Disclaimer: I do not own/profit off of The Lord of the Rings, which belongs to their respective owners.
Wow! This chapter ended up getting really long, but I kind of expected that since so much happened during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.
Update: Removed an anachronism.
"All units, report in," comes a voice from a ground radio. "This is Léofwine of the Rohirrim."
"Falcon Leader, standing by."
"Falcon 2, standing by," reports James.
"Falcon 3, standing by."
"Falcon 4, standing by."
"Falcon 5, standing by. Luciano, report in."
"Falcon 6, standing by."
"Spider Leader, standing by."
"Spider 2, standing by."
"Spider 3, standing by."
"Spiders 1, 2, and 3, attack the giant Mûmakil!"
"Roger that."
As the Mûmakil charge across the battlefield, the Mosquitoes form an attack run heading straight towards the formation, intending on hitting the Mûmakil with their rockets. Meanwhile, the Jeep has stayed back, intending on avoiding the Mûmakil to keep the vital connection between ground and air forces alive.
"This is Spider Leader, Spider 2, on my right, and Spider 3, on my left. Aim between their eyes."
"Roger," responds the other two Mosquitoes.
Once the Mosquitoes get into position, they throttle up and zoom past the charging Rohirrim, giving them a boost of morale. As the Mosquitoes close in onto the Mûmakil, they each launch four rockets from around 800 meters and pull up immediately afterwards as what seem to be arrows fly past their aircraft and explode many tiny pieces of metal midair, punching small holes into the wings of one of the Mosquitoes.
"Bloody hell, this is Spider 2 and I've been hit! Have they figured out anti-aircraft weaponry?!" exclaims the pilot of the hit Mosquito.
Looking back at the scene, the airmen report two dead Mûmakil, their heads exploded into pieces from the RP-3 rockets. However, the rest of the Mûmakil appear to have survived and have continued towards the Rohirrim, trampling many and using their tusks to sweep away many more with ease. At the same time, the archers atop the Mûmakil begin to shoot at the Rohirrim, picking off even more of them with their formation broken. In addition, the Mûmakil have broken formation and have gone on individual paths of destruction, prompting the lead Mosquito to issue a free-for-all command to target each Mûmakil.
"This is Spider Leader, they appear to have broken each other's formation. Go after the rest of the Mûmakil."
"Copy that."
With that, the pilot of Spider 2 sets up an attack run on a Mûmakil chasing a group of Rohirric cavalry, facing towards the Mûmakil. As he gets closer, he fires several cannon rounds directly at the Mûmakil's head and pulls up, hearing several explosions behind him afterwards. Glancing backwards, he finds the corpse of a Mûmakil lying on the ground, its tower crashed on the expansive fields.
"This is Spider 2, one enemy unit down."
Around 40 seconds later, another transmission comes. "This is Spider 3, another unit down. Those tusks are absolutely massive! I wonder how much money we could get from selling their ivory."
"This is Spider Leader, regroup."
"Affirmative."
"One two three four five, six, seven, eight nine ten, eleven twelve, thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen. 16. Four down, so they had 20. We need more firepower if we want to get them all down. Continue attacking them. Ground control, send someone back to base for more close air support. Over."
15 seconds later, a reply arrives. "Roger that. Out." Around a minute later, two Italian aircraft can be seen leaving the battlefield, presumably to deliver the request to RAF Minas Tirith.
Meanwhile, the pilot of Spider 3 has flown above the battlefield, scanning for any distracted Mûmakil. Finding one walking at a snail's pace and swinging its tusks about, the pilot flys over to the Mûmakil and sets up an attack run to the side of the beast. Lining up his sights, the pilot flies in a straight line to the Mûmakil and launches the rest of his rockets, one impacting the neck of the Mûmakil and causing it to fall on its hind legs, close to death.
At the same time, another Mûmakil is downed a few hundred meters away from Spider 3. "This is Spider Leader, one unit down."
(Cue IL-2 Cliffs of Dover - Menu Theme)
However, an explosive arrow manages to find its way near the wooden fuselage of Spider 3's Mosquito and detonates, snapping several wires within the wooden framework of the aircraft.
"Blimey! The stick's not responding and I can't get out of the way—AAAAHHHHH!"
The Mosquito collides with the Mûmakil, impacting it in a shower of flame and destruction and instantly killing the two crewmen and the Mûmakil, the smoldering wreckage crashing down on the earth afterwards. This loss causes the lead Mosquito to issue an immediate order to regroup, not wanting any further casualties to occur. After the other Mosquito finds his way back to the leader, he counts the number of Mûmakil remaining.
