Everyones paths meet at Minas Tirith, soon the battle shall reach its high point, who will survive, and whos lives will be changed. Enjoy :)
Rohirrim Camp
Merry glanced around the camp, the Rohan riders were packing up for the full ride to Minas Tirith, however the king had ordered him to remain behind.
"Hobbits do not belong in war master Meriadoc," he had said, the words still stung as he remembered them.
"All my friends have gone to battle, I would be ashamed to be left behind," the young hobbit replied.
"It is a three day gallop to Minas Tirith and none of my riders can bear you as a burden, I will say no more," and then he had ridden off, leaving Merry with a pony that could never keep up with the war steeds of the rohirrim.
As he stood there in his sadness a pair of war steeds pulled up on either side of him.
Both soldiers were clad in heavy armor, their faces concealed by mighty helms.
"We can take you master hobbit," came the first soldier. "You are little burden to us."
The first soldier was Dernhelm, the other was Macbeth. Compared to the other rohirrim they were quite light, and they could take turns side saddling with the young hobbit to permit their steeds to rest.
"Are you sure that you can?" Merry said hesitantly. "I want to fight, but not at the expense of others.
Macbeth gazed upon the hobbit, his blue eyes meeting with Merry's. "You wish to fight to protect those you love, as do we all. Now get on the horse or you shall be left!"
Merry hastily conceded, hopping upon the horse, sitting in front of Macbeth as he reared the horse to follow the army.
Merry noticed that Dernhelm and Macbeth were greatly prepared for battle, each of them wearing heavy armor covering their whole bodies.
I hope I can trust these two.He thought, as the three of them rushed to rejoin the mass of horses and men riding towards Gondor, and war.
Clark's POV
We carried Faramir's body towards the main hall, taking him to the houses of healing just beyond. As we neared the top Denethor, having heard the news came rushing out of the citadel.
"Faramir!" He shouted, falling upon his knees before Faramir. "Say not that he has fallen."
A knight stepped forward; he was Beregond, guard of the citadel and recent friend to Peregrin Took (Another character the movie forgot). "They were outnumbered at Osgiliath milord, few returned."
"He is not dead milord," Alex replied, his voice full of anger towards Denethor's decision to fight in an unwinable situation. "He needs aid."
Unfortunately for us Denethor was blind with grief, seeming to not even have heard us he staggered towards the edge of the cliff where the citadel stood.
"My sons are spent, my line has ended!"
"He just needs medicine my lord," Reuel said, though Denethor continued to rant.
"My line has ended! The house of stewards has failed."
As he neared the edge he gazed over it, at the fields of Pelennor.
The once green fields were now black, not burned but covered with orcs; their vast numbers made it appear as if Pelennor had been swallowed by a black ocean, turning their sights on Minas Tirith.
"The end is nigh," Denethor whispered, his voice quivering as he spoke. "Abandon your posts!" He shouted so loudly that the guards upon the walls could hear him. "Flee! Flee for your lives!"
As Denethor turned to return to the citadel Gandalf's staff struck him in the nose. He could see Gandalf's face, gazing upon Denethor as a parent would at a child who had disappointed them. A second strike forced Denethor onto his knees.
I walked up to Denethor, landing a good right fist across his face; he fell to the ground, out cold.
"Anyone got a problem with that?" I asked, turning to the citadel guards.
Beregond, Reuel, and all the guards simultaneously shook their heads vigorously.
"Prepare for battle!" Gandalf shouted, the guards immediately began to form up, taking positions along the walls.
The orcs before the wall had brought many machines of war with them from Mordor. They launched dozens of catapults at the city, some crashing through walls while others blew through ranks of men, knocking them from the walls.
"Bloody unsporting of them to bring such devices of death," Reuel commented. "Too fearful of our walls to face us in honest combat."
The ringwraiths were amongst the city, flying atop their wicked fel beasts. The witch king led the aerial assault while Gothmog oversaw the ground troops.
Under Gandalf and Alex's supervision the catapults of Minas Tirith were turned against the army, dropping boulders the size of small houses atop their troops. Reuel rallied the troops inside the city to prepare to repel invaders. Unfortunately Mordor's forces were so great that even rocks of such size barely diminished their numbers.
