Chapter Nineteen
We rode at the back of the legion, trying to be unnoticable. I felt that any moment, one of the men on either side of me would notice my skirt, or the Hobbit sitting before me. That evening, the three of us camped a ways from the others.
"Do you know anywhere I could get some pants and leg armour?" I joked quietly. Eowyn grinned, and didn't answer.
We sat in silence for a moment, then Eowyn looked thoughtfully at me, and asked, "Can you sew?"
"A bit." I admitted.
"Wait here." she instructed, and walked off. She returned a few seconds later, carrying a small pouch made of coarse cloth, which she handed to me. Curiously, I opened it, and saw an assortment of needles, cloth, and thread. "Master Meriodoc, turn away, please." Eowyn began, Merry did so, and Eowyn continued, "Now, use your sword, and cut a slit up the front and back of your dress. Then you can sew them together like pants. It's not the ideal solution, but it's all I could come up with. I'll go help Merry make dinner." So saying, she went off.
"Alright" I called to her retreatng back, dismayed slightly, because I like my dress, but I realized I had to have my priorities first. Making sure I was in absolute privacy, I took off my armour and helmet, slipped out of my dress, and hurriedly cut the skirt.
I've never been good at sewing, but I sewed faster than I thought I ever could. In roughly ten minutes, I had stitched the skirt into a pair of loose pants. I put it on, and then felt like an idiot.
I felt like I was wearing a jumpsuit. Now, I've never been a slave to fashion, but I felt like I was some punk-freak in Middle Earth trying to rebirth the styles of the eighties. I ripped the seams around the waste, in hopes to make a two piece suit.
Fastening my belt around the pants that were now too loose, I felt more clothes-secure, in more ways than one. As I was putting on the breastplate, Eowyn and Merry reappeared. Merry was carrying a large pot of a steaming substance.
"We made stew." He announced, setting it down. Eowyn ladled the stew into three shallow bowls, and we ate our dinner quickly. The rabbit in the stew was still cold in the middle, but the carrots were just right, and the broth was good.
After dinner, we talked in low voices of battle until the moon rose to her zenith. Then we agreed to sleep.
.
In the early morning, we gathered with the rest of the Rohirrim, and listened to Theoden give his orders.
"We should reach Minas Tirith this afternoon," he began, "and when we do, I want all of you to order yourselves as you usually would in battle instances. Let us ride!" he cried, spurring Snowmane into a gallop. With a cheer, the rest of us followed.
We were closer to the white city than I had thought. The sun had not even fully risen before we were looking down upon the Pelennor Fields.
A battle raged already. Legions and legions of orcs swarmed beneath the city, catapulting fire and moving the great towers to the wall. I glanced at Osgiliath. It was in ruins, and seemed to be abandoned. All the action was on the fields.
My courage quavered. Theoden was speaking about bravery and strength, but I wasn't listening. My eyes were latched mesmerized on the firey battering ram approaching the great doors.
I gripped the reins of Brego, and looked over at Eowyn. She was smiling grimly. In front of her sat Merry, a look of determination on his face. I wondered if I looked as scared as I felt.
We charged. I urged Brego into a run, and from there my mind went blank. I forgot about everything except the line the orcs were forming before us. My mind only had one purpose now: kill all the orcs you can, nevermind about staying alive.
I held Celebril high, and ran it through the first orc near me. I yanked it out, and kept riding. My emotions had left me. Brego took me from the thickest of the orcs, and I continued stabbing the horrid monstrosities as fast as my arm would let me.
Brego reared on his back legs as I heard the sound of a released arrow. Brego's forelegs pawed the air for a second, and I felt his body tremble.
Then he fell. I didn't have time to do anything, only see the earth come up to me, and then hear the sickening thud as Brego hit the earth. All his legs flailed in the air. It took me a moment to realize that the horse had fallen on my left leg. The pain suddenly hit me full force. Everything went white for a second, then darkened back to the scene.
