First things first.
I DON'T OWN THE LORD OF THE RINGS!
ALL RIGHTS BELONGS TO J.R.R TOLKIEN AND THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS OF THE MOVIES!
My first attempt in writing a Lord of the Rings fic, so please don't be too hard on me :)
I am a huge Lord of the Rings Fan since the first movie came out, but I have never tried to write a fic about this fandom.
I once wrote something about the Hobbit, but not about Lord of the Rings. Well, here it is now.
It features one of my most favorite, if not THE most favorite scene of mine from all three movies.
It's just a short one-shot, so please don't expect too much.
I hope you will still like it :)
I am also sorry for grammer/spelling mistakes, for I translated this from german into english.
And I would appreciate feedback in the form of a comment very much.
Not only is feedback very motivating, but it also shows me that my story gets read and is not ignored.
If I get the feeling my story gets ignored, I won't update it, for I see no reason to do so then.
So please don't be shy and share your thoughts with me. I won't bite you.
Horrible legends come true
Merry's eyes were wide with fear as he let them roam across the battlefield and tried to realize all the atrocities around him and failed miserably at it.
Éowyn had great difficulty taming the frightened stallion she and the little hobbit were sitting on. The horse shied and wanted to run away in its panic, but the brave warrior managed to bring it back under control and not a bit too slowly, because an orc rushed towards them with drawn blade. She raised her sword and Merry closed his eyes as she parted the orc's head from his shoulders and immediately afterwards impaled a second orc with the sword.
For a hobbit, battles like this could no longer be surpassed in cruelty. Even their books didn't tell of such terrible battles. The life of a hobbit was a quiet and stress-free life, far away from the human world or that of the elves, dwarves or wizards. And above all, far away from orcs and other dark creatures.
But Merry was living through his worst nightmare right now.
The battle had been going on for a long time and he knew he would never get the mighty war horns and drums of the orcs and trolls out of his head, as well as their cruel screams when they attacked and brutally killed one of their victims or the roars of the Wargs that tore up their prey with their mighty fangs.
The wave of orcs and other gruesome creatures of Mordor seemed never to end.
When they stood on top of the hill and saw the sea of creatures, Merry inwardly finished his life. When Éowyn had urged her stallion on with a battle cry and dashed off with Rohan's riders, he had believed they would never survive this attack.
But he was still alive and to his own great surprise he had actually managed to kill some orcs. His body had reacted instinctively and Éowyn's words of praise still echoed in his ears, like the roars of the beasts at his feet or the shrill cries of the Ringwraiths overhead.
Those made him shudder the most, because he and his friends had faced them before and it was the worst thing he had had to go through so far. Back on Weathertop, when Frodo was wounded by one of them.
The bloodcurdling screams of these creatures would likely haunt him in his worst nightmares until the end of his life...
He dared to briefly raise his gaze and look up at the mighty city of Minas Tirith, which was besieged by massive battle towers of the orcs. The Ringwraiths circled over the city on their winged creatures and their screams reached down to them and even silenced the loud fighting for a few seconds.
He hoped so much that his friends were fine and still alive. Pipin had stayed in Minas Tirith together with Gandalf and fought there side by side with the wizard.
He didn't know what had happened to Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas, because he had not seen them since their rest on the slopes of this enchanted mountain range.
His thoughts were also with Frodo and Sam and he hoped so much that the two were still alive and reasonably safe and not on such a gruesome battlefield as here at the gates of Minas Tirtith.
"Look, Merry. They are withdrawing! Victory seems near!" he heard Éowyn's excited voice suddenly reach his ears and the orc hordes actually seemed to flee from Rohan's riders. He saw the riders chasing the orcs and killing those who stayed behind.
King Theoden was already singing a victory anthem that was repeated by many of his loyal followers. Then he shouted orders into the crowd and where to direct the orcs to give them the final blow.
But it shouldn't come to that...
From the distance a rumble rose, like the sound of an approaching thunderstorm and immediately all eyes were directed to the horizon.
The riders, who had just cheered, fell silent on the spot and an eerie silence fell over the battlefield as all pairs of eyes focused on the horror that rose there on the horizon.
The horses began to shy away, some rose on their hind legs when the ground began to shake beneath their hooves and their riders had great difficulty calming them down, as they themselves were tense when the horror became visible on the horizon.
Merry couldn't believe his eyes when he saw what was coming.
He had only heard of these creatures in legends and read about them in old books of middle earth, but he had never believed that all the legends that were told about them were actually true.
But they were true and the creatures stomped right towards them.
Each of their mighty, deadly steps made the ground shake and Minas Tirith seemed to tremble under the tremendous force as the creatures came closer and closer.
A war horn resounded over the Pelennor Fields, joining with the chanting of the men perched high on the backs of the mighty creatures.
"Reform the line! Reform the line!" he heard King Theoden roar at the edge of his perception and the riders of Rohan regrouped, but each of them had fear on his face and he knew that Éowyn didn't feel any differently. His own heart was beating up to his neck by now and fear ate its way through his trembling body like a parasite and he couldn't take his eyes off the creatures that were coming faster and faster, raising their trunks and roaring so loudly that it even silenced the screeching of the Ringwraiths.
Rohan's horn resounded and to Merry's horror all riders, including their own stallion, started moving and galloped straight into a nightmare.
Éowyn let out a battle cry that froze his blood to ice, but his eyes were still fixed on the creatures, who rushed toward them with their trunks held high, showing off their huge tusks. Some of them wore terrible weapons on their tusks and even around their feet they had huge spikes that should impale every horse and rider if they came too close to them.
A single blow with those tusks would be enough to kill many good Rohan warriors in one blow and those who survived the blow were trampled under the mighty feet of those beasts.
Merry closed his eyes when the Mûmakil roared again and the Haradrim on their backs called to attack and just seconds later riders and beasts collided and all Merry heard were the death cries of those who fell victim to the beasts of Mordor.
And it was at this moment that he only wished for one thing:
That legends remained legends...