredly in his saddle or huddling inside his cloak in breaks.

But when the spring came, his mind changed. When Sulimë came and the sun began to warm, he even eagerly awaited the marches. It was very pleasant to get out of the garrison and feel fresh spring-air on his face. Sometimes they rode on the road leading towards Minas Tirith, only returning in the evening. At other times, they let their horses to gallop over open fields on the banks of the Anduin. Thaundil had got a good steed, a black mare who was nimble and could run long before it tired. The young man kept very good care of it.

When in the garrison, they had various exercises, on horseback or on foot. One of the most usual was to ride in full gallop towards a bunch of twigs and cleave it in half with the sword. It wasn't so easy as one would have thought, and many troopers fell to the ground before they learned the trick. Thaundil got his ample share of bruises, but wasn't luckily hurt badly even once. The other exercise during which falling was a threat was spearing straw dolls from horseback. One had to do it properly, so that the spear didn't stuck. Besides the cavalry training, they were instructed in the basics of infantry fighting. There was only one hour in every two weeks, so it wasn't very complete, but Thaundil felt more sure nonetheless. After all, one could never know when one would become unhorsed.

Thaundil had luck, because his superiors were quite decent men. Their captain Orodil was a silent, stocky man who never raised his voice if not necessary. Lieutenant Nimthir, Thaundil's platoon commander, was more lively, a humorous little man, who laughed more often than rebuked. He was the favourite of the whole squadron, because despite his easy ways he managed to train the men efficiently. Thaundil's patrol commander ensign Ruinion was surly and quick to punish every infringement of rules, but even he seldom bullied the men needlessly. By and large, Thaundil wasn't unhappy if not very delighted by his new life.

At the first week Thaundil had tried to obtain an assignment to the equipment storage, because his uncle Nárion ran it. He had no luck, however. Nárion only shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, lad, but I can't arrange it. I have two helpers already. They are so good in their job that I can't kick either of them out. Besides, you have such an easy time in cavalry."

Thaundil didn't agree, but there was nothing to be done. He comforted himself with the thought that it would be more manly to be in all exercises instead of sauntering in the storage. Somehow the thought wasn't much of a solace, however.

--

The strangest thing to Thaundil was that he was actually feeling closer to his family now. He saw his father many times a day and they usually managed to exchange a word or two. He had only Wednesday evenings and Sundays off, so he enjoyed being with his mother and siblings on those occasions more than ever. Doronir, for example, had previously seemed niggardly and surly to him, but now he saw that he was only careful and thoughtful. Dilthwen's constant chattering had often irritated him before, but now he listened with pleasure her little jokes and quick conversation.

When the first Sunday of Nárië came, Riliel and Ereg suggested to Thaundil that they would take a walk after the noon-meal. They went to the southern part of the city, by the banks of Anduin. There Riliel stopped in a public garden before a worn stone bench. She sat on it and said to Thaundil:

"This is the place where I first realized I loved your father, almost exactly thirty years ago. He was so young, so shy." She sighed, smiling and gazed over the River.

"He was only twenty. I was quite moved by that he had hurt his knee, but still came to take me for a walk as he had promised. I hesitated about my feelings because of his youth, but when we sat here, and he took my hand, I knew. I have never regretted that decision."

Her eyes wandered again to the flowing water, Thaundil and Ereg being silent. The young man tried to imagine his parents here so long ago. It was quite hard, though, because both of them now had much grey in their hair. After a while Ereg broke the silence, sitting beside his wife.

"I remember it like yesterday. Riliel, do you recall how I couldn't say a word to you? You looked so beautiful that I thought I couldn't ever be worthy to even touch you. And it was you who first kissed me, for I dared not."

The old couple smiled in their memories, and Thaundil didn't say anything. He realized once more how much his parents cared for each other. Ereg rose soon and said to his son:

"We yearly come here to recall those days. We have been here with Dilthwen and Doronir a few years ago, and now we thought we could take you with us. It was a fine day for a walk anyway, and we wanted to tell the story to you." Thaundil asked:

"It was very kind of you, but why now?"

"It may be that we are soon separated for ever. The war is again coming, and we may be sent there. I wanted you to know our full tale before it. Besides, if I fall, I want you to remember both your parents here, happy for maybe the last time."

Thaundil was moved, but Ereg only smiled and went on:

"This was also the place where I met your sister for the first time. She was quite startled and Nárion was very embarrassed when I suddenly appeared. Your uncle had let me and our other comrades to believe he had a woman somewhere. I at first thought Dilthwen was his daughter."

Thaundil laughed at the thought and they all started towards home, the birds singing over them in the trees.

--

The war didn't start very soon, however. It was only in an early morning in next Nárvinyë when ensign Ruinion ran to the quarters of Thaundil's patrol, holding a parchment in his hand. For once Ruinion seemed excited.

"Pack up, troopers! We are going to war. The march starts today at noon, so you have only a few hours."

After feverish packing and saddling of horses the whole squadron stood on the parade field, with the rest of the regiment. Cold winter wind blew and waved the banners and the cloaks of the soldiers. Thaundil was cold and wet in the dripping rain. The commander of the regiment stood before the men, reading from a parchment:

"We, Eärnil, King of Gondor, have decided to send aid to our brother kingdom of Arthedain in their hour of need and after several messages from King Arvedui. We have assigned our beloved son and heir Eärnur to command the navy and the forces sent to Arthedain. We expect that every soldier does his best in the oncoming battle and pray for the protection of the Valar. Given in Nárvinyë 6, in the year 1975 of the Third Age."

