Chapter 11

Battlefield

        Arien rose once again in the sky above Arda.  She looked down at the lands below her, and found the shadow that had covered them for five days was dispersed.  She rejoiced, and her bright rays shown down on the Pelennor; on the Rohirrim fell and wrathful in battle.  Glorious and dreadful would be the deeds of that day, she knew.

        The Haradrim marched onto the Pelennor, mùmakil bellowing and blood red standards flying in the wind.  Faraj was among them.  Ahead a white city gleamed in the new dawn, amidst a sea of Mordor's dark hosts.  Perhaps he would have felt awed at the sight, had not his gaze been cast at his feet.  He gripped his scimitar tighter, cold sweat pouring down his back.  He was afraid.

        Malak's pounding hooves matched Lasca's beating heart as the battle loomed ahead.  She felt as if she was in a waking dream.  Faintly she heard Khalil begging her to stop, but she paid no heed.

        For the past few days they had continued north.  At night as they camped in abandoned shacks and barns, they had taken turns at the watch, but neither got any sleep for nerves.  The day became an ever-increasing gauntlet of armed companies from both sides of the war.  The gravity of the situation became clearer with every arrow aimed their way.  If not for the speed and endurance of Malak, both would have been dead within a day. 

        The morn of the third day, however, brought hope, for the sun pierced through the darkness for the first time.  As the afternoon wore on, the Anduin River came upon the road, but suddenly cut off towards the east.  As they came around a high peak of the Ered Nimrais and crossed through a break in the crumbling Rammas Echor, Minas Tirith suddenly appeared to their left.  In front of them ranged hordes of orcs, though they seemed scattered and confused as footmen and cavalry of the North hacked at them.  Hastily Lasca turned Malak back towards the wall and started riding along its outer face.  Through gaps she could see farther out on the fields, and in the distance she spotted the massive forms of mùmakil, most of them lying slain.  A sudden panic came over her, and she spurred Malak into a gallop toward the huge beasts.  In her mind the face of her father swam.  Khalil's cries fell on deaf ears.

        She sped the mare through the carnage and battle, paying no heed to orc or Man.  Many turned, but the Valar were with them, and none hindered them. 

        As they neared the mùmak carcasses, Lasca halted Malak and dismounted quickly, stumbling as she hit the ground.  Khalil did likewise, and held the heavily blowing mare as Lasca frantically searched the fallen men.

        She had been at it for nearly an hour when she approached a man who had been shot with three arrows, blood pooling around him.  He lay face down.  Lasca rolled him over, no longer caring about the blood and gore, for her hands were covered with it.  His face, like all the others, was covered in war paint, though his was care lined and wore an expression of grief.  Lasca felt herself go numb.  With a trembling hand she took his wrist.  She felt nothing under the cold skin. 

        Khalil watched her, expecting her to stand up once more and move on to the next man, but she sat as if she were of stone.  He bowed his head for a moment before walking up to her.  Tentatively he put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, but did not move.  He felt a growing pity for her, this girl who had clung to hope when all seemed lost, and now found her hope betrayed.  Awkwardly he knelt beside her.  She turned towards him.  In her eyes were not tears, but a crazed, pleading look.  He was taken aback, and simply closed his eyes and bowed his head.  Suddenly a strangled sob tore from her throat.  The weight of all things fell on her, and she finally felt too weak, too heartbroken to bear it.  She curled up on the ground beside her fallen father and wept. 

        Khalil was distraught.  A battle of wills waged inside of him, but in the end his compassion won.  He went to her and put his arms around her, pulling her off the ground.  She made no move to resist, and sobbed into his shirt.  Though considerably overwhelmed, he knew nothing that he said would console her.  It seemed to him that he held her, gently rocking her as she cried, for an eternity.  He felt slightly uncomfortable, but in his heart understood the pain she felt.

        Malak's whinny snapped him out of his daze.  Awkwardly he stood up, Lasca now sitting on the ground.  He turned and saw several mounted men approach, dark-haired and dark-clothed.  On seeing that Khalil was a Southron, one raised his bow.  "[No!  Stay your bow,]" Khalil cried.  He unsheathed his scimitar and dropped it at his feet.  Lasca, now standing, did the same.  "[We come not for battle.]"

        "[Why then do you travel so far from your homeland, for you are Southron, are you not?]" The lead man questioned.

        "[We are, though I am also a friend to Olòrin, Gandalf the Gray.  I would have you take me to him,]" Khalil said.  The lead man laughed.

        "[I knew not that Gandalf had friends among Men such as you.  How is it that you know him?]"

        Khalil hesitated, then said: "[I doubt not he will recognize me.  Bring me to him, and you will see.]"

        The lead man regarded Khalil with a blank look.  "[And who is the girl?]"

        "[She is Lasca, the daughter of that man,]" he replied, gesturing to her fallen father.  Lasca said nothing.  The lead man nodded. 

        "[This war is not only cruel to us of the North, I see.  Very well, I shall take you to Gandalf, though you may find him…changed.]"

        Khalil was about to ask what he meant, but the Northern men began to ride off.  Hastily he took Malak's reins and turned to Lasca.  She was kneeling beside her father.  "Lasca, we must follow them."

        "Leave me here.  My father is dead," she whispered.

        "I shall do no such thing.  Come; there will be a time for mourning, but it is not now."  With one last longing glance she stood up and mounted Malak, Khalil behind her.  They rode off after the dark Men.  

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