"One two three, four, five six, seven eight nine. Only nine left. They appear to have rudimentary AA defenses, so do not fly straight when attacking!"
"Roger that, sir," replies Spider 2.
Meanwhile above, the four Spitfires scan the dark and cloudy skies for any bandits to intercept. Suddenly, a single fellbeast appears from what seems to be thin air, diving down onto the battlefield through the thick clouds.
"This is Falcon Leader. Bandit spotted, 3 o'clock low. Falcon 2, follow me. Falcon section, keep watch above sector C2, that's right above Minas Tirith."
"Roger that," replies James and the other pilots.
The two Spitfires head off to chase after the lone fellbeast, cutting their throttle and diving through clouds, where they regain visual on the bandit.
"Bandit ahead, 1 o'clock."
"Roger."
As they close in onto the fellbeast, the Spitfires throttle up to allow them to chase the fellbeast, passing just 400 metres above Minas Tirith. Suddenly, the fellbeast turns left, prompting the pursuers to turn left as well. James tries to take a shot at the fellbeast, but he misses due to the fellbeast's erratic manoeuvres. Dylan also tries to take a shot, but he misses as well. The Witch-king riding the fellbeast suddenly emits a loud, ear-shriveling scream, giving both pursuers an intense migraine for a few seconds. Once they regain their senses, they find the fellbeast to be turning right, so they turn right in response. Flying close to the ground and near the Mûmakil, the Spitfires each take turns shooting until a large cloud of arrows comes flying their way and they all explode, sending hundreds of metal fragments into the air. One of those fragments manages to find its way into James' Spitfire and slices through the water line near the motor.
"Bloody hell! I've been hit!"
"Falcon 2, you're leaking water! Break off!"
"Copy that!"
The two Spitfires, having preserved their speed, are able to climb away from the battlefield and the Witch-king and regroup with their formation above Minas Tirith. Luckily, the Witch-king appears to not have followed them while they were retreating. However, the coolant damage on James' Spitfire casts a different outlook on his situation.
"115... 120... I'd give or take five minutes more flight time. I don't think I can get back to base. I'll be landing somewhere north of here. I'll relay the distance and the course that I travelled to either ground control and/or RAF Minas Tirith so that my Spitfire can be found."
"Goodbye and good luck."
With that, James breaks off of the formation and beelines towards RAF Minas Tirith, even though he knows he probably won't make it there. He stays at a constant speed of 120 miles an hour in order to more easily perform the distance maths in his head and to better preserve the engine.
Around five minutes later
A short distance from the battlefield around halfway to the forest, James notices that the engine has started to sputter and smoke, signaling that it was failing. Finding himself to be in range for ground control at Minas Tirith, but not RAF Minas Tirith, James makes one final transmission to the former.
"SOS. I have suffered severe engine damage and will be landing soon. I have travelled approximately 10 miles west following the northern side of the White Mountains, approximately a fifth of the way from Minas Tirith to RAF Minas Tirith. I will most likely not be present at the landing site, as I will be vulnerable to ambush if I remain in my grounded aircraft."
James finds a flat and silent spot on the ground as the needle on the coolant gauge rises and rises. Just as he descends and lowers his landing gear, his engine dies, but he continues to touch down, landing relatively smoothly even as his propeller seizes up. Once he comes to a stop, James activates the parking brake, unbuckles his harness, and takes off his oxygen mask. Then, he retrieves his survival satchel containing food, ammunition, matches, and his medical gear, putting the matches into his pocket in case he comes across a Nazgû. After this, he opens his cockpit and climbs out, gazing out at the battle taking place on the fields of Minas Tirith.
"If I was at base, I'd be able to get my Spitfire running again within a week. But I'm not at base, so this is going to be a bit of a difficult situation."
James takes off his right boot to retrieve his service revolver, loading it with six bullets and hooking it onto his lanyard, then puts his boot back on afterwards.
"I might not be able to fly for now, but I still have my revolver and medical gear. I suppose I'll still be able to help, somehow."
After eating a biscuit and washing it down with water from his emergency flying rations, James starts walking back to the ongoing battle, determined to make a difference even without his Spitfire. After around a mile of walking, James spots a horse running directly towards him, its rider holding a bow and appearing to be one of the Rohirrim.
"Sir! What is it that brings you out here?" calls James.
