Strangers no More

I do not own the rights to Lord of the Rings

Chapter Thirty Four

The Second Battle of Poros

Our journey to the Crossings of Poros was a simple one. We left Minas Tirith and galloped south as fast as possible. On the way there we went through a few towns and villages on the way, even passing Bain Bloss where we saw that old battlefield. We spent the night in that town which was good news for Mathew as he was able to see his wife again. As we travelled we found a few hangers on joining our ranks including sell swords, landless knights and healers wanting to do some good. A few priests and their acolytes joined us on the way as well, led by a priest who had changed his name to Luke after converting. We met up with my uncles forces outside of Pelargir and then travelled across the Anduin to the mouth of the Poros. We then marched along the river to the Crossings.

We made camp a distance from the crossings near a fresh water spring while my uncle ordered a few dozen men to constantly guard the Crossings. Over the course of a few days large groups of refugees crossed the water. They were a mix of ordinary people, wounded and tired, with wealthy merchants and nobles carrying what little they still owned on their backs. Others were soldiers only wearing the lightest of mail of shirts and carrying their beaten, bloody swords over their shoulders. All of them told the same story, horsemen storming the villages, plaguing the roads while the castles and towns burned to ash. One morning, maybe a week after we arrived, I sat with my cousins and Mathew by one of the smaller fires as we ate a few pieces of bread and salted meat for breakfast, our daily rations. My uncle encouraged us knights to eat together to make sure we were close on and off the field of battle. I looked at some of the knights sitting together around our fire with my cousins and friend. There were a group of Gondorian converts, young men who had only just risen out of the level of squires. Few of them had ever seen a real battle before. There was a pair of old knights who had lost their lands thanks disinheritance. They were sell swords, looking forward to payment and their next meal. Then there was Argaloth, a disgraced warrior who had been thrown out of the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth in disgrace. He was a lean man, always on edge with a narrow face and dirty gray hair. Then there were us, the original members of the Order who had tasted victory before.

'Worst thing about fighting, well, the food tasted like a pigs arse,' joked Rickard.

'Aye,' agreed Argaloth. 'I remember, while you lot were sitting around in Rohan me and some others were following an Orc raiding party. All we had to eat was bread turning green.'

'That's nothing,' Mathew told him. 'When I was a boy me and my brother raided the local lords kitchen,' he laughed at the memory. 'We didn't realise what we nicked was meant for the pigs.'

At that we all laughed and I shook my head.

'With any luck this campaign will be over soon and we can go back to fresh fruit and cool wine,' I said to the others.

'Aye,' Argaloth said and looked at the salted meat in his weathered hand. 'I need some wine.'

Suddenly a horn blasted through the air and we all looked at each other, knowing what it meant. Suddenly everyone in the camp was rushing back to their tents to get their armour and weapons ready for battle. Soon, with the help of a squire, I was in my armour and I stepped out of my tent. I then rushed to the command tent to see my uncle where I saw most of the officers already there. My uncle stood at the head of the table wearing his full armour, a metal dome over the stump at his elbow, and hanging from his shoulders was a long emerald cloak, the same colour as his men's coats of plates.

'Our scouts have told us that the enemy is marching on us now,' my uncle told us. They'll be here in an hour, maybe two if we're lucky.'

'And what shall we do my lord?' asked one of the officers.

'We will fight them here,' my uncle said and pointed at a point on his map about halfway between our camp and the Crossings.

I looked down at that position and saw that it was in full sight of the Crossings, anyone moving across the river would clearly see us.

'Father if we moved our men up to the crossings we'd have the advantage,' Markus said to him.

'We will fight them here,' my uncle snapped at him and then he calmed his voice. 'The Haradrim will expect us to defend the river itself. If we stand there they'll just pepper us with arrows until our lines are so thin a mouse could break them. No, we'll invite them to attack us,' my uncle said and then took some ink and quickly sketched his planned formation of our army on the map where he wanted to fight and then quickly drew a square on the far side of the river representing the enemy before pulling a knife from his belt and planting it in the heart of the square, 'and then we'll destroy them.'

