Teonvan looked over the flowing, green fields below him. His skin was
dark and rough from the elements, but his eyes were gentle and look like
warm desert sand. The armor he wore on his breast bore the tree. This man,
Teonvan, was a warrior of Gondor.
"Men, we head out," a general's voice commanded. Teonvan whipped his head around as if being waken from a dream. The wind swept his rich, brown hair over his face. He pulled it back, grabbed his shield, and got into line.
"Daydreaming again?" his friend Hador said with a grin. Teonvan had known him wince he was a care-free boy. They were always together, an inseperatable bond held them together, one like that of brotherhood. "Soon we will be home, my friend. Back where we belong. Back in the glory of Gondor," Teonvan replied.
The army marched all day, along the edges of Fangorn until they reached the southern ends of the Misty Mountains. They were headed back to Gondor, to aide the White City against Sauron's evil troops. Camp was set for the night in the hills of Rohan. A cliff lingered nearby, the foot of the mountains not fifty yards from where they were. The men went to their tents early, for the days ahead would be full of walking long leagues each day.
Teonvan crawled into his small, canvas tent and rested his head on his cloak which he had bunched into a make-do pillow. There was a small hole in the top of his tent and the moonlight flooded in through it. Teonvan glanced over at his armor which shown brightly, the tree of Gondor proudly glowed in the light. Teonvan turned away from it and fell asleep thinking of home.
In the middle of the night, Teonvan woke with a start. Something felt odd, not quite right. He got out of the tent and looked around, though everything seemed normal. Teonvan turned around to get back in his tent for a few more hours' rest when he saw it. An army of Uruk-Hi bearing the white hand of Sarumon stood along the foot of the mountains. There were at least three hundred of them, more than twice as many as the Gondorian warriors. For a moment Teonvan froze, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Then he yelled, "Wake, warriors! The time of battle is here!" Men looked out of their tents, and as they saw the Uruk-Hi drawing nearer, they grabbed their swords and shields, ready to fight. Teonvan pulled the sword of his father out of its sheath and grabbed his shield too. His heart was racing, his mind was numb. The Uruk-Hi drew nearer and nearer. Teonvan's mind went blank. He faintly heard someone's cry of "Charge!" and ran to face the army of monsters in front of him.
The sound of metal clashing was everywhere. Teonvan's sword met another, and the figure holding it growled fiercely. Teonvan tried to strike the Uruk's leg, but the Uruk's sword was faster. As Teonvan went to strike for the creature's chest, it struck out and sliced a wound in Teonvan's side. Soon his tunic was a rich, dark red. With all his strength he thrusted his word at the Uruk-Hi's neck and it's gruesome, grinning head fell to the ground.
Over the din of the fight Teonvan heard a cry of help form behind him. He turned quickly and saw Hador lying close to the cliff. His arm was lying not far from where the rest of his body lay. Teonvan sprinted over to help his wounded friend.
"Hador, we must get you away from here, away from this danger!" Teonvan said as he ripped the sleeve off the amputated arm and tried to stop the blood from streaming out of Hador's shoulder. Suddenly, a sword came crashing down through Hador's chest. His eyes were lifeless, yet filled with pain. Teonvan glanced upward and saw an Uruk-Hi pull its sword from his friend's chest. Teonvan stood up, ready to battle. The Uruk waved its sword violently around, not aiming for any particular part of Teonvan, just hoping to hit him. Teonvan backed away, his sword drawn, but not sure what to do with it against the insane beast. As he stepped back, he went over the cliff, for he had forgotten it was there. Teonvan fell through the air, his mind pulsing with thoughts of his childhood, of his home in the White City. Then he hit the ground, and everything went dark.
"Men, we head out," a general's voice commanded. Teonvan whipped his head around as if being waken from a dream. The wind swept his rich, brown hair over his face. He pulled it back, grabbed his shield, and got into line.
"Daydreaming again?" his friend Hador said with a grin. Teonvan had known him wince he was a care-free boy. They were always together, an inseperatable bond held them together, one like that of brotherhood. "Soon we will be home, my friend. Back where we belong. Back in the glory of Gondor," Teonvan replied.
The army marched all day, along the edges of Fangorn until they reached the southern ends of the Misty Mountains. They were headed back to Gondor, to aide the White City against Sauron's evil troops. Camp was set for the night in the hills of Rohan. A cliff lingered nearby, the foot of the mountains not fifty yards from where they were. The men went to their tents early, for the days ahead would be full of walking long leagues each day.
Teonvan crawled into his small, canvas tent and rested his head on his cloak which he had bunched into a make-do pillow. There was a small hole in the top of his tent and the moonlight flooded in through it. Teonvan glanced over at his armor which shown brightly, the tree of Gondor proudly glowed in the light. Teonvan turned away from it and fell asleep thinking of home.
In the middle of the night, Teonvan woke with a start. Something felt odd, not quite right. He got out of the tent and looked around, though everything seemed normal. Teonvan turned around to get back in his tent for a few more hours' rest when he saw it. An army of Uruk-Hi bearing the white hand of Sarumon stood along the foot of the mountains. There were at least three hundred of them, more than twice as many as the Gondorian warriors. For a moment Teonvan froze, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. Then he yelled, "Wake, warriors! The time of battle is here!" Men looked out of their tents, and as they saw the Uruk-Hi drawing nearer, they grabbed their swords and shields, ready to fight. Teonvan pulled the sword of his father out of its sheath and grabbed his shield too. His heart was racing, his mind was numb. The Uruk-Hi drew nearer and nearer. Teonvan's mind went blank. He faintly heard someone's cry of "Charge!" and ran to face the army of monsters in front of him.
The sound of metal clashing was everywhere. Teonvan's sword met another, and the figure holding it growled fiercely. Teonvan tried to strike the Uruk's leg, but the Uruk's sword was faster. As Teonvan went to strike for the creature's chest, it struck out and sliced a wound in Teonvan's side. Soon his tunic was a rich, dark red. With all his strength he thrusted his word at the Uruk-Hi's neck and it's gruesome, grinning head fell to the ground.
Over the din of the fight Teonvan heard a cry of help form behind him. He turned quickly and saw Hador lying close to the cliff. His arm was lying not far from where the rest of his body lay. Teonvan sprinted over to help his wounded friend.
"Hador, we must get you away from here, away from this danger!" Teonvan said as he ripped the sleeve off the amputated arm and tried to stop the blood from streaming out of Hador's shoulder. Suddenly, a sword came crashing down through Hador's chest. His eyes were lifeless, yet filled with pain. Teonvan glanced upward and saw an Uruk-Hi pull its sword from his friend's chest. Teonvan stood up, ready to battle. The Uruk waved its sword violently around, not aiming for any particular part of Teonvan, just hoping to hit him. Teonvan backed away, his sword drawn, but not sure what to do with it against the insane beast. As he stepped back, he went over the cliff, for he had forgotten it was there. Teonvan fell through the air, his mind pulsing with thoughts of his childhood, of his home in the White City. Then he hit the ground, and everything went dark.
