Chapter 1

I hoped my father would not be the one to find me, and that when my body was discovered it would not be so ruined as to break his heart. I reached back grabbing another arrow from the sheath stored on my back, acutely aware that the number was beginning to dwindle. Pulling back the taught string I focused on the closest enemy to me, a large orc with blood-stained skin and frenzied yellow eyes, my arrow quickly finding purchase deep is the side of his neck, he fell to the ground drowning in the black liquid spewing from his mouth.

I hope that this last stand of men would prove victorious, though I had little hope for my own survival. I was not supposed to be here, on the Fields of Pelennor surrounded by enemies fighting to the death. I was not even supposed to be near the battle. I was supposed to be in the House of Healing helping the healers with the wounded, it was the only reason I was allowed to stay in the city to begin with.

My intentions from the beginning had never been to be a healer, my place was to be among the archers on the wall, felling enemies from the distance. I had been afraid of my presence being discovered and being sent away, I disguised myself with a hooded cloak and a handkerchief covering my lower face. My disguise was pointless, in the chaos of war no one cared to whom the bow next to them belonged to.

I believed myself lucky to be serving a purpose and soon found that my skill with a bow translated past shooting dummies. My first death should have felt meaningful, but the second one came too quickly to care. Time was a mystery as I let loose arrow after arrow, refilling my sheath time and time again. I had observed the battle from my perch, able to watch the motions of battle. The forces of Gondor fighting back the assailants, the motions of the Rohan forces as they cut through the enemy, I even saw the Witch King himself fall from afar. The field before me was laden with enemies and friends alike and I counted myself lucky to be removed from the action of it.

As it is, there is no luck in war.

I soon found out when the wall that I and several other soldiers were perched on was hit by a large projectile from the enemy. It would have been merciful if I had been killed in the fall, if below in the rubble my body and been silently crushed. One moment living and the next gone, it would have saved me the battle for self-preservation. I had survived the fall, albeit with a great personal injury that I was unable to account for properly since as soon as I stood from the debris I was under assault. There were many fellow men on the battlefield with me and we hurriedly formed a tight unit, but we were greatly outnumbered.

All around me were orcs, trolls, men of differing allegiances, and in the distance, I could see mumakil which I dearly hoped stayed far away from me. I was already battle-worn, the attack had started at dawn with the arrival of the horse-lords, and this was my first combat. I have little skill with a sword and know that my fate lay with the number of arrows in my sheath. The small group of us that had fought together were slowly beginning to dwindle, despite our efforts. A knight hailing the colors of my people was sliced down ten paces from me by an Easterling with a large spear, I quickly avenged his life.

I hoped that when my time it would be swift and painless.

My situation was getting direr by the moment, a quick glance around and my attention was captured by a single Rohan rider slashing his way through enemies not far away. He was tall and fearsome with his white-tailed helm, he fought with fury and purpose unlike any I had never seen; there was no pause after each enemy he fell, quickly and recklessly moving onto the next. His large grey warhorse moved with him as one and together they brought down their foes. Such was his agility that I was shocked when he was unseated from his stead by a large troll.

Without thinking I took off in his direction unsure of my goal but knowing the man needed assistance, I began dropping the few foes between us with expertly placed arrows. Using my thin frame and light armor I was able to dash through the field quicker than my mail-laden foes, and my speed and small size made me an unappealing target for many. As I approached, I could see his mount was warding off any orcs from attacking its master while the warrior fought toe-to-toe with the large monster. The beast stood three heads taller than even this giant of a man, but the fight was evenly matched.

The man was more than holding his own, dodging attacks a moving with a speed I thought impossible for such an armored man, his sword made purchase several times, but the damage was minimal. I loosed an arrow and its pile dug deep into the skin of the beast's right shoulder, it barely took notice of the new addition, continuing its assault on the horse-lord. The warrior took a swing a slashed into the extended arm of the troll, severing its hand from body. Letting out a roar that pained my ears the troll kicked out and dropped the soldier to his back. The troll drew its giant clobbering arm back poised to attack the prone soldier. Acting swiftly, I notched my second arrow and prayed to Elbereth for better placement. I missed the neck, which was my goal, instead, it found lodging into the cheek of the troll's thick grey-tinged skin.