"You must be the sky warrior who was fuming in white," says the rider as he comes to a stop. "I'm assuming you've come back to help us. The name's Gléothain, by the way. What's yours?"
Sky warrior? That's an interesting name for an RAF pilot. "My name is James Harris, but you can just call me James."
"Well, James, I saw you fly back there with a white trail and get back down on the earth, so I assumed you couldn't fly anymore. My commander ordered me to retrieve you in case you were still alive. Hop on and we'll ride back."
"Thank you for coming back. I don't think I'd survive trying to get in there without a horse."
With that, James mounts Gléothain's horse, sitting behind him, and they ride off to the battlefield, motivated to impact the course of the battle. Above them, a formation of four Mosquitoes flies towards Minas Tirith loaded with bombs and rockets and passes over the two men on the ground, replacing the two surviving Mosquitoes who had expended all their munitions and were flying past them in the opposite direction. This gives the two men a boost of morale, knowing that the battle was still going on in some way.
The Pelennor Fields
Arriving at the battle, it appears to be complete chaos, with corpses strewn all over the fields, Rohirrim slaughtering orcs, Mûmakil chasing after formations of Rohirric cavalry, and Mosquitoes chasing after and shooting at Mûmakil. Gléothain remains relatively silent as he rides towards one of the Mûmakil, surprising James, given the amount of communication that happens in the RAF. Gléothain then forms up with a group of Rohirrim, riding along the side of a Mûmakil close to its tail with as many arrows sticking out of it as there are quills in a porcupine. James raises his revolver, as do the others with their bows.
"Fire at the head!" commands an indeterminate voice.
The Rohirrim all release their arrows towards the head of the giant beast, causing it to scream in pain. Meanwhile, James shoots all six of his bullets at the head, causing the Mûmakil to roar in pain in combination with the arrows, with James reloading right after.
"Fire again!" commands the voice.
James unloads all six of his bullets towards the general direction of the head, reloading right after and noticing more arrows flying towards the head from Rohirrim riding near the front of the beast. However, the Mûmakil starts to fall directly onto the Rohirrim, causing James to shout, "Get away!" and grab Gléothain's arm, throwing himself and Gléothain off of their still-moving horse. Moments later, the Mûmakil falls onto its side, crushing their horse and several unfortunate Rohirrim who did not have the time to run away.
"Bloody hell..." remarks James as he gets up and helps Gléothain up to his feet, who drops his bow and grabs a sword from a nearby corpse. Glancing around, James finds a Haradric soldier charging at them with a spear, who he neutralises with his revolver.
"We'd better get moving," says James, who finds Gléothain fighting an orc, which James shoots and kills. However, another orc comes behind Gléothain and stabs him with its sword, causing him to fall dead to the ground.
"Wanker!" shouts James as he shoots the orc in the head, causing it to die immediately. He's dead, now what? Hold on, Éowyn could still be out here. I must help her!
With this new goal in mind, James runs off in search of Éowyn, staying as silent as possible to avoid attention from any of the orcs on the battlefield. Looking around, he finds the Witch-king standing on the battlefield, recognizing him in his distinctive helmet next to his dead fellbeast and facing a soldier lying on the ground who glances at James, who sees golden hair tucked in and hanging from the sides of the soldier's helmet. That must be Éowyn! This doesn't seem good. The Witch-king does not look at him, who appears to be solely focused on Éowyn, trying to finish her off as quickly as possible. The Witch-king grabs Éowyn by the neck and slowly raises her to face him, who is concentrating only on her, which causes James to run even faster towards them, going behind the Witch-king and sneaking up to his back.
As he gets closer, James can feel the effects of the Witch-king's aura piercing his heart with fear, exponentially growing with every step he takes, but he soldiers on, his love for Éowyn and courage hardened by the horrors of WWII just enough to resist the feelings of fear. With his heart beating at a million miles per hour, James lights a match and throws it onto the Witch-king, running away immediately afterwards, partly out of the now near-paralyzing fear and partly to avoid the lasting effects of the Witch-king's deadly aura, which James learned about from Elrond in addition to the Nazgûl's weakness of fire.
The match immediately consumes a portion of the Witch-king's jet-black robes in flames and causes him to panic and drop Éowyn, falling on his knees afterwards, frantically trying to put out the fire with his hands. After getting to a safe distance, James spots Merry running towards the distracted Witch-king, who then stabs him in the leg, causing the Witch-king to emit his trademark ear-shriveling shrieks and cease his twitching, falling onto his stomach as the wound fizzes in white, disintegrating Merry's weapon and causing him to scream and fall down onto the ground, although he only appears to be unconscious.
