This was written in answer to the onlist HA Banner Challenge:
In honor of Bastille Day and the Fourth of July, and of patriotic holidays in general, Chris sent the following proposal:
"There are so many banners in LOTR, I was wondering if a holiday challenge could be issued for folks to write standard bearer stories, or the sight of seeing a banner flying, etc. The range is huge and it doesn't necessarily have to be about war, just a 'patriotic' theme."
Rohan, Gondor, Sauron's forces at Eregion, Khand, Harad, Elendil, Imrahil, the Stewards, Aragorn—some places and people with banners we know of; there were doubtless many more we can assume existed.
Disclaimer: Arda and its inhabitants belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Author's note: Thanks to my beta, Jenna. All errors are my own.
My captain has chosen me to be the standard bearer. I am too young to be given a sword, apparently. Too young to kill. Yet I want to. The host of Morgoth has attacked our realm and I want to defend it.
I am too young to defend my home, and so I was given this piece of fabric to held. The arms of Turgon Fingolfin's son, High King of the Noldor, King of Gondolin: "the moon and the sun and the scarlet heart". The sun is Finwë's obviously, and I think that the heart is Fingolfin's, but I have no idea what the moon is doing on this banner. Shouldn't they have explained to me what the symbols stand for before they asked me to display them?
Ai! another group of orcs! Will they ever stop coming? Has Morgoth such an endless supply of them? Um, not so sure I want an answer to that . . .
I am getting afraid. Is it possible that Morgoth could win? Ah Elbereth! Say it is not so! Is fair Gongolin to be defiled by the orcs? I shudder to think what they could do to the Hidden City, what they have probably already done . . .
We are now surrounded and our number is dwindling. Well, I did wish to enter the action, didn't I? I pick up a sword and huddles closer to the King, as do the others. My sword is hard to use with that standard in the other hand. My balance is not good.
Yet I cannot set it down. It is our last pride, the symbol of our King, our land, our people. To let it fall would be to admit defeat.
And so I go on hacking on both sides while I try to bear our standard as high and straight as possible. We are so few now, and the orcs so numerous.
I feel intense pain in my belly, and my sight becomes a red blur. I try to hold up, but in vain. I fall on my knees, but I am still holding the standard.
Another flash of pain in my shoulder. I fall forward, and I cannot prevent my hand from opening. My head hit the ground, hard. Dimly, distantly, I see our flag falling down, reddened with blood, trampled by orcish feet.
I close my eyes. Forgive me, my King, for I have failed.
The rest of the entries for this challenge can be found here:
http:// www.henneth-annun.net/ challenge/ entries_view.cfm?NGID=97