The monster's enormous head focused on me, a chill slide up my spine as I prepared my next volley. Blood oozing from the stump at the end of its arm and my arrow lodged into the side of its face the troll took heavy steps in my direction. I attempted to block off the fear that was beginning to grip my chest and shot another arrow into the beast's chest, closer to the heart this time. My attack took valuable time and I had to dive out of the reach of the troll's good arm as it came arching down towards me and landing with a large thud in the space that I previously occupied. I rolled over in time to see the great creature turning around my direction, I scrambled backward attempting to get my footing back.

All at once the large figure of the soldier was in front me, his sword held high over his head arching down onto the troll, engaging him in battle again. Grateful for the help, I steadied myself and took inventory of my surroundings. The battlefield was full of similar battles everywhere, the blood and gore covered the Fields of Pelennor in blacks and reds. Though the race of men was outnumbered, we fought with the intensity of ten of the enemy.

The battle between the troll and Rohirrim began to draw the attention of more enemies, eager to take down such a formidable foe. Against all instinct, I turned my back to the troll, faithful that the horse-lord would prevail and began aiming at anything who dared come too close. Together like this, we fought for some time, each time I spared looked back at the fight behind me the troll looked more and more damaged.

I downed many more enemies, but their numbers never seemed to end. I was able to refill my sheath from the back of a fallen foe, though I received a slice to the side from an orc that I previously thought dead in payment. The pain was initially intense, and I felt warm blood seep onto my tunic, but I quickly forgot of it as plunged an arrow into the neck of the injured orc and prepared to fire at my next enemy.

Eventually, I heard a guttural yell and turned to see the troll's eyes roll into the back of his head as the Rohirrim's sword plunged up the chin and into the head of the beast. The troll fell with a resounding thud onto the ground. The horse-lord wasted no time in attacking the next enemy that came his way. Together we fought, side by side, there were not many allies nearby, but a growing number of dead foes began accumulating around us.

I reached my arm back at one point only to discover myself spent on arrows; this was the end then. The horse-lord was cutting down these smaller foes one after another and thus far had kept me protected from behind. I would die knowing that I might have helped him to survive. I unsheathed my dagger, the only weapon available and waited for my death to come to me, ready to take my killer down with me. I did not have to wait long as a scrawny orc with blood soaking his sword moved towards me, I adjusted my stance ready to attack.

The orc spoke something at me in his forsaken language and brought down his sword, I jumped to the side dodging the attack and slashed out, putting a small cut into my assailants' arm. The two of us danced around for a few turns, just barely jumping out of the way at the last second at each swing the orc took at me, the orc getting closer to its mark on every turn. My luck ran out at I moved just a second too late and the orc's sword slashed just under my left shoulder, I cried out a pain grasping at the bleeding skin.

This was the end, I prayed to Elbereth my father would forgive me and braced for death.

The orc let out a sound of glee and raised his sword to finish me, only to get a sword to the back from the Rohirrim, the orc looked down at the fatal wound as if surprised to see the steel through him before falling to the ground dead.

The horse-lord quickly yelled something in his native language, before turning to cut down an approaching orc, shielding me from them with his body. Seconds later the massive steel-grey warhorse appeared. The man mounted the horse gracefully and then surprised me when he put his hand out to help me. With my good arm, I reached up and was dragged on behind the warrior who then quickly took off, killing enemies as he went.

I was alive, but still in a battle. I quickly ripped off the handkerchief covering my face and fashioned it around wound to try and quell the bleeding. With my good arm, I slashed at anything that I could reach with my dagger. I was not sure where the horse-lord was taking us, but I knew that from his horse we were at the advantage.

Then I saw the most wonderful sight, a host of rangers arriving in Corsairs ships attacking the enemy from its back and shifting the battle into the favor of men. The horse-lord steered his mount into the heart of the fighting and destroyed the suddenly fearful enemies, no longer sure of their victory.

That was the turning point for the battle and the enemy soon was running on their heels, though there were still small skirmishes going on, the battle itself was over. It looked as if the Rohirrim was directing us back into the city. The emotion and excitement from the fight began to leave me, I started to feel the pain I was in, reaching up I felt the blood seeping through the hastily applied bandage. I also became more aware of the cut to my side I had sustained earlier in battle, that was no longer bleeding but still painful. The energy began to leave me and I began to slip from my seat behind the horse-lord.

A steady hand grabbed me a pulled me back upright, he turned in the saddle to look at me properly for the first time and his eyes widened. I was confused at his expression until his voice spoke out clearly in the common tongue, "You're a girl." I wanted to laugh but could not find the energy.

"A woman," was all I could manage before the world went black.