Pelennor field
Standing in the courtyard, Denethor looks around. The entire cavalry is present. Most have already mounted their horses. Some horses are being held by stable hands. Only one horse is absent. His horse. What is taking them so long?
Turning around, he sees how the cavalry is making final preparations. Those riders who are mounted check their gear as well as their tack. Others are still putting on their gear or checking it over. And those are the ones who reached the courtyard moments ago. They were late. Where did they come from? The third level? They should have been here long before they did.
Thinking this, his eyes turn towards the gate of the second level. He tries to catch a glips from his horse. They should have been here already. Just like the cavalrymen who were late. He needs to leave soon. Else orcs might think it a good idea to assault the walls again. Or find another way into the city. He cannot allow it to happen. He refuses.
The sounds of hoves hitting the ground get louder. He smiles. So they are nearly here. It is about time. Checking over his gear, he is satisfied it will not cause him any problems. Buior has done his duty properly. Just like always. Walking towards the front of the cavalry's gathering, he waits for his horse. It takes a moment before his horse is brought to him. He now sees who brought his horse: Bergil.
Bergil holds the reins. Taking the reins in his hands, he mounts his horse. Nodding to Bergil, Bergil steps back. Bergil stands to the side with a worried look. Why? It is not like Beregond is among his guards, right? His eyes narrow and his lips thin. Turning to his guards, he sees them mounting horses. While they do so he quickly looks at each face seeking a similar face. He hopes he will fail. His face falls momentarily before pushing it into a neutral expression. Nobody would have seen his reaction. But now he understands Bergil's face; Beregond is among his guards.
Turning in his saddle, he checks on the cavalry. Everyone has mounted in the meantime. He smiles. Now everything is arranged for the cavalry to ride out. Meeting Imrahil's eyes, he nods once. Now it is time to leave.
Turning around, he looks at the gate. His eyes widen. When did the gate break? He does not remember hearing it break. Nor anyone mentioning it. But then during the battle, he was not really paying much attention to what goes on around him.
Looking at the gate, he sees how rubble is littered in the path. The gate itself has a massive hole into it. He is fairly certain the rubble comes from the hole. They cannot leave this way. Not with all the rubble in front of it. Now, he needs to ensure they can get out of the city and he knows just how to do it.
"Clear a path! Close it immediately after the cavalry has passed through."
The guards at the gate immediately step into action clearing away the rubble. Some run into the city. Most likely to get supplies to close the gap later on. Another horse moves next to him. Turning to his left, he sees Mithrandir moving next to him. His eyes narrow again and his lips thin. Why? Why does Mithrandir feel the need to join them? He could easily stay in the city. There is no need for Mithrandir to join the cavalry.
Mithrandir smiles at him. He does not respond even though he knows Mithrandir wants to talk. He does not see the need for it. There is nothing for them to talk about. Well, nothing? There is something they could talk about but he refuses to even consider talking about it. If Mithrandir wants to ride out with the cavalry, he will not stop him. It is not like he could stop Mithrandir.
Looking back at the broken gate, he sees how the guards have nearly finished clearing a path. It will only be a moment now before he can join the Rohirrim on the field. His heart starts to beat faster in his chest. He listens to the cavalry and hears the stomping of hooves. He smiles. The horses all feel like he feels.
Riding out of the city, he rides straight at the first line of orcs he can find. The cavalry following close behind. In what formation they ride is of no importance to him right now. All he cares about is pushing through the orcs. He blocks everything out as he rides forward confident that his guards will follow close behind.
Hitting the first line of orcs, he kills whatever orc crosses his path. He pushes into the lines with as much speed as he can. All the while ensuring he does not get pulled from his horse or wounded. From time to time, an orc tries to attack him from the side. Each time, he slashes the neck. It nearly always ends in a decapitation. But even when it does not, the orc dies. All to save Gondor and ensure Mordor's defeat.
The further he gets, the closer he gets to Theoden. His objective was nearly reached. But he cannot falter now. He needs to keep his eyes on the orcs in front and to his side. Only if he manages to survive will he be able to meet Theoden on the field.
Suddenly, a cry comes from the left side. Taking a quick look, his eyes widen. Another group of Rohirrim is attacking the orcs there. Where do they come from? Well from his left side, he knows that. But when did they arrive here? With the other Rohirrim? He does not know but feels they were not with the group he saw earlier. Regardless, if he thought Theoden had emptied his land of men before then he now is certain.
He turns his head back to the orcs in front of him. Not much later, he reaches the middle of the field. Or at least what he perceives to be the middle. It is here that he sees Theoden riding. Urging his horse forward, he rides to meet up with Theoden which he does not much later.