An orc ran at me, his rusty sword raised. I drew Celebril, and plunged it into his stomach as he neared. He staggered back, and fell. I tried to pull my leg from under Brego, but the pain was too much. With all my might, I pushed Brego's heaving back, but that was no use.
The battle continued around me. I rested a hand on Brego's stomach. I felt his labored breathing, and whispered softly to him. I sang the only song I knew in Elvish, and I felt his breathing calm some. Then it stopped altogether. A dead weight fell on me. Once again, I tried to force the beast off of me, but it was no use.
I collapsed in despair, and looked up at the sky. So this was it. Some orc would come by, and kill me faster than I could call for help.
Hearing footsteps draw near me, I figured my time had come. I looked around, but saw instead of an orc, a helmed man, dropping his sword. He hurried to me, staring hard at Brego.
"Help me push." he instructed, placing his hands on the back of the horse. We both heaved at Brego. I felt the stress on my leg lighten.
"Get out!" shouted the soldier. I wriggled from under the horse, ignoring the pain in my leg. I propped myself up, and looked at the man. His gaze had turned from me to an orc rushing at us. He scrambled for his sword, but it was too late. I watched in horror as on of the orcs ran its sword through him. The man's legs buckled, and he fell silently to the ground. The orcs turned to me, his sword still holding the blood of my rescuer.
Anger seethed in me, and I held Celebril as high as I could, trying to remain in a sitting postion with the other hand. I parried the first blow, and tried to counter, but the orc was too fast. He blocked me, and managed to make a shallow scratch on my shoulder.
I pushed myself away from the orc as fast as I could, always keeping my eyes on my enemy's face.
The orcs face changed. His red eyes lifted from me to above me, and his sneer disappeared. He dropped his sword, and ran away. I felt relief, sure that a member of the Rohirrim was behind me, tall and powerful.
I couldn't have been more wrong. I turned around and saw a mammoth of a beast careening towards me. It had three sets of sharp tusks, all dressed in even sharper spikes. On it's back was strapped what looked like a house full of armed men.
The Mumak, Oliphaunt to Sam, lumbered closer to me. I tried desperately to stand, but my left leg was utterly useless. By the looks of it, it was probably broken.
The trunk-like legs of the Mumak were thick with arrows, and an insane plan developed in my tired mind. The beast thundered ever closer. I knew that if I made one wrong move, I would probably be dead.
I struggled to kneel, and waited. The Mumak was now about twenty feet from me. I gathered up my strength, and as the beast was feet from me, I lunged at the right front leg.
My fingers wrapped tightly around one of the arrows, and I swung my right leg up to catch another imbedded arrow. I thanked God that long bows had been invented in Middle Earth. The force the arrow had been sent zinging from the bow had made sure the arrow was nearly half-way in the target.
In other words, the arrows held me up just fine. It was like climbing a great moving rock wall of doom. I finally found a place where I could half-sit on an arrow, with my left leg dangling. My hands gripped tight to an arrow just above my head.
And in that fashion, I survived the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. I like to believe that my position looked as if I had been pinned against the Oliphaunt, and was dead. I barely moved for fear of falling, and soon I was exhausted from holding myself up in such a way.
My arms went numb from being held above my heart for so long, and my left leg ached. As I was giving up in fatigue, I saw flooding near the field an phosphorescent green army.
My strength returned, and I grinned. Aragorn's trip had been successful. The Soldiers of the Dead swept over the orcs and mumakil alike, killing them easily.
Then I remembered my position. The green army was drawing nearer, and I knew they would also kill the Mumak that was carrying me, and, corresponding with Murphy's Law, it would probably fall on top of me. As carefully, but quickly as I could, I lowered myself to the lowest arrows, and watched the ground fall and rise beneath me as the beast lumbered along.
I would have to let go, and then roll out of the way. If I didn't, I'd be crushed by the hind legs. I mustered all my courage I had left, and let go as the foot was lowering back to the earth.
