XI.
The Second Son

It hadn't taken Faramir long to decide he much preferred the company of the younger Lannister brother. In spite of the little man's sometimes… unsavory tastes Faramir had come to appreciate his wit and informal attitude for one born so high. Once word had reached him that Tyrion was supposed to travel to Mordor with the Umbari party he and Gandalf had beseeched Lord Tywin to send Tyrion with them instead and perhaps send a lesser servant to Mordor, but the Old Lion had refused. "I cannot honor Gondor with the presence of the Lannister family while dishonoring Mordor with it's absence" he'd said. Faramir sighed, instead he now traveled with Jaime Lannister, a man who reminded him of Boromir without the bits of wisdom and modesty that made his brother bearable on his worst days.

They were traveling together now through the rolling green hills of Western Gondor. Gandalf had raced ahead on his own steed, apologizing but saying he had "urgent business." Jaime's father had sent twenty of the Redcloaks, the personal guards of House Lannister, led by a knight named Adam Marbrand. Faramir had not spoken with him at length but found him and most of the Lannister men agreeable enough.

"Perhaps once we've arrived in Minas Tirith Marbrand and I will show you how to properly joust," the object of his thoughts said, "I find it shocking that a captain in the army of a nation like Gondor cannot fight from horseback like a true knight,"

Faramir shrugged, "we rarely fight the armies of Mordor on open plains in Ithilien. Imrahil, prince of Dol Amroth, is said to be skilled with the lance, as are his knights."

Jaime suddenly was intrigued, he knew enough of the route to know they would be passing by Dol Amroth soon enough, "I see, and does this prince Imrahil joust?"

"I have never heard such," Faramir responded, "the knights of Gondor have been at war for some years now and there are few with the time and wealth to host grand tournaments like this King Robert you speak of." His thoughts darkened suddenly, "In any case our enemies rarely come against us on horseback so we focus our efforts on countering other threats."

Jaime raised an eyebrow, "Surely any force that comes against mounted men with none of their own will be cut to pieces… what does Mordor bring to counter your knights?"

Faramir thought a moment, how to explain a troll or an Oliphaunt to one who had never seen them? He decided to start with what the Westerman would understand, "Forgive me for misrepresenting our foes… they do sometimes come mounted, though without the skill that the Rohirrim or your Westermen display. The Wainriders of old came in chariots, and today the Variags know the stirrup."

Jaime seemed to consider this, "and the lance? Do these Variags practice it?"

"No" Faramir said, "they normally fight as horse archers, striking at us and then falling back. My rangers have greater reach than they, though they seldom come so far west anymore."

Jaime smiled, "so my father spoke true, your men are superior warriors to Mordor's."

Faramir nodded but did not return the smile, "indeed we are, but the enemy outnumbers us greatly, and more than men serve him."

Now Jaime laughed, "I suppose the Grumpkins and Snarks are in his employ too?"

Faramir did not return the laugh, "I know nothing of Grumpkins and Snarks, but the Orcs are quite real, they are a horrid deformed race, nearly animals in their demeanor and more savage than such on the battlefield."

Jamie frowned, "surely you exaggerate…"

Faramir shook his head, "no, they are not men in any sense, they are said to be long lived… but I have rarely encountered the same one twice."

Jaime was interested now, "and in the art of war, how do they fare against your men?"

Faramir's teeth bared, for he hated the Orc and all it stood for, "If you must know Jaime Lannister the orc is not a threat except for it's numbers. They are a foul and wretched race. Orcs are small to start with, greedy and cruel. The Uruks, their officers, are bigger, nearly as tall as men, but still cowardly." He smiled viciously, and he could tell that it put the Lannister envoy off guard, "the only good I will say of them is that they break easier than men do."

Jaime was taken aback by the hatred in Faramir's voice, but still he asked, "and what about these trolls I've heard so much of? What role do they play?"

Faramir's grin faded, "they are large creatures, perhaps twice as tall as even the tallest man."

