...
~ The Assault Begins ~
At Osgiliath she arrived and passed through the ruins of the ancient city easily; if any of the men noticed her they paid no heed, for those who were not injured were weary and busy tending to the infirm and fallen, already very high in number. The fighting was a ways down on the river banks beyond the wall, with a few dozen archers busy upon the wall supporting the swordsmen on the ground.
Elraen ascended to the top of the wall, not far from the gate to the river, and stood in a little nook of an outcropping near a tower, her grey cape closed about her, and few if any noticed her under the black sky. She closed her eyes and focused on the journeys of the waters and the winds, and before long nearly all combatants couldn't help but notice the river tide strangely beginning to rise and the wind speeding up sharply, pushing downstream from the north. The current picked up and boats began to stray, pushed down the river and back to the eastern bank, thus she was able to slow their progress of numbers crossing considerably at least.
Understanding that she was not to offer too much help to the poor men engaged in the gruesome chaos of battle upon the field, she did little more than give such obscure changes to the weather for most of that day, which she gradually increased in intensity through the night. She could perceive clearly the Witch King hidden somewhere on the east side of the river, and bent her thought to him, but even when he let out his shriek she made no open move as yet. In her heart she had a feeling that her moment to step out uncloaked before the enemy would arrive soon.
Faramir had fought long upon the fields that descended down to the banks. In the hours before dawn there was at last a lull in the attack as the boats were having trouble with the current, he at last retreated to the friendly side of the wall.
Coming through the gate he set about organizing the wains and ordered them to start the journey back toward Minas Tirith. He climbed the stairs of the wall and there found Elraen at the top. By now she had grown quite warm, and her hood was off. However he still had almost missed her but for the sight of her thick braid of black hair which he caught at the corner of his eye as he headed for the watchtower close by.
"Mistress! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, astonished to see her at all, nevermind standing there alone.
She looked over at him with a bewildering calm on her face. "Mithrandir asked me to come help you," she replied softly. He looked back at her in his weary grief, confused, curious about what sort of help she could possibly provide in this hopeless mess. He looked upon her, a head shorter than he, and still so young in appearance that he fought his first thoughts to send her back at once. But he also knew the wizard's decisions were rumored to often seem odd and out of place and that it was of little use to question him over it. He thought of the enemy's struggles with the odd confusion of the river currents and whiplashed direction of the wind, and wondered how long she had been standing there.
Elraen now looked at him, and her face grew grave. For he looked very weary and ill at ease. "Are you unwell?" she asked.
Before he could reply the blood curdling shrieks of the winged steeds of the Nazgul tore through the air from far above. The girl let out a gasp, searching the skies. Faramir couldn't help but grip the ledge of the wall in alarm, and men remaining on the wall jumped in a start.
Elraen stood looking up at the returned foes high up in the sky, thinking of what help she could do with the weather here. She managed to start some thunder and lightning nearby. Subtly the young enchantress held out her hands, and as before a strong wind pushed up under the creatures' wings. They backed away for a while again, keeping high up in the sky, for their dimmed wraith view saw a flame flickering, eyes gleaming white, and would not go too near. She raised a hand by her face, and lightning struck down, very near to their wretched steeds, and they became occupied with dodging it.
*.*.*
Back at the White City the messenger arrived with news of the battle at Osgiliath. He turned to Gandalf, "Your companion, the enchanted maiden, she seems to help slow their crossing, but she is hard put to it, like the rest of us. There are just too many," he said, "too many."
*.*.*
After a while Gandalf showed up to help; while there he was often tending to the infirm. While he was there Elraen took some light rest in one of the towers as well as she could manage - as she had been standing there for a full day and half. After just an hour she could take no more sleep and rejoined her comrade. For the next few hours the taunting continued, as the enemy swarms still struggled against the current in their boats. Finally the enchanters' efforts seemed to avail some, for the beasts at last flew off for the time being.
"I should return with the injured," Gandalf said. "You may come with me if you are weary."
"I shall stay, and continue my task," she replied.
The wizard nodded. "Try to keep him from lingering too long, if you can prevail upon him," he told her, "it would be useless for him to perish here." She nodded in reply, and off he went.
For a while the lull in the fighting held as the enemies scrambled to remaster their boats. Elraen went down to help gather up stray enemy arrows scattered about the ruins of the old city and brought many dozens to the top of the stairs. Faramir organized the few remaining men upon the wall, spread out as far as he dared. At this point the fight continued mostly just to allow the wains time to reach the city. Elraen also took Sunstreak to round up what horses remained nearby, which were also few.
Then the sound of the enemy clamour grew suddenly from across the river. The next wave of attack was starting. "Try to keep them from fleeing, my friend," she said quietly to the stout yellow mare, then dashed up the steps.
She saw the enemy forces had swollen innumerably upon the opposite bank. Barges laden with many rowers were now approaching the hither shore in great numbers. Farther away to both the north and south of them more boats had reached the near bank and were swarming up the banks. Then far across the river they could see the crowds hushing and backing away from the road leading down to the river, and she saw it: the Nazgul Captain, now on horseback, riding up out of the blackness. The masses of enemy troops parted fearfully and men froze upon the wall's ramparts.
The other Nazgul returned upon their flying beasts, swooping down again, now getting ever nearer. Elraen summoned out the wand to her hand as Faramir loosed his last arrow at the Lieutenant, but missed. She thought of Gandalf's ray of light, drawing on the great fire, and a glow shone from her hand like a glittering globe. Then she waved the wand at the enemies in the sky, and sparks of light, like that from the trail of fireworks, shot up toward them, and upon the river from bank to bank lightning shot down upon them from the sky, and they backed off and scattered away.