The impact jarred me, but I rolled as fast as my arms would let me. As one of the back legs passed over me, I watched the Army of the Dead swarm upon the beast, sending it to the ground.
I laid on my back for quite some time, gasping for air and strength. A horrible shriek rang through the fields, and a black shadow crossed over me. The Lord of the Nazgul and his fell beast had made their entrance.
I couldn't bear to even try and watch what I knew was happening. Instead, I pushed myself into a sitting postition, and looked around.
The orcs had been beaten. The combination of the Rohirrim, and the strength of MInas Tirith, and the dead soldiers had been too much for them. I knew we had won the battle, but it didn't lighten my heart.
Straining my eyes, I tried to find a familiar face, but it was useless; the field was large, and there were too many beings on it. Night was falling, as was my hope.
A realization struck me. If Eowyn and Merry were unconscious after their dealings with the Nazgul, which they undoubtably were, then there was no one else who knew I had fought. I looked towards Minas Tirith. It seemed miles away.
I rolled on my stomach, and began dragging myself towards the city. It was pathetic, I know, but I had to get there.
An hour passed, and still I pulled myself along. I stopped to take a break, resting against a dead horse. I looked hard at the horse, and hope rekindled in my heart. It was the fallen form of Brego. It must have been kicked along by one of the mumakil, but here it lay, broken and still.
My heart grieved for the dead horse, but I couldn't help feeling glad. Hardly daring to hope, I searched the saddlebags. All my things remained intact, including the two palantiri.
It seemed almost to perfect, but I wasn't complaining. I unstrapped the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and continued my slow progress towards the white city. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.
chibi-mairi: Thanks, I hate stories that are so fake sounding. Like... well, any Mary-Sue fic. :Shudder:
AAAclub: Thanks. Compliments make me feel fuzzy inside. :-) Wrath of AAAclub.... curiouser and curiouser.... And the chapter will continue rolling rolling rolling.....
We rode at the back of the legion, trying to be unnoticable. I felt that any moment, one of the men on either side of me would notice my skirt, or the Hobbit sitting before me. That evening, the three of us camped a ways from the others.
"Do you know anywhere I could get some pants and leg armour?" I joked quietly. Eowyn grinned, and didn't answer.
We sat in silence for a moment, then Eowyn looked thoughtfully at me, and asked, "Can you sew?"
"A bit." I admitted.
"Wait here." she instructed, and walked off. She returned a few seconds later, carrying a small pouch made of coarse cloth, which she handed to me. Curiously, I opened it, and saw an assortment of needles, cloth, and thread. "Master Meriodoc, turn away, please." Eowyn began, Merry did so, and Eowyn continued, "Now, use your sword, and cut a slit up the front and back of your dress. Then you can sew them together like pants. It's not the ideal solution, but it's all I could come up with. I'll go help Merry make dinner." So saying, she went off.
"Alright" I called to her retreatng back, dismayed slightly, because I like my dress, but I realized I had to have my priorities first. Making sure I was in absolute privacy, I took off my armour and helmet, slipped out of my dress, and hurriedly cut the skirt.
I've never been good at sewing, but I sewed faster than I thought I ever could. In roughly ten minutes, I had stitched the skirt into a pair of loose pants. I put it on, and then felt like an idiot.
I felt like I was wearing a jumpsuit. Now, I've never been a slave to fashion, but I felt like I was some punk-freak in Middle Earth trying to rebirth the styles of the eighties. I ripped the seams around the waste, in hopes to make a two piece suit.
Fastening my belt around the pants that were now too loose, I felt more clothes-secure, in more ways than one. As I was putting on the breastplate, Eowyn and Merry reappeared. Merry was carrying a large pot of a steaming substance.
"We made stew." He announced, setting it down. Eowyn ladled the stew into three shallow bowls, and we ate our dinner quickly. The rabbit in the stew was still cold in the middle, but the carrots were just right, and the broth was good.