My uncle told us what our plan was in more detail and I liked what he said. It was a good plan which could be used to win the battle. I was given command of a hundred or so swordsmen who would fight in the front line. This was the formation we used. At the front of our position were archers armed with longbows, bucklers and daggers who wore sallet helms and each had a green coat of plates. They were trained in the same manner as the bowmen of England. Behind them was where I stood in the middle of the swordsmen's line. We were in tight formation and held our shields ready. On the left and right flanks were the spearmen. They were not directly facing the river like the swordsmen. Instead they were angled away from the river like the sides of an arrow. Rickard commanded the right hand line of spearmen and Sir Gofder commanded the left. My uncle was directly behind the line of swordsmen on his horse with a few body guards and behind him were the cavalry, under the command of Markus. They were in reserve for what my uncle called, "The smallest yet most important moment." Knowing that moment was the most important aspect of war. From where I was I looked at the backs of the archers in front of me and past their line of sharpened stakes to the river and the horde of horsemen preparing for battle on the other side of it. Three thousand of them were galloping around with their weapons raised, screaming praises to their chieftains and Morgoth. As they galloped around they were kicking up great clouds of hot dust and blowing horns to frighten us. Looking behind me into the ranks further from the front I saw the faces of some of my men. Their Sallet helmets did not have their visors lowered revealing the fear on their young faces. My uncle kept his men well trained but all the training in the world could not prepare you for the rush of emotions before a battle. Knowing that they needed some encouragement I gripped the handle of my sword and the familiar feeling of warmth spread up through my arm to my heart. Slowly I drew Alaric from his sheath and I smiled at the sight of the orange, flickering blade. I held the sword aloft and looked towards the enemy, knowing that the sight would inspire the men under my command.

'Quit showing off,' a voice said to me and I looked at Argaloth who was standing next to me with a shield in his hand painted with a crow and in his sword hand was an older weapon with a handle replaced several times.

'The men need some encouragement,' I reminded him but I lowered my sword, not putting it away.

'That's why the scarred ones are at the back. They don't need to get bloodied.'

'I expect them all to fight.'

'They will. Your uncle's good at inspiring loyalty I'll give him that.'

Speaking of which,' I said as I saw my uncle ride through the ranks to appear before his army. He cast his gaze over each of his soldiers and then spoke.

'Sons of Gondor, here we come to fight an old enemy again. You all know what sort of men these Haradrim are. They are barbarians, slaughterers of children and women. The king and his army are maybe a week away. If we lose here nothing stands before the Haradrim. You are charged with the defence of the realm and I expect you all to defend it for God is watching us! Make sure you do not offend him!'

At this we cheered him on as my uncle turned around to face the enemy who were preparing to cross the Poros at last. My uncle, carefully balanced on his disciplined horse, let go of the beast's reins, and held his two fingers up at the enemy which the archers copied, laughing at our enemies. My uncle then rode back to his position. laughing wishing his men good luck as he rode by. I looked at the enemy as they slowly moved through the knee deep water and then swifty they rushed up the open plain by the river towards us. By the way they were moving they appeared to be mounted archers, armed with short bows and light armour. Yet, behind them rode rank upon rank of warriors in shining armour to match our wealthiest knights knights. With them were men in mail and long flowing robes of red and black. They all rushed across the river, their horses carrying them well. I even saw groups of them riding camels into battle. The enemy quickly formed up into their fighting positions. In the centre were their heaviest warriors with lighter cavalry on the flanks and their archers in the front. I looked at the men around me, looked at my uncle who sat on his horse before three standard bearers, one carrying a standard for the Order, one for Gondor and one for the Harris family, the cross over a tree and stars. The blew in the wind displayed for the enemy to see.

My gaze was torn forwards again in time to see the enemy begin to slowly move forwards. They fought in their own way, usually against light infantry with some heavy groups of men. Soon they slow advance became a full scale charge and I felt my heart pounding away. Their archers raced faster than the others, eager to get their arrows off at us. I heard my uncle's voice again then.

'Archers, nock!' In front of me I saw the archers nock their arrows into their bowstrings. 'Draw! Loose!'

Suddenly a terrible howl filled the air as hundred of arrows suddenly flew into the sky. Hundreds of them formed a cloud which descended on the swarm of mounted archers. I could see the beasts fall dead and their masters being thrown through the air before crashing into the ground. The archers let off arrows as fast as they could but even they couldn't shoot evry enemy archer. The enemy finally became close enough and then let off their arrows. Many crashed into our archers who clutched at the wounds in their necks and weak points in their armour. Others hit my men but the arrows became embedded in steel plates but didn't go much further. Others shattered against shield and armour. Some of my men though did fall dead, clutching at the arrows in their faces as blood gushed out of their wounds.

'Visors down!' I shouted and shut my helmet, suddenly my only vision became the narrow slit in the steal.