"Steward Denethor, it is good to see you here. I am glad we arrived on time."
"Theoden King, I am glad to see you too. I want to thank you for coming to our aid in our darkest hour. You arrived just in time. I do not know if we could have held out much longer."
"It is only normal for me to do so. Rohan gave an oath. We keep our word."
"I am glad to hear that."
He smiles. He has a feeling there is something else behind Theoden's words but does not pay attention to it. Only the current situation is on his mind. Everything is under control now. The siege has ended. Calmness fills him. Soon the last of the orcs will be dealt with and he can move on to repair the city.
Horns sound in the distance. He turns his head towards the direction the sound came from. As he turns his head, he sees how everyone else does the same thing. The fighting stops momentarily around him. On the edge of the field, oliphaunts walk onto the field. On the back of the oliphaunts, wooden towers stand. Those towers look like carriages. Dread fills him. He knows how dangerous these beasts are and how difficult it is to kill them.
Behind the oliphaunt, a cavalry rides onto the field. The men are dressed in colorful armor. The reflecting sun is blinding. He knows what this means. A cry comes from his left.
"Haradrim!"
He turns his head and glares at the person who screamed. It will not do anything good if panic erupts. But back to the Haradrim, why would they come now? He did not expect them. Especially now. He sees how the Haradrim will be attacking them. And from behind of all places. He grinds his teeth. He does not like it. Still, he raises his sword knowing full well what his next action will be.
"Form lines! Form lines. Do not let anyone through."
A quick glance to the Rohirrim and he sees Theoden doing the same thing. Denethor looks back at his own troops. His grip on his reins tightens. He has a feeling of what will happen now. A feeling, he buries deep within his mind. He refuses for it to control him but cannot deny it existing.
Back with the Haradrim, they fall into lines at an easy trot. Moments later, they gallop at his lines. He feels his horse moving around nervously. Tightening the reins, he stops the movement. His horse wants to leave. So does he but he refuses to show cowardice. He will face the Haradrim.
Faster than he realizes, the Haradrim reach his lines and plunge into it. Fighting breaks out once more. The orcs attacking from the sides. He knows they waited there for their reinforcements to enter the field. He slashes at the orcs. He manages to stab a few with his knife. While fighting, he does not dare look at Theoden. His situation will be similar. Denethor stays with his men fighting to keep the Haradrim at bay. They fight even though the situation looks grim. He refuses to give up for never again will he give up without a fight.
An ear-piercing cry sounds. His ears hurt. He covers them with his hands while turning his head. His eyes widen in horror. Theoden's horse is lifted from the ground. It is caught in the mouth of the Nazgul's beast by its neck. The beast swings Theoden's horse around for a few moments before throwing it on the ground. All with Theoden stuck in his saddle. He is far away but still hears the sound of Theoden and his horse hitting the ground. It is a loud sound which is accompanied by the breaking of bones.
The beast lands and moves towards them. Denethor turns his head away. He knows what this means. Theoden will surely die. An event he does not want to see.
Looking ahead, he sees it will take the Haradrim some time to reach him. At the same time, his lines are still forming. Keeping an eye on it, he considers the turn of events while he has time. This turn of events makes no sense to him. He never heard from his own scouts that Haradrim were gathering. So when did they get here? He does not know and does not like it. But one thing he knows; the Haradrim's appearance shocked and surprised him.
As he realizes this, he feels another feeling reaching him; sadness. Sadness for the turn of events. How could this have happened? Everything looked like it would turn out in Gondor's favor. Nothing gave him any indication of what is happening now. Where did he fail? He does not know. And the longer he thinks about it, the more he begins to feel like it is not entirely his fault.
He thought all the Haradrim were already on the field with the orcs. Actually, he thought no Haradrim had come to aid Mordor. He does not remember seeing any on the field. It does not eliminate the possibility of some being here. And how much he dislikes it he has to admit Mordor prepared itself well. They have hidden the gathering of the Haradrim very well.
He looks around. What should he do? Stay with the Rohirrim or split up their forces? Or should he go back into the city? No, the city is not the place he should go to. It would serve no one. It only leaves two options open. But which one will he follow, he does not know.
If he stays with the Rohirrim, they will have a better chance of defeating the Haradrim. Or they can form a better defense. If he splits up their forces then that will allow them to strike at multiple places at the same time. This should make things more difficult for the Haradrim. His heart moves to join Rohan. He looks up and is about to give his orders when another thought strikes him.
He has evacuation orders standing for those inside Minas Tirith. If this goes wrong then he needs to ensure the escape paths are safe. He cannot join Rohan. No matter how much he would like to. They need to return to the city's walls. He refuses to enter the city again until this fight is over. They need to keep the Haradrim and orcs out of the city for as long as they can. His mind made up, he straightens and calls out his orders.