Just then they heard a fierce explosion blasting off to the south that shook the wall under their feet. Elraen stumbled, dropping the wand upon the ledge as she caught herself with her right hand upon the ramparts. Quickly taking her wand in her left hand she flicked her hand toward the enemy hoard across the river, and the wind blew so fierce that the winged steeds were pushed far back across the river toward the feet of the mountains, and the Black Captain's horse bowed his head wincing against the gale, and many great boats were pushed back again toward the farther shore.
The blasting continued along the wall a ways off to the north and south where the enemies had now reached the western shore, and the floor of the ramparts continued to shake underneath their feet. All the while the Captain of Despair was sitting patiently on his horse on the other bank, watching her, as the pieces of great boat bridges were carried up from behind to be rapidly assembled, and waiting for just the right moment to cross, to make a nice show of winning the river here at Osgiliath.
"Go, Faramir! Now!" Elraen cried to the Captain. "I will catch up to you," she added.
With a wide wave of her right arm another wind, vast and sweeping, came pushing upstream from far off in the south, confusing the current mightily to the dismay of the rowers and boat captains. Smaller boats capsized and the barges swayed violently. But more were getting ready for launch, and the enemy's forces continued to grow in a great extended mass along the shore. Elraen remembered Gandalf's words about keeping the enemy distracted and not driving Sauron's attention back to within his borders. She let the wind die down.
For his part the Great Enemy upon his tower could not avoid noticing her now, harder to miss than the noon sun over the deserts of Harad. She perplexed him no end, for the wand he knew not, but the sword he did, and not least the gleaming white armor which he knew to be elf-wrought in the West, that looked aflame in its own light as she stood there facing the storm of his onslaught. It was plain enough that here at least was another heir of the kingdoms he so hated, maybe lesser in rank and stature than the other, elf-like but certainly no elf, yet still mighty over mind and element as the powerful among the Wise. His mind ventured indeed many theories, a child of the Kings somehow gifted with powers of spell over nature, or some other descendant of mingled men and elves, and not least that she may somehow be yet another emissary out of the West, though he could only venture guesses at who. These thoughts confused and dismayed his calculations mightily. Thus were the Dark Lord and his Ringwraiths focused on Minas Tirith and Osgiliath all the more, with little heed to either the East Road or the river out of Belfalas. (And for her part she could feel the attention of the great Eye likewise bearing down upon her like the southern sun at noon, and Gandalf's reasoning suddenly became more clear to her.)
This spectacle also escaped the notice of none of the remaining forces upon the wall. Faramir standing near stared a moment in wonder, thinking of old legends of magic practitioners of ancient Gondor, who would take up residence in places like Isengard to practice spells and study the stars. But something about her seemed more powerful than the characters in those stories, far more powerful, as if she wielded the ageless powers that wrought the world itself. 'Wizard's apprentice, indeed!' he thought to himself.
With that the Captain of Gondor finally signaled the retreat. Shortly after, Elraen also gave up the resistance at the river, and she rode a ways behind the Captain's company, her cloak close about her but her shield on her arm and her helm and gauntlets donned, ever trying to keep watch over the Captain. Meanwhile she also kept her mind on the river crossing, and every so often renewing the rush of water from the north, and the flow of wind from the south, as it seemed the most effective in slowing the enemy's passage.
The remaining Gondoran soldiers grew steadily closer to the gates as the Haradrim swarmed the fields carrying their torches. Elraen's wind only seemed to grow their flames, and in the thick hot air here away from the river under Mordor's blanket of blackness it was difficult to summon much rain.
The horsemen of the Haradrim charged up from behind, and the rearguard turned to keep them at bay. Elraen trotting up last behind them turned her horse about, and with the little wand glowing in hand gave a swift wave of her arm. A stiff wind blew fierce enough to blow out the torches of the foremost among their enemies charging. This was enough to startle many among them and give them pause - enough of a pause for the cavalry of Gondor to push them back with a fierce onslaught of arrows, and the Haradrim slowed their attack, taken aback by the resistance.
But that's when the Nazgul Lieutenant and his comrades came again swooping down upon the them, and all went astray. Again horses scattered and men were thrown to the ground, but this time enemy forces were charging in from nearly all directions. Elraen was at a loss amid the chaos - she had suddenly lost sight of Faramir. After a few moments of frantic searching she spotted him a ways off from the group, facing down a Harad champion, and she dashed up toward him. Too late: the dart struck, and he fell, just as Gandalf had come forth to again drive back the Nazgul, just as the sortie had issued from the gates.
She let out a cry of dismay. The champion started to rush in with his comrades toward the fallen captain. She threw up her hand as Sunstreak reached them, and lightning came crashing down close to where the foes stood. Sunstreak stood over Faramir where he lay as some among the enemy hesitated, and several fled, but the champion remained, so eager was he to despoil the defeated opponent. For what felt like a very long moment they glared at each other, the princess and the champion - it could have been an hour, or it could have been the catch of a breath. But the fierce champion was so fearless he stood undaunted by the fire gleaming in her eyes visible at that moment even to mortals.
At last the sortie reached them and charged into the line of opposing foes. "Prince Imrahil!" she cried as she pulled out her wand, "Take him and go!" The horsemen of Gondor broke against the wall of Haradrim and at last they began to scatter. The Prince came about and jumped down to scoop up the Captain onto his horse and raced off to the gates. She took her wand and with a flick of her hand a keen blast of air whipped at their faces and sent dirt up stinging their eyes, and she at last turned to dash away after the others.