Far and Away
Chapter 22
The sky was dark when Merry woke up and he looked around at the commotion going on around him. Dernhelm quickly crawled into the lean-in and grabbed his things.
Merry looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?" The Hobbit rubbed his eyes and yawned. He sat up and gazed at Dernhelm, waiting for an answer.
The young man's eyes masked a strange look. Merry shuttered a little. Dernhelm finished rolling up his belongings and shoved them into his saddlebag. After fastening his cloak firmly around his neck, he glanced at Merry for a moment before beginning to pull down the lean-in.
"We're leaving for the Fields, Master Merry. The Battle has already begun, for you can see the fires that have been set in Minas Tirth from the top of the hill. Come quickly, Merry."
Merry jumped numbly to his feet. He put his things in the other pocket of the saddlebag as Dernhelm finished taking down the lean-in. The young Rohirrim place the Hobbit behind him on Windfola when they had mounted. Dernhelm turned Windfola quickly and they galloped to where the eoreds were assembling. Within five minutes, they were on their way to battle.
It was less than a league to where the outer walls of the Rammas of the Pelennor had once stood, but long ago fallen. They reached the ruins quickly and found only a few orcs who were quickly slain. King Theoden paused at the ruins of the north gate and here, the three eoreds spilt up. The King's eored went straight, while Grimbold's eored went east and Elfhelm's stayed to the right. The hill peaked here and Merry glanced from behind Dernhelm, his cloak still hiding him from view.
Merry could see a great fire rising from a city about 10 miles or so near the base of the hill, near the foot of a mountain. Further passed the city, Merry could see another city along a great river and beyond that, great dark mountains rose tall against the ash-sky. Merry shuttered.
The eoreds moved slowly, but steadily into Gondor's fields. Everything was eerily silent and still as the rows of Rohirrim rode endlessly over the land. When they were much closer to the White City, King Theoden halted. No one spoke a word. The city was close enough to see it clearly now, and the flames could be seen undoubtedly. The smell of burning could be smelled. Merry recoiled and tears sprang to his eyes.
"Pippin," he whispered. "We're too late." His face fell until he felt a soft breeze on his wet cheeks. His eyes lifted up until he saw the clouds to the south slowly part and the pale blue sky peeked through.
Merry heard the King of the Mark cry out, though he couldn't hear what he was saying. But he did hear a ripple in the voices of the men, as all of them cried, "Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"
The King cried to his horse and he galloped away, the Rohirrim racing after him, like a wave crashing toward the beach. Merry had to hold on tightly as Dernhelm yelled and leapt forward, joining the Riders. The oncoming bands of orcs had no hope, and every one of them fell to a Rohirrim sword. Merry watched bravely, somewhat horrified at the mass killing going on around him.
The Riders swept through the Fields like a plague, destroying all evil in their path. The battle seemed won. The Rohirrim slowed and the followed the direction of their King as he turned toward the Gate to the River, less than a mile from the White City.
This is where to battle stopped for only about five minutes. The King of the Mark had halted and the Rohirrim all watched as many of their enemies fled before their eyes. Then all their eyes left the Riverside and turned to their king, who sat in his greatest glory, his face shining.
But the glory of the king was dimmed, when the Lord of the Nazgul came soaring in overhead on his winged beast. Men screamed and were thrown from their horses that ran back to the Forest in blind terror. Dernhelm stiffened in front of Merry, but he did not move, nor did Windfola make a sound except for the cold sweat that glistened over his strong body.
Theoden's voice rose above the panic. "To me! To me! Up Eorlingas! Do not fear the Darkness!" Merry peeked out at the king, but just after the words had left his mouth, his horse, Snowmane, reared and fell in terror, taking the king with him. Dernhelm jerked forward and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips. Merry's heart fell.
The Dark Lord of the Nazgul descended to the ground, taking the darkness with him. The scream from the winged creature was ear scattering, and Merry covered his ears and Dernhelm winced. The lord landed and immediately scattered the eoreds. The king's knights defended Theoden's body as best they could, but it was all in vain, for every one of them soon perished.
Dernhelm had left Elfhelm's eored and rode toward Theoden to help him. But as soon as they were twenty meters away, Windfola was seized with terror and threw both Dernhelm and Merry to the ground before running away across the Fields.
Merry was dazed and crawled around in sick terror. "Get up, you fool," he told himself, "You're the king's man! You must go to him!" His heart pleaded with him, but his eyes would not open. But in his blind state, he heard Dernhelm's voice. He forced himself to see, to turn his face in the direction that his friend spoke. Yet, Dernhelm's voice was strange, and different in some way.
"Be gone, foul dwimmerlaik! You wouldn't you leave the dead in peace!"
Merry saw the cold, dark figure turn and look at the small man. "Do not hinder me, and I will make your death less painful than it has to be."
The Rohirrim drew his sword. "Do what you will, but I will hinder what ever you plan to do."
The lord laughed coldly, "Ha! You plan to hinder me? You are a fool. No living man may hinder me!"
Then Dernhelm laughed.
Merry looked up at him in shock. How could he be laughing in this hour?
"But I am not a man! I am a woman, and my name is Eowyn, daughter of Eomund and sister-daughter of the King. Begone, for whether living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch my lord and kin."
The winged creature screamed again, but this time Eowyn did not wince. The Ringwraith did not answer and stood silent and dark before her, as if he was suddenly in doubt.
Merry looked and saw Dernhelm, but also saw Eowyn. The helm, which she had worn, had fallen from her head, releasing her golden hair. Her eyes were flashing gray, a fierce fire burning deep within her. She grasped her sword firmly in her hands and stared at the Dark Lord.
Merry suddenly felt pity in his heart for her and also great wonder and admiration. Her fire had made him find his courage within himself and he slowly got to his feet. He would aid her in any way possible, he had too.
The lord had not moved, but the beast behind him suddenly lifted himself up and dove at Eowyn. She stood her ground, sword drawn high. Merry saw her for who he really was: shield maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings. And in the same way, fair yet terrible.
As the creature was upon her, her sword came up, and her stroke was sure. She jumped to the side as the body came crashing down beside her. She had hewed the head, which laid a few feet from the body. With the fall of the beast, the shadow fell and the sun shone brightly on her.
But out of the wrecked body, the lord rose and towered over her. He screamed with pure hatred as he brought his spiked club down on her shield. The force snapped her shield and broke her arm. She reluctantly staggered to her knees. He bent over her like a shadow of death, this cold eyes piercing her.
He raised his club to kill, but stumbled forward with a yell of pain and his stroke missed wide of Eowyn. The lord staggered and Merry's small form appeared behind him, his tiny sword cutting deeply into the creature's knee.
"Eowyn!" Merry cried, looking desperately at her. She heavily lifted herself onto her feet and with her last amount of strength, drove her sword into the lord's forehead. The dark captain's body went limp and he fell backward, near to Merry. Eowyn's sword had shattered and fell as the Dark lord's form disappeared. Eowyn grew pale, and she fell on top of the black cloak.
Merry stood over her, tears falling like rain. He stooped and gently touched Eowyn on the shoulder. His voice cracked as her tried to call her name, but she did not move. Merry got up and found Theoden, who lay in the grass. Merry softly kissed the elder's hand and the king's eyes fluttered open. His eyes finally rested on Merry's tear stained face.
"Master Holbytla! I fear this is farewell."
New tears sprang to Merry's eyes and he whispered, "Forgive me, I disobeyed you."
