CHAPTER 2
TWIST OF FATE
Swiftly, Imrahil, Hirluin, and Forlong rode forward with their men behind them.
Hirluin heard a great, sickening wail and felt the terrible darkness he had felt for weeks fall away.
"The Morgul King is gone! The city yet stands!" yelled Imrahil.
Hirluin then saw the riders led by a young man with a white tail flowing from his helm.
He did not have much to look for even now, his green-clad men and their comrades were being swarmed by orcs. Hirluin saw right in front of him, a tall and dark Uruk of Mordor. Who appeared to be a captain of some sort. The orc attacked the horse but Hirluin fended it off with a blow from his sword along the orc's back, but that only managed to graze and further enrage the creature. Hirluin was pulled from his horse, but he stood up and thrust his sword into the orc's belly.
He looked for Forlong or Prince Imrahil. They were nowhere to be seen in the melee of battle. A knight of Rohan, Herubrand was his name fell dead beside him. He lifted up the corpse and recognized a Southron arrow, protruding from the dead man's chest.
The Southrons were coming over a small ridge, firing as they went. Hirluin was able to organize a rabble of 20 Gondorians and 15 Rohirrim for a charge. They flung themselves at the men of Harad. Hirluin wrestled one to the ground and slit his throat and thrust his sword into the chest of the dying man's comrade.
The Haradrim archers were for the first time being quelled. Hirluin saw them retreating over the ridge, but he had forgotten the orcs. They surround the ridge, forcing Hirluin and his men on top of it.
All of his small group were killed, save for three men of Rohan. When he swiftly inquired, Hirluin learned their names as Harding, Grimbold, and Herefara. "Well, Harding, Grimbold, Herefara, let men sing that we have died here with honour."
They fought and died well. Grimbold took down 10 before an orc spear found his neck. Then Harding, he took 7 until his sword broke. He fought on with a broken spear haft until a Southron arrow found his back. Herefara and Hirluin stood alone, Knight of Rohan and Lord of Gondor fighting to the bitter end, fighting off the orcs ably until Herefara was stabbed through the ribs by an orcish scimitar. He fell to the ground.
Hirluin finally was stabbed through the stomach. The orcs moved on for the press of battle called them. "Where do you come from?" inquired the dying lord of Pinnath Gelin.
Herefara responded: "The Eastfold of Rohan, my father died some time ago and left me the farm. I married two years ago and have twins, a son and a daughter. Who will care for them now? Whence come you, sir?"
"I am Hirluin of the Green Hills of Pinnath Gelin. Ah, the hills are beautiful this time of year in the spring. Seeing children skipping through their vales. Alas that I shall never look upon them again. I too have a young wife, but no children. Herefara, I see something in the distance: Black ships!"
"Corsairs?" moaned the Knight of Rohan.
"No, no, for I see it! The White Tree flies once more in Gondor! See it!"
"Then it is good that it should be the last thing I see, farewell." Herefara died. Those were the last words Hirluin heard, for he too closed his eyes and fell into eternal sleep.
On the other side of the battlefield, Forlong the Fat had cloven into the Easterling lines with fire and fury, but as he drove into the Easterling rearguard, a man thrust his axe forward and cut down Forlong's mount, hurling him right into the centre of the Easterling line. He stood up in front of Ulwarth, their chief, with one swift chop, the Easterling chief fell dead at Forlong's feet. Five more fell to Forlong's axe until with fell swoop, a man cut deep into his chest. He died almost instantly.
On the field of Gondor, Imrahil had fought long and hard. He had separated himself from Forlong and Hirluin long enough to see a strange bier; the men of Rohan were carrying towards the city. He learned that it was a woman of Rohan: Eowyn by name. Imrahil discovered that she was alive, but her illustrious uncle was dead. He made sure that Eowyn would be tended to and thrust himself into the fray with Hurin the Tall, High Warden of the Keys of the City Gates and Guardian of the Gates, who was eager to avenge his slighted honour, and his 400 Guards of the Fountain. Together with Imrahil's 700 knights, they plowed through the Morgul host, unscathed, though heavily outnumbered, but the host of Mordor were too great to let them cleave their way towards the young captain of Rohan.
Imrahil, himself had crossed blades with the new Southron leader, whose name is lost in records. Theoden had slain their first leader and hewed down his banner, but the Southrons were far from routed. In fact their mumakil made horsemanship very difficult. He hacked down the Southron leader and desperately with Hurin at his side tried to cleave their way through to the young captain of the Rohirrim.
Death was King that day. Sometimes a Knight of Dol Amroth would find himself surrounded by orcs and Southrons, then pulled from his horse and savagely hacked to pieces. At other times a lone Southron would hurl himself at a group of eight Rohirrim knights and would be cut down like a dog.
Hurin and Imrahil were tempted many times to just give up and die, but they both knew in their heart of hearts that it would be better to die with a bloodied sword than an unbloodied one. Imrahil knew though, that if no help came, then their valour would be in vain.
It was then, even as Herefara and Hirluin the Fair lay dying, that Black Ships approached. Imrahil was just about to throw his sword to the ground, when all of a sudden a new banner was unfurled: The White Tree of Gondor!