After dinner, we talked in low voices of battle until the moon rose to her zenith. Then we agreed to sleep.
.
In the early morning, we gathered with the rest of the Rohirrim, and listened to Theoden give his orders.
"We should reach Minas Tirith this afternoon," he began, "and when we do, I want all of you to order yourselves as you usually would in battle instances. Let us ride!" he cried, spurring Snowmane into a gallop. With a cheer, the rest of us followed.
We were closer to the white city than I had thought. The sun had not even fully risen before we were looking down upon the Pelennor Fields.
A battle raged already. Legions and legions of orcs swarmed beneath the city, catapulting fire and moving the great towers to the wall. I glanced at Osgiliath. It was in ruins, and seemed to be abandoned. All the action was on the fields.
My courage quavered. Theoden was speaking about bravery and strength, but I wasn't listening. My eyes were latched mesmerized on the firey battering ram approaching the great doors.
I gripped the reins of Brego, and looked over at Eowyn. She was smiling grimly. In front of her sat Merry, a look of determination on his face. I wondered if I looked as scared as I felt.
We charged. I urged Brego into a run, and from there my mind went blank. I forgot about everything except the line the orcs were forming before us. My mind only had one purpose now: kill all the orcs you can, nevermind about staying alive.
I held Celebril high, and ran it through the first orc near me. I yanked it out, and kept riding. My emotions had left me. Brego took me from the thickest of the orcs, and I continued stabbing the horrid monstrosities as fast as my arm would let me.
Brego reared on his back legs as I heard the sound of a released arrow. Brego's forelegs pawed the air for a second, and I felt his body tremble.
Then he fell. I didn't have time to do anything, only see the earth come up to me, and then hear the sickening thud as Brego hit the earth. All his legs flailed in the air. It took me a moment to realize that the horse had fallen on my left leg. The pain suddenly hit me full force. Everything went white for a second, then darkened back to the scene.
An orc ran at me, his rusty sword raised. I drew Celebril, and plunged it into his stomach as he neared. He staggered back, and fell. I tried to pull my leg from under Brego, but the pain was too much. With all my might, I pushed Brego's heaving back, but that was no use.
The battle continued around me. I rested a hand on Brego's stomach. I felt his labored breathing, and whispered softly to him. I sang the only song I knew in Elvish, and I felt his breathing calm some. Then it stopped altogether. A dead weight fell on me. Once again, I tried to force the beast off of me, but it was no use.
I collapsed in despair, and looked up at the sky. So this was it. Some orc would come by, and kill me faster than I could call for help.
Hearing footsteps draw near me, I figured my time had come. I looked around, but saw instead of an orc, a helmed man, dropping his sword. He hurried to me, staring hard at Brego.
"Help me push." he instructed, placing his hands on the back of the horse. We both heaved at Brego. I felt the stress on my leg lighten.
"Get out!" shouted the soldier. I wriggled from under the horse, ignoring the pain in my leg. I propped myself up, and looked at the man. His gaze had turned from me to an orc rushing at us. He scrambled for his sword, but it was too late. I watched in horror as on of the orcs ran its sword through him. The man's legs buckled, and he fell silently to the ground. The orcs turned to me, his sword still holding the blood of my rescuer.
Anger seethed in me, and I held Celebril as high as I could, trying to remain in a sitting postion with the other hand. I parried the first blow, and tried to counter, but the orc was too fast. He blocked me, and managed to make a shallow scratch on my shoulder.
I pushed myself away from the orc as fast as I could, always keeping my eyes on my enemy's face.
The orcs face changed. His red eyes lifted from me to above me, and his sneer disappeared. He dropped his sword, and ran away. I felt relief, sure that a member of the Rohirrim was behind me, tall and powerful.
I couldn't have been more wrong. I turned around and saw a mammoth of a beast careening towards me. It had three sets of sharp tusks, all dressed in even sharper spikes. On it's back was strapped what looked like a house full of armed men.