After that, Éowyn finds the strength to stand up and throws off her helmet, revealing her long golden hair and declaring, "I am no man," as the Witch-king weakly lifts his head up to face her, his aura weakening and unable to do much more. She then shouts and thrusts her sword into the Witch-king's head, causing even more white light to spill out as the Witch-king emits one last ear-shriveling scream of pain. Éowyn pulls out her disintegrating sword and collapses as white dust gathers around the Witch-king's head, his helmet imploding on itself as the Witch-king essentially disappears, leaving nothing but dark robes and remnants of steel armor.
With the Witch-king gone, James promptly starts running over to Éowyn, who is crawling on the ground, severely weakened from her fight with the Witch-king. "Merry! James!" calls Éowyn as a wounded orc roars around 20 metres behind her. As she crawls away, the orc grabs a warhammer and limps over to Éowyn; however, James finds them and shoots the orc in the head twice, causing it to fall to the ground. Just for reassurance, he shoots one more bullet into the corpse before he reloads, just to shoot two more bullets into the head. Immediately after, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli run over to them, killing several more orcs heading their way.
Meanwhile, James turns his attention over to Éowyn, who is lying on the ground without the strength to stand up. "Éowyn!" he shouts as he takes out his medical kit and runs over to where she is lying on the ground.
"Somebody cover us!" James shouts again out of desperation.
Only seconds later, Aragorn comes over to James and Éowyn and says to James, "Your cover is already here. Look around you."
Aragorn then cuts down several orcs fleeing from a threat unknown to them. James turns his gaze to the battlefield and finds a massive green force surrounding and massacring all the orcs they touch, appearing to be composed of the ghosts of men and horses. The orcs appear to be frightened by them, ignoring James and Éowyn and running off in flocks towards the east, luckily away from James' damaged Spitfire, which is sitting nearly 10 miles north of Minas Tirith. What kind of army could those green ghosts be?
"James... you're bleeding," Éowyn mutters weakly.
"I am?" James returns his attention to Éowyn and touches his fingers to his forehead, finding a crimson red stain on his fingertips. "Well, that isn't my main concern for now, as I'll need to get you patched up first."
"Thank you... for coming," says Éowyn, who somehow still has the energy to smile. "However, I need to know... how did you survive—"
Just then, Éowyn faints from exhaustion, the effect of the Witch-king's black breath taking a toll on her.
"Éowyn? Éowyn!" shouts James in alarm. He turns her over on her back to check for her pulse and breathing. "Oh thank goodness, she's still got a pulse, though it's weak. She's not breathing though."
He then checks for bodily trauma. "Bloody hell, her left arm's all buggered up! Other than that, I don't think anything else is broken."
Working as quickly as possible, James takes off Éowyn's left gauntlet and rolls back her sleeve to prepare the cast. He takes out his brew and pours some on the plaster gauze, then forms a cast around her arm with the gauze, letting it harden after smoothing it out. Not knowing what else to do, James desperately prepares a syringe filled with the athelas brew, removes her right gauntlet, rolls back the sleeve on Éowyn's right arm, and wipes it down with an alcohol wipe. He then notices a set of black patterns appearing on Éowyn's right arm and immediately injects the athelas brew into her arm. Around 20 seconds later, Éowyn begins to audibly breathe as her eyes flutter open and the black patterns on her arm start to disappear, revived by a combination of modern and ancient medicine.
"James? Am I dead?"
"No, Éowyn. You're very much alive, but we need to get you out of here. The battlefield is the perfect place for disease to spread."
Éowyn notices the medical supplies near James' hands, the cast on her arm, and the syringe mark. "I owe you for saving my life."
"Eh, it's just a part of my job," replies James. Noticing a stray orc making its way towards them, James shoots it in the stomach twice before it collapses.
"I think we're winning," says James as he gazes out towards the battlefield, seeing Rohirrim clearing out large paths of orcs, a Mosquito shooting at the last Mûmakil, and the green ghost army flooding the besieged city of Minas Tirith and slaughtering the remaining orcs in the city, finally relieved after two long days of intense and bloody fighting. Glancing towards the sky, he can see three Spitfires and three Mosquitoes receding from the skies of Minas Tirith, being joined by the fourth Mosquito which had just finished off the last Mûmakil.