Rather than throwing their swords to the ground, Imrahil and Hurin thrust their swords into the air, yelling, "Elendil lives! Gondor yet stands! Forward and show the Southrons the metal of Gondorian steel!" They then watched amazed, as a man they had never seen in their lives, tall and clothed in green and grey, leading an army of men from the South, behind him also were Dunedain rangers of the north and an Elf and Dwarf also. Elendil he was and yet not Elendil. For though he bore the blade renewed and the Banner of the White Tree, he was clothed in the common garb of a ranger from the North.
Even as they marvelled at the strange newcomer's appearance and an Elf and Dwarf appearing together, (a sight, which had not been seen in Gondor for an age), Imrahil and Hurin gained a new inspiration and thrust themselves with a new vigour deep into the lines of the Southrons, like a firestorm. There, they met the Chief of the Rangers and the Captain of the Rohirrim, whose names they learned as Aragorn son of Arathorn and Eomer son of Eomund of Rohan.
"My lords", said Hurin, "You have saved this city. Gondor yet stands!"
"Indeed," said Eomer, "Yet there is much yet to do. Look! Orcs and Easterlings are massing on that hillock!"
Aragorn lifted up his sword. "Elendil!" he screamed and broke upon the orcish horde. Imrahil, Hurin, Eomer with their men, followed swiftly and together they drove the Easterlings and Orcs away from the hill.
The men of Gondor and Rohan joined together for one final push. The archers' arrows had felled the mumakil of the Southrons.
Aragorn saw the banner of Minas Morgul still flying in the breeze. He nodded to Eomer, Imrahil, and Hurin and they rode ahead of their men to hack it down, yet Gothmog, the new Captain of the Morgul host stood in their way.
The four men circled the orc. The orc lunged at Eomer; yet it stopped and let out a howl of pain as a well-aimed knife from Hurin found its back. "For the honour of the citadel!" Hurin yelled. "The honour of Dol Amroth!" yelled the Prince as he stabbed Gothmog in the stomach. "The honour of the Riddermark and Theoden King!" bellowed Eomer as he decapitated the orc. "The honour of the Dunedain!" cried Aragorn as he hacked down the banner of Minas Morgul and threw it in the dirt. Their horses trod on the fallen banner.
The Morgul host was now reduced to a handful of orcs, Easterlings, and Southrons, fleeing and desperately looking for cover. Some, when about to be ridden down fought to the death, and others, driven mad by their despair flung themselves into the river, but sank like stones, save for a few light armoured Southrons who made their way home from the fields of Pelennor.
TWIST OF FATE
Swiftly, Imrahil, Hirluin, and Forlong rode forward with their men behind them.
Hirluin heard a great, sickening wail and felt the terrible darkness he had felt for weeks fall away.
"The Morgul King is gone! The city yet stands!" yelled Imrahil.
Hirluin then saw the riders led by a young man with a white tail flowing from his helm.
He did not have much to look for even now, his green-clad men and their comrades were being swarmed by orcs. Hirluin saw right in front of him, a tall and dark Uruk of Mordor. Who appeared to be a captain of some sort. The orc attacked the horse but Hirluin fended it off with a blow from his sword along the orc's back, but that only managed to graze and further enrage the creature. Hirluin was pulled from his horse, but he stood up and thrust his sword into the orc's belly.
He looked for Forlong or Prince Imrahil. They were nowhere to be seen in the melee of battle. A knight of Rohan, Herubrand was his name fell dead beside him. He lifted up the corpse and recognized a Southron arrow, protruding from the dead man's chest.
The Southrons were coming over a small ridge, firing as they went. Hirluin was able to organize a rabble of 20 Gondorians and 15 Rohirrim for a charge. They flung themselves at the men of Harad. Hirluin wrestled one to the ground and slit his throat and thrust his sword into the chest of the dying man's comrade.
The Haradrim archers were for the first time being quelled. Hirluin saw them retreating over the ridge, but he had forgotten the orcs. They surround the ridge, forcing Hirluin and his men on top of it.
All of his small group were killed, save for three men of Rohan. When he swiftly inquired, Hirluin learned their names as Harding, Grimbold, and Herefara. "Well, Harding, Grimbold, Herefara, let men sing that we have died here with honour."
They fought and died well. Grimbold took down 10 before an orc spear found his neck. Then Harding, he took 7 until his sword broke. He fought on with a broken spear haft until a Southron arrow found his back. Herefara and Hirluin stood alone, Knight of Rohan and Lord of Gondor fighting to the bitter end, fighting off the orcs ably until Herefara was stabbed through the ribs by an orcish scimitar. He fell to the ground.
Hirluin finally was stabbed through the stomach. The orcs moved on for the press of battle called them. "Where do you come from?" inquired the dying lord of Pinnath Gelin.
Herefara responded: "The Eastfold of Rohan, my father died some time ago and left me the farm. I married two years ago and have twins, a son and a daughter. Who will care for them now? Whence come you, sir?"