The Mumak, Oliphaunt to Sam, lumbered closer to me. I tried desperately to stand, but my left leg was utterly useless. By the looks of it, it was probably broken.
The trunk-like legs of the Mumak were thick with arrows, and an insane plan developed in my tired mind. The beast thundered ever closer. I knew that if I made one wrong move, I would probably be dead.
I struggled to kneel, and waited. The Mumak was now about twenty feet from me. I gathered up my strength, and as the beast was feet from me, I lunged at the right front leg.
My fingers wrapped tightly around one of the arrows, and I swung my right leg up to catch another imbedded arrow. I thanked God that long bows had been invented in Middle Earth. The force the arrow had been sent zinging from the bow had made sure the arrow was nearly half-way in the target.
In other words, the arrows held me up just fine. It was like climbing a great moving rock wall of doom. I finally found a place where I could half-sit on an arrow, with my left leg dangling. My hands gripped tight to an arrow just above my head.
And in that fashion, I survived the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. I like to believe that my position looked as if I had been pinned against the Oliphaunt, and was dead. I barely moved for fear of falling, and soon I was exhausted from holding myself up in such a way.
My arms went numb from being held above my heart for so long, and my left leg ached. As I was giving up in fatigue, I saw flooding near the field an phosphorescent green army.
My strength returned, and I grinned. Aragorn's trip had been successful. The Soldiers of the Dead swept over the orcs and mumakil alike, killing them easily.
Then I remembered my position. The green army was drawing nearer, and I knew they would also kill the Mumak that was carrying me, and, corresponding with Murphy's Law, it would probably fall on top of me. As carefully, but quickly as I could, I lowered myself to the lowest arrows, and watched the ground fall and rise beneath me as the beast lumbered along.
I would have to let go, and then roll out of the way. If I didn't, I'd be crushed by the hind legs. I mustered all my courage I had left, and let go as the foot was lowering back to the earth.
The impact jarred me, but I rolled as fast as my arms would let me. As one of the back legs passed over me, I watched the Army of the Dead swarm upon the beast, sending it to the ground.
I laid on my back for quite some time, gasping for air and strength. A horrible shriek rang through the fields, and a black shadow crossed over me. The Lord of the Nazgul and his fell beast had made their entrance.
I couldn't bear to even try and watch what I knew was happening. Instead, I pushed myself into a sitting postition, and looked around.
The orcs had been beaten. The combination of the Rohirrim, and the strength of MInas Tirith, and the dead soldiers had been too much for them. I knew we had won the battle, but it didn't lighten my heart.
Straining my eyes, I tried to find a familiar face, but it was useless; the field was large, and there were too many beings on it. Night was falling, as was my hope.
A realization struck me. If Eowyn and Merry were unconscious after their dealings with the Nazgul, which they undoubtably were, then there was no one else who knew I had fought. I looked towards Minas Tirith. It seemed miles away.
I rolled on my stomach, and began dragging myself towards the city. It was pathetic, I know, but I had to get there.
An hour passed, and still I pulled myself along. I stopped to take a break, resting against a dead horse. I looked hard at the horse, and hope rekindled in my heart. It was the fallen form of Brego. It must have been kicked along by one of the mumakil, but here it lay, broken and still.
My heart grieved for the dead horse, but I couldn't help feeling glad. Hardly daring to hope, I searched the saddlebags. All my things remained intact, including the two palantiri.
It seemed almost to perfect, but I wasn't complaining. I unstrapped the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and continued my slow progress towards the white city. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.
chibi-mairi: Thanks, I hate stories that are so fake sounding. Like... well, any Mary-Sue fic. :Shudder:
AAAclub: Thanks. Compliments make me feel fuzzy inside. :-) Wrath of AAAclub.... curiouser and curiouser.... And the chapter will continue rolling rolling rolling.....