"surely you've met Gregor Clegane-" Jaime interrupted

"Aye, even him." Faramir cut Jaime off, "A troll is a fel creature of the enemy… I have spoken with your brother, the imp-"

"He doesn't like that name," Jaime protested.

Faramir chuckled, "fair enough, I've come to appreciate your brother's thoughts and wit, but from what he tells me the men of the Westerlands have never faced a troll. They are great creatures in the shape of men, with stony hides fit to bend lances. They must be slain with swords or arrows."

Jaime was taking him seriously now, "I see… and how many of them have you slain?"

Faramir thought for a moment, "Three, two cave trolls who were smaller than most and one of the Hill Trolls of the far north, those who do not fear the sun."

Suddenly Jaime's mirth returned, "They fear the sun? Like the- "

"Yes," Faramir replied, deadly serious. "They feel pain in the sunlight, the lesser ones will outright turn to stone. For this reason they mostly come at night... mostly"

Jaime was shocked, "You're serious, you've truly fought these things."

Faramir was grim, "they are more common in the Misty Mountains and to the North, but I fear the enemy may be breeding them for war."

The conversation was interrupted by a horn blown from one of the rangers that had ridden ahead, Faramir's blood froze, an attack? Here? How? The horn continued to blow more panicked now, then it was suddenly cut off.

Jaime was looking at him quizzically, "what was that-"

"There is a force approaching, their intentions are hostile," Faramir replied

Suddenly Jaime was serious, "How many?"

The question was answered by the approach of Adam Marbrand, who had his sword drawn already and was barking orders as he rode towards them. "Ser Jaime, Lord Faramir, the rangers indicate there is a force of over one hundred men bearing on us from the South."

"I don't suppose there's any chance it's a welcoming party from Dol Amroth?" Jaime asked, "it would be simply rude to greet them with an arrow volley."

Marbrand shook his head, "they are all armed and armored, we'll form up on that hill" he gestured to a large grassy knoll that surged slightly higher than the rest, "we'll be able to see them from there."

As they rode to the top Jaime remarked, "bandits most likely, they'll take one look at our party and find a softer mark." One of the men rode past them bearing the golden lion on a red field, "Raise the standard high" Jaime yelled, "Let these highwaymen know who they're dealing with."

They reached the top of the hill in short order and Faramir could see the approaching group now, he paled. They were no bandits, the group was a mixture of mostly orcs and what looked to be a few men of Umbar. Impossible, he thought, there are no orcs in this part of Middle Earth… Then suddenly it hit him, They come from the south… the sea, they have been delivered here by the Corsairs.

"They're after you," he said turning to Jaime, "if we act quickly my rangers can draw them into battle while you escape."

Jaime was fastening a helm to his golden armor now, "After me?" he looked at the host descending upon them, they had been seen and he could hear a terrible half roar and half cheer go up amongst the rabble. "Surely they know that we will respond to this-"

"No, you misunderstand, they would have fallen upon us and butchered us to the last man. To your father it would appear as though you simply went missing in Gondor with no witnesses to tell of this. You must escape!"

Jaime realized the implication and snarled, "Oh I will ride out of here today, but not without you." He unsheathed his sword, "Form up on me, men of house Lannister!" a cheer went up from the men at arms as they gathered in formation. Jaime turned again to Faramir, "you and your rangers hit them with a few volleys, once they're disoriented we'll charge them and you can follow us in."

Lances were being distributed now from the supply wagon that had followed them. Faramir looked at the men and nodded, "rangers of Ithilien!" he shouted, "prepare to volley!" a cheer went up from his own men to rival that of Jaime's and soon arrows were knocked and pointed skyward. "Loose!" Faramir cried and with a *whoosh* the first volley found it's mark.

Many in the enemy host fell and a roar of anger came from them, here and there black crusted arrows flew their way, the closest one glancing off of Jaime's shoulder revealing plain steel underneath the gold. He looked at the scratch and sighed angrily, "Faramir, give them another and then we'll do this."