As Gandalf oversaw the catapults Alex and I rushed to the main wall, just in time to see the siege towers.
As high as the wall they were, being pushed by a dozen trolls each, they were large enough to hold hundreds of orcs in each one.
Drawing my bow I loosed several waves of arrows alongside the gondorian archers, slaying several trolls.
Despite our efforts several towers reached the walls, unleashing their dark payload as the orcs scurried from them, seeking to overrun us..
I leapt into the fray, joining the soldiers upon the wall, attempting to push back the towers.
In a matter of minutes I was covered in orc blood, decapitating one, quickly spinning about to deal with another who had snuck up behind me, recovering I swung behind me again.
My sword clashed with another, it was Alex, so caught up in battle we had not realized it was each other.
His winged helm was gone, scratches and bruises covered his face, his armor was dented, however his azure blade shone as brightly as ever.
"As long as we hold this wall the city shall stand!" Alex shouted. "They cannot pierce the gate with their primitive rams!"
As the battle continued about us I could hear a cry being shouted upon the wind, it was coming from the orcs army.
"What are they saying?" I leaned over the wall, attempting to hear better.
"Grond, Grond, Grond, Grond," was being chanted over and over by the orcs, as the sun fell into the distance behind the mountains.
"O crud."
Derek/Dunedan's POV
Our company stood upon the embankment, staring out across the river, thirty plus ships could be seen over the horizon. Their holds were bursting with troops, men answering Mordor's call, burning the southern gondorian towns as they sailed, on their way to Minas Tirith.
As the ships sailed past us Aragorn stood before them, holding out his hand as if to stop them. (Homage to the statues along the Anduin River)
"You shall not enter Gondor!" He shouted, the troops aboard the corsairs gazed out at him, before bursting into laughter.
"Who are you to deny our passage?" Shouted a rather hefty mercenary standing upon the bow of the lead ship. "We serve the dark lord and none but he can deny us our prize of the white city."
"Legolas," Aragorn started. "Fire a warning shot past the bowman's ear."
"Mind your aim Legolas," Gimli and I said simultaneously, I pretended not to notice as Gimli ever so gently nudged Legolas's bow as he fired.
The shot went lower than Legolas had planned, burying itself in the hefty bowman's chest, he screamed in overly dramatic fashion as he collapsed onto the deck.
Legolas gave Gimli a look of intense annoyance as Gimli attempted to act completely surprised.
"O! Will you look at that?" Gimli replied. "We warned ya, prepare to be boarded."
Please say it please say it please say it! I chanted to myself as I gazed out upon the ships.
"Boarded? By you and what army?"
I smiled inwardly as he said it.
"This army," Aragorn whispered, snapping his fingers.
A massive wave of green vapor poured from the mountainside behind us, molding into the shape of thousands of men as they came.
The crew aboard the corsairs looked upon the terrible army with fear, many jumping overboard and drowning, the few that did not were engulfed by the wrath of the dead.
As the last few of the mercenaries abandoned their ships Aragorn and our company hopped aboard the lead ship, the king of the dead followed.
"We have fought for you my king," the king said to me, bowing. "Is it sufficient?"
"We could use your strength in the battle to come," I said, smiling at the king's ghostly form. "But a deal is a deal, and I release you to whatever afterlife you wish."
The king smiled at me as he and his army was swept away into the wind, never to be seen again in Middle earth again.
"With these we can sail the remainder of the way to Gondor!" Aragorn announced.
"But Aragorn," I started. "We only have thirty three people. How can we commandeer thirty ships with so few? And what hope can we bring Gondor?"
Aragorn glanced around, gazing upon the countryside, it was pocketed with several large southern gondorian villages.
"Dunedan!" He shouted. "Take command of this vessel, I have an idea."
What is Aragorn's plan? The Great Battle has begun, as the friends and foes converge on the white city what will be the outcome? Don't forget to review, I need to know if my writings as good as when I started. I am happy to announce the 2000th view of this story, hats off to all my loyal readers :)