"Pull back! Pull back to the walls of Minas Tirith!"
He turns his horse around and gallops back towards the city. Along the way, he fights anything which crosses his path. Be it an orc, Haradrim, or warg. Behind him, he can hear the movement of the cavalry following close behind him. Everyone is in a desperate struggle to reach the city's walls.
Along the way, he manages to catch a glimpse of the Rohirrim. They have not moved far. They have stayed where they were and are fighting the Haradrim. No clear strategy in place. He considers it foolish. As if they have a death wish. Those who stay in the middle of the field without a strategy have death waiting for them. They should have followed his example.
He bites his lips but continues. There is nothing he can do. If they want to stay, he will let them. They are not bound to his orders. Besides, they are most likely following their new leader. Who this is, he has some ideas. Most likely Éomer or if he is unavailable one of the marshalls. All ideas he will pursue after the battle. Not right now.
Suddenly a large group of orcs surround him. Pulling on his reins, he feels his horse rearing on his back legs. Loosening his hold, he feels his horse settling down. Looking ahead, he breathes a sigh of relief. He was fast enough to avoid riding headfirst into the orcs. It saved his life. Had he not reacted as quickly, he would have been pulled from his horse and killed.
Quickly looking around, he sees how his cavalry is cut off from him. Or he from them. It is just a matter of how one looks at it. But in the end, the orcs stand between him and the cavalry in large numbers. There is no way either can reach the other.
Turning his horse around, he notices how four other horses stand close to him. It makes it nearly impossible for him to turn his horse. Still, he manages but only barely. He sighs. At least, his personal guard stayed close to him. Not that it matters much now. They are with too few to protect him and themselves. It is all futile.
Narrowing his eyes, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind. He urges his horse forward. He will not die without a fight. He refuses. He hears his guard following him. He pushes at the lines of orcs. Each time, it appears he found an opening orcs quickly block his path. It does not stop him from trying. He needs to get to the city. It is the only thought in his mind.
After a long time and many attempts, he sees himself surrounded. Even more than before. And what is worse this time, he has been pushed further away from the cavalry. Looking towards the city, he can see the cavalry pushing towards him. He smiles sadly. They show their loyalty but it is useless. He cannot reach the city. Not now and not for a long time. Maybe even ever. He knows if the cavalry reaches him, they will be unable to get him safely to the city. Why do they try? They should protect the city.
Shaking his head, he looks around. He sees nothing has changed much since the last time he looked. His guards stand bravely around him. Orcs are leering. Most likely waiting to strike if he knows them. He bites his lips feeling dread filling him. He knows what this means. The same thing as before. It is the last thing he wants. At the city walls, he has safety in numbers for the archers can protect him and his guard. They are better protected by the city walls. As for being near the cavalry, it has the same effect. And both he does not have.
He sighs. No matter how he looks at it, he knows the situation is grimmer than before. It is almost bleak. And there is little he can do to make it better. But what are the little things, he can do? He can only come up with a few options. He can either try to reach the cavalry or the walls of Minas Tirith. He could also try to reach the Rohirrim. These are the only options, he has available. Considering the options momentarily, he instantly dismisses the last one. The Rohirrim are further away than the cavalry or the walls. It would be foolish to attempt to reach them. But what will he do now?
He only has two options available now. And for each, the question is: who can he reach first? The wall is far away from him. His cavalry also. Neither is close to him. So, who is the closest? Looking around, he moves back quickly. Damn, he missed the orc coming upon him. Only his quick response saved him from being killed.
Gripping his sword tight, he swings it towards the orc. Tightening his hold on his reins, he pulls his horseback. He turns his horse quickly and strikes again. The orc hisses in pain. Taking advantage of this matter, he strikes again. The orc drops death.
Having done that, he looks around. Another one comes upon him. He holds tight and when the orc comes close, he kills it. Thankfully this time without a long fight. Looking around, he tries to find other orcs. But no matter how much he looks no more orcs come running towards him. They all stay where they are, leering at him. Grinding his teeth, he knows what this means. It is not something he can do anything about.
Back to the question from before; who can he reach the fastest? Looking at the distance between the cavalry and the wall, he tries to calculate the distance. But as he looks at the distance, he makes an important observation. He sees how the cavalry is between him and the wall. He smiles. His decision has been made for him. He will do all he can to reach the cavalry. With them, he has the best chance of surviving. And hopefully, he can reach the city safely. Or as safely as is possible to do.
Kicking his horse, he urges him forward. This time, the orcs will not stop him. He will reach the cavalry. Or die trying. As he rides, he hears how his guard is close behind him.