He nodded, they were drawing close now and would soon be at an ideal distance for the charge. "LOOSE!" he shouted again.

Watching the arrows arc into the foe Jaime shouted, "FOR HOUSE LANNISTER! CHARGE!" the men shouted with him and a chant went up as the horses galloped down the hill

Jaime
Jaime
JAIME!

Faramir slung his bow across his back and drew his sword, "For Gondor! After them!" The rangers drew their own swords and followed him. As the charge sped towards the orcs a more organized volley of arrows fired at the approaching knights, with dismay Faramir saw two of the Westermen fall, though Jaime in his golden armor still led them.

With a great crashing noise of splintering bone and clanging metal the horses thundered into the first rank of orcs. Whatever semblance of a formation they'd had was now broken. The horses continued through and came around for another pass, one of the men began shouting in the black speech and spears and other long implements were gathered in one part of the mob to counter this.

By now Faramir and his rangers had reached the horde and in tight formation they fought together, not allowing any of their number to be surrounded. Suddenly some of the orcs, frenzied with fright, broke away from the main group. If they go free they'll murder some poor farmer's family, he thought. "Jaime!" he shouted, even above the din of battle the golden armored Lannister turned his head towards the call. He pointed to the fleeing orcs, "don't let any of them escape!" The golden knight nodded and led his cavalry to run down the fleeing orcs.

By now the remaining men driving the orcs forward had led them to a point where they were close to overwhelming the rangers. Faramir was almost completely on the defensive, blocking blows left and right without having a chance to attack at all. The snarling orcs dragged one ranger into the mob and Faramir heard a scream.

One large Uruk, with black skin and a stench somehow worse than the others, lept into Faramir with a roar and unleashed a series of blows with the mace he carried. Another orc rushed at him from his right with a cruel curved blade. Just when he thought there was no way to counter them both a blade appeared severing the Uruk's arm at the elbow, the creature looked down dumfounded and then in another flash of the blade the beast's head was gone too.

Faramir quickly stabbed the other onrushing orc through the heart and turned to see Jaime Lannister standing there, on foot now, and ten of the redcloaks dismounted with him.

"Seven hells Faramir, what are these fucking things?" He said with disgust, looking at the black blood on his blade.

"Orcs," Faramir replied, wiping some of the foul muck from his own clothing. Looking at the field he could see the redcloaks were supporting his rangers now, who were falling behind the more armored men. One of the Westerosi screamed as another Uruk rushed at him and bit at an exposed part of his neck. Jaime Lannister slammed his helm down and waded back into the fight.

"Come on men, they're wild to be sure, but they die like any man does," Jaime shouted.

Faramir followed him, by now there were perhaps two dozen orcs left, sensing their imminent defeat they began to break entirely. With a shout the assembled men of Gondor and the Westerlands surged forward, cutting them down left and right. Faramir made as if to join them but Jaime put a hand on his shoulder, "don't bother, Marbrand and some of the men stayed mounted to pick off the stragglers." True to his words six knights rode forth and cut down the few who managed to flee from the footmen.

Faramir looked around doing a quick headcount, "we've lost six men, what of your knights?"

Jaime looked at his own men, "four dead, and one man who might not survive, he took a spear through the shoulder."

Faramir frowned, "have one of my men treat the wound, the orcs often poison their weapons but we have many remedies for it."

Jaime nodded, "I'll see to it then…" he looked around surveying the battlefield and smiled suddenly, "well I don't think we've done too bad for ourselves, more than twice our number attacked and we've slain them to the man… or the orc I suppose, with less than a dozen casualties."

Faramir didn't share his optimism, "Sauron always has more orcs, and one hundred to forty is not the worst odds the men of Gondor have seen."

Jaime's smile faded, "Truly? How in the seven hells have you survived?"

"I do not know myself Jaime Lannister," he replied. If things don't change soon we won't for much longer, Faramir thought to himself.