The colonel folded the parchment and continued:

"Soldiers! You heard the order of our beloved King! Arthedain will fall, if we don't help it. Remember that they are Dunedain also. The evil Witch-King of Angmar has sent his whole host against Arvedui. Our commands are to stop them. The regiment will march to Pelargir and sail from there to the north. Be strong, when your weapons are needed! Long live to our King!"

Two thousand mouths repeated the shout "Long live the King!" and the captains led their companies to barracks. Thaundil wasn't afraid, though it was now sure he would have to fight. His blood raced in his veins, and he guessed his father had once felt something similar. They took their packs and mounted the horses. Thaundil's best friend Hathelion, a tall but thin red-haired man, rode beside him. He smiled, showing his large teeth.

"Well, we are going to cleave some heads at last!"

"What's so cheerful in it?"

"Some real action at last! I joined the army to kill the evil guys, not some straw dolls."

Thaundil shook his head, grinning. Hathelion talked very much and one could not always say if he was serious or joking. But he had definitely been frustrated with the training and constant waiting. As he put it:

"Soldiers always wait for somebody to order them to go somewhere to wait for being ordered to wait some more."

Indeed, in the army things went sometimes very slowly on, only to be suddenly changed to feverish action. Only the day before they hadn't had the slightest hint about the march, save the usual rumours. Now they watched from horseback as the cart-drivers hauled loads of food, equipment and hay in their wagons, cursing profanely. After that was done, captain Orodil ordered them to move on. The banner of the squadron was unfurled and they rode out of the gate, icy rain still battering them.

--

They came to Pelargir five days later and had to wait the infantry battalions there for two days. Thaundil hoped they would soon be in the ships because sleeping in a draughty tent wasn't his favourite pastime. After the infantry had arrived, the regiment moved to the harbour of Pelargir. Thaundil recognized his father bellowing orders to some men-at-arms who looked at him sheepishly. The equipment and horses of the cavalry detachment was still being loaded in the ships, so Thaundil obtained leave to go to greet Ereg. His father was, however, so concentrated on his tasks, that when Thaundil approached him, he yelled angrily:

"Trooper, what the heck are you doing here? Do you see your bloody horses here? Your battalion is on the other side of the dock! You run there this moment or I'll kick you there!"

Then he recognized his son and blushed a little.

"Sorry, this whole march has been a bloody mess. I didn't recognize you at first, you troopers look all the same under your helms." He took his cap off and wiped some sweat away from his face.

"Fortunately my men are now in the ships, so I can chat a little." Then he suddenly turned his head and shouted:

"Nárion, are you ready with the equipment? Come here to greet your nephew!"

The small lieutenant walked with a limp to them. He shook hands with Thaundil and tapped the pavement with his cane. He asked with a wink:

"So, young hero, how do you feel about the coming adventure?"

"Oh, I am just a little nervous, but it will pass, I think," Thaundil answered. Nárion laughed:

"Just wait when the real crap begins, then you know what it is to be nervous! But I don't want to frighten you. Do your best and don't play any hero and you will be just fine." Then he grimaced and stooped to rub his knee. Thaundil was worried:

"Uncle, is it aching? How was your march?"

Nárion grunted and rose again:

"It aches always in these winter days. I was hauled here in a cart, but it rocked to and fro so much it is wonder my kneecap didn't drop off. Damn Easterlings, cowards to shoot from behind! Good that you paid them back, Ereg..."

When they spoke, Thaundil saw a fat man in a dress of a merchant staring at them. It seemed so strange that the young man interrupted his uncle's rant:

"Do you know that man? He stares at us quite stupidly."

The older men turned and suddenly shouted in joy:

"Manceleb!"

The fat man walked surprisingly fast to them and shook their hands, his face beaming with pleasure.

The three old friends were beside themselves with delight and constantly slapped each others' backs, laughing like schoolboys. Thaundil had not seen for years his father looking so young. Ereg recovered from surprise and introduced Thaundil:

"Manceleb, this is my son Thaundil. Thaundil, this is my old friend Manceleb. You have met once, but it was over ten years ago, I think."

Manceleb took Thaundil's hand in his huge paw and shook it heartily.

"Nice to meet you again! The last time you were only a stripling. So you are the son who joined the army. Ereg mentioned it in a letter to me a month ago."

Thaundil bowed politely and answered:

"I am pleased to meet, master Manceleb!"

Then he was ignored for some time, as the older men started to talk again. Nárion exclaimed:

"Why, Manceleb, you are now so wide that you could be a cargo ship yourself! It is truly a pleasure to see again, the last time was in the year sixty-nine, if I remember correctly." The other laughed good-naturedly:

"And you are so thin you should be a bird, especially as you hop like a magpie!"

Thaundil expected his uncle to become angry at this, but Nárion only smiled. Then Manceleb explained why he was there. He had rented three of his five ships to the navy and had came to see if the sailors could handle them. There was nothing to be feared, however. The sailors of the navy had been accustomed to even bigger ships.

"I make a huge profit out of this. The navy paid me for a year beforehand and more is promised if they need my ships longer."

The conversation was ended soon, when whistles were blown behind them, followed by a shout:

"Officers of the second battalion, on board!"

Ereg recognized the voice of his regiment commander and said to Thaundil:

"So, we will surely see again in Lindon. Have a good journey, if it's possible!"

They embraced briefly and Ereg hurried to the ship. After shaking hands with Nárion and Manceleb, he heard a clear horn-blow and a command:

"Light cavalry troopers, on board!"

He ran away and joined his squadron. Soon he had put his pack in a corner in the hold of the ship and rose to the deck again with the others. He saw the crowd who watched cheering, as the soldiers waved to them from decks. The ship glided further from the dock, and he waved and shouted good-byes to the people on the docks, no more nervous but almost waiting to get to their destination.

--

R&R, please.