Looking back, James notices that Éowyn has started crawling, who then runs over to where she is crawling and sees that Théoden is lying there as well, with a mourning Éowyn over him. James briefly checks for Théoden's pulse before realising that there's nothing he can do to save him, feeling major organ trauma in Théoden's body. Instead, he sits at Théoden's side, next to Éowyn.
"I know your face… Éowyn," croaks the dying Théoden, whose face is being stroked by Éowyn. "My eyes darken."
"No. No. I am going to save you," whispers Éowyn.
"You already did," Théoden replies weakly as his face grows paler.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do for His Majesty," says James with a hint of hopelessness.
Théoden agrees with James' judgement. "Éowyn, my body is broken. You have to let me go. I go to my fathers, in whose mighty company, I shall not now feel ashamed. Éowyn…"
Théoden passes on from that moment as Éowyn realises that he is dead, causing tears to fall from her eyes while she hugs Théoden's body desperately, weeping in pure grief. James allows her to grieve, having experienced it himself when nearly four years ago, a close friend was shot down and killed during the Dunkirk evacuation. After some time, Éowyn lifts herself up from Théoden's body and buries herself in James, who is initially surprised, but then tries to comfort Éowyn with a reassuring arm around her shoulder, then two. She then releases herself from James and sits there silently, contemplating her life now that her wish for battle was fulfilled, but her king gone. In the distance, the green ghost army, assembled before Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Gandalf, disappears, their oaths fulfilled and their souls put to rest.
Around 10 minutes later, a team of Gondorians arrives carrying a wooden stretcher as Éomer arrives to witness the scene, worried for his sister's life. Éowyn is precariously lifted on top of the stretcher and hurried to the sixth level of Minas Tirith, where the Houses of Healing are located, followed by James as more soldiers are carried along on stretchers up Minas Tirith's levels. Reaching the Houses of Healing, James urges Éowyn to rest, knowing that her left arm has not healed completely. Nonetheless, Éowyn gathers the strength to stand up from the stretcher, much to the relief of a nervous Éomer, who even then still shows some concern for her health.
After approximately more than an hour, James hears the sounds of plane engines outside of Minas Tirith, looking outside and spotting two Dakotas making a landing approach towards an empty part of the Pelennor Fields. Feeling confident that Éowyn can experience a stable recovery, James heads off to gather supplies from the two Dakotas which have just arrived outside of Minas Tirith and have landed on a part of the Pelennor Fields not covered in bodies. A minute later, the Jeep arrives at the landing site, its occupants left unharmed even after the bloody battle.
James meets the crew exiting the aircraft and the crew in the Jeep with a brief exchange of salutes. "All right then, take these supplies and follow me."
"Yes, sir." The crewmen carry the medical supplies out of each Dakota. Dr. Larry Stewart, RAF Fairfield's official medical practitioner alongside James, the unofficial medical practitioner, exits one of the Dakotas and runs up to meet James.
"Good day, sir." Larry then notices James' tattered and dirtied clothes, the revolver hanging around his neck, and the blood trickling from his head. "Bloody hell, what must have happened to you?"
"Oh, I was shot down and got a little involved with the fighting on the ground."
"You might want to see me for that head wound later. Anyways, I've heard that there are many that lie wounded in the city. These supplies should help us save as many lives as possible."
"Of course, Doctor. I've already worked on one patient. Follow me to the sixth level, that's where many of the wounded are right now."
"Sir!" calls a crewman, who James turns to face. "This is about your damaged Spitfire. A Dakota had found the crash site following your instructions and ground crewmen had gotten to work with fixing it. The area was mostly empty, except for a few stragglers that were quickly picked off by the riflemen defending the crash site. It should be all fixed up within the next few days."
"That's very fortunate. Tell them I said cheers."
With that, James, Larry, and the other personnel carry their supplies to the sixth level of Minas Tirith, arriving at the Houses of Healing soon after. There, James receives some bandages for his head injury, which luckily doesn't appear to be infected. They then set up individual stations of care, treating various injuries from broken bones to slash wounds. Their work lasts throughout the entire day, attending to Gondorians, Rohirrim, and British in need of medical care. Ground casualties are considerable: one British soldier, one-fourth of all Gondorian soldiers, and one-fifth of all Rohirric soldiers have all died, with many more sustaining injuries of various levels of severity. However, this was the price to be paid for the victory of the Free Peoples at Minas Tirith, who now saw the possibility of winning the war as an achievable goal, rather than a distant hope.