"I am Hirluin of the Green Hills of Pinnath Gelin. Ah, the hills are beautiful this time of year in the spring. Seeing children skipping through their vales. Alas that I shall never look upon them again. I too have a young wife, but no children. Herefara, I see something in the distance: Black ships!"
"Corsairs?" moaned the Knight of Rohan.
"No, no, for I see it! The White Tree flies once more in Gondor! See it!"
"Then it is good that it should be the last thing I see, farewell." Herefara died. Those were the last words Hirluin heard, for he too closed his eyes and fell into eternal sleep.
On the other side of the battlefield, Forlong the Fat had cloven into the Easterling lines with fire and fury, but as he drove into the Easterling rearguard, a man thrust his axe forward and cut down Forlong's mount, hurling him right into the centre of the Easterling line. He stood up in front of Ulwarth, their chief, with one swift chop, the Easterling chief fell dead at Forlong's feet. Five more fell to Forlong's axe until with fell swoop, a man cut deep into his chest. He died almost instantly.
On the field of Gondor, Imrahil had fought long and hard. He had separated himself from Forlong and Hirluin long enough to see a strange bier; the men of Rohan were carrying towards the city. He learned that it was a woman of Rohan: Eowyn by name. Imrahil discovered that she was alive, but her illustrious uncle was dead. He made sure that Eowyn would be tended to and thrust himself into the fray with Hurin the Tall, High Warden of the Keys of the City Gates and Guardian of the Gates, who was eager to avenge his slighted honour, and his 400 Guards of the Fountain. Together with Imrahil's 700 knights, they plowed through the Morgul host, unscathed, though heavily outnumbered, but the host of Mordor were too great to let them cleave their way towards the young captain of Rohan.
Imrahil, himself had crossed blades with the new Southron leader, whose name is lost in records. Theoden had slain their first leader and hewed down his banner, but the Southrons were far from routed. In fact their mumakil made horsemanship very difficult. He hacked down the Southron leader and desperately with Hurin at his side tried to cleave their way through to the young captain of the Rohirrim.
Death was King that day. Sometimes a Knight of Dol Amroth would find himself surrounded by orcs and Southrons, then pulled from his horse and savagely hacked to pieces. At other times a lone Southron would hurl himself at a group of eight Rohirrim knights and would be cut down like a dog.
Hurin and Imrahil were tempted many times to just give up and die, but they both knew in their heart of hearts that it would be better to die with a bloodied sword than an unbloodied one. Imrahil knew though, that if no help came, then their valour would be in vain.
It was then, even as Herefara and Hirluin the Fair lay dying, that Black Ships approached. Imrahil was just about to throw his sword to the ground, when all of a sudden a new banner was unfurled: The White Tree of Gondor!
Rather than throwing their swords to the ground, Imrahil and Hurin thrust their swords into the air, yelling, "Elendil lives! Gondor yet stands! Forward and show the Southrons the metal of Gondorian steel!" They then watched amazed, as a man they had never seen in their lives, tall and clothed in green and grey, leading an army of men from the South, behind him also were Dunedain rangers of the north and an Elf and Dwarf also. Elendil he was and yet not Elendil. For though he bore the blade renewed and the Banner of the White Tree, he was clothed in the common garb of a ranger from the North.
Even as they marvelled at the strange newcomer's appearance and an Elf and Dwarf appearing together, (a sight, which had not been seen in Gondor for an age), Imrahil and Hurin gained a new inspiration and thrust themselves with a new vigour deep into the lines of the Southrons, like a firestorm. There, they met the Chief of the Rangers and the Captain of the Rohirrim, whose names they learned as Aragorn son of Arathorn and Eomer son of Eomund of Rohan.
"My lords", said Hurin, "You have saved this city. Gondor yet stands!"
"Indeed," said Eomer, "Yet there is much yet to do. Look! Orcs and Easterlings are massing on that hillock!"
Aragorn lifted up his sword. "Elendil!" he screamed and broke upon the orcish horde. Imrahil, Hurin, Eomer with their men, followed swiftly and together they drove the Easterlings and Orcs away from the hill.
The men of Gondor and Rohan joined together for one final push. The archers' arrows had felled the mumakil of the Southrons.
Aragorn saw the banner of Minas Morgul still flying in the breeze. He nodded to Eomer, Imrahil, and Hurin and they rode ahead of their men to hack it down, yet Gothmog, the new Captain of the Morgul host stood in their way.
The four men circled the orc. The orc lunged at Eomer; yet it stopped and let out a howl of pain as a well-aimed knife from Hurin found its back. "For the honour of the citadel!" Hurin yelled. "The honour of Dol Amroth!" yelled the Prince as he stabbed Gothmog in the stomach. "The honour of the Riddermark and Theoden King!" bellowed Eomer as he decapitated the orc. "The honour of the Dunedain!" cried Aragorn as he hacked down the banner of Minas Morgul and threw it in the dirt. Their horses trod on the fallen banner.
The Morgul host was now reduced to a handful of orcs, Easterlings, and Southrons, fleeing and desperately looking for cover. Some, when about to be ridden down fought to the death, and others, driven mad by their despair flung themselves into the river, but sank like stones, save for a few light armoured Southrons who made their way home from the fields of Pelennor.