I heard arrows fly through the air around me and I lifted up my shield to add extra protection from the enemy arrows. When the arrows stopped I lowered my shield and looked towards the enemy. Before I even looked I felt the ground begin to shake as three thousand horsemen charged directly at us. The archers rushed from their positions as was the normal order to take up new positions behind the safety of my men. The thousands of cavalry charging at us were an incredible sight. A solid wall of shining segmented armour, lance tips and scimitars. They yelled their praises as they charged in a frenzied madness. However, at the last moment they realised what they were charging at. They charged straight into the line of stakes and in one moment their charge was broken. Horses went straight through the steaks, their guts being torn out and men somersaulted into the air to land in front of our ranks before being quickly cut down. The pile of dead horses and men forced the others to stop before being knocked over by the horsemen behind them. Their great, heroic charge became but a simple chaotic mess just as my uncles plan suggested. I looked at the men around me and gave the order.

'Charge!'

At that we cheered and charged directly at the enemy. I let out a battle cry as I raced forwards to the confused mass of men before me. I stabbed up into the neck of one of their men and my noble weapon burnt straight through him and came out the top of his helmet. I pulled my weapon back and knocked a lance jab with my shield before cleaving off the arm of its owner. A horse reared up at me and prepared to strike my head with its hooves. I didn't give it the chance and cut the animals belly open. The beast moaned as it fell over trapping its owner beneath it. I moved quickly and stabbed down at him. All around me my men struck up at our enemies, slowly driving our way past corpses of men and horses and bloodied, broken stakes. I was standing on the body of a man who was on top of another body and maybe another one. I parried the blow of a scimitar and then stabbed him straight through the man's mail shirt killing him. His body fell to the ground, added to the carpet of corpses. I stopped fighting for a few moments and looked around me, pushing up my visor and the stench of battle hit me. Many of the enemy had abandoned their mounts and were fighting as infantry. Everywhere I looked I saw men and horses in a brutal battle with the hot sun beating down on us. A scimitar swung at me and I dodged out of the way, almost slipping on the mess of bodies and blood. My enemy, a wealthy young nobleman from Harad by the look of him, swung his ornate sword again and I blocked the blow with Alaric who shattered my opponents weapon. The shards of metal darted into the Harad mans eyes and he collapsed, clutching the bloody remains of his eyes. I stabbed down into the back of his neck before moving on, pushing further into the enemies positions.

The solid line of Gondorian swords defended themselves well but still I saw my men fall. My men fell, clutching their black stained coats and their heads rolled onto the ground. Our advance was soon halted by the press of enemy bodies. It was brutal. Blood spurted through the air as we fought tooth and nail to defend our land. Just to me left a man was stabbed through the neck and fell dead before being avenged by the man who stood in the rank behind him. Looking over the heads of the men in the chaotic battle I saw the spearmen under Rickard's command defending themselves well and the archers behind us losing arrows over our heads at where they hoped the enemy archers were. Suddenly I was back in the fight so I hacked and slashed as hard as I could, adding to the pile of corpses. Just to my right Argaloth was hacking swiftly at the enemy with all of the skill from the order of knights he had been expelled from. His scratched armour was bloody and his steel skull cap was dented but he still fought on, enjoying the thrill of combat.

Suddenly something changed. The press of Harad bodies against us slackened and I realised why. Just over the heads of the men fighting I saw a line of solid plate armour charging them at the flank. Their shields were crosses, some over trees and stars, but I knew who it was. Markus and his cavalry charged into the right flank of the enemy. Their lances shattered as they cut down the enemy and trampled them beneath iron shod hooves. The swords flashed into the sun as they cut our enemies down. Before me our enemies tried to retreat.

'Charge them down!' I shouted and we charged after them, cutting down any we could reach.

I slashed one across the back of his legs and he fell over but I rushed on, leaving him to the men behind me. In the end we stopped, completely out of breath as the cavalry charged the enemy down all the way to the Crossings. Soon I looked at Alaric as the flickering light vanished with the last of the enemy. Some cheered, some wept. All had seen war at the end of that day. It was the start of the Umbar War.

AN: Well there goes another battle and another chapter. Tell me, what did you think of this? I hope you all liked it so please review. I loved writing this chapter.

Review Responses:

ATP: I'm glad you liked the last chapter and I hope you liked this one. Also, thanks for your ideas on the Avari but I don't think I will have any of them converting. Elves have followed Illuvitar for millennia and I don't think that they would be willing to turn away from him for something new. I know there are many similarities between Eru and God but the Elves may see them as different beings so they may not convert. Still, it is a good idea.

Kiya Namiel: Well, the way has properly begun. Yeah, I liked writing the scene between John and Sunniva. I didn't want it to get too melodramatic or over the top so I decided to go a little more subtle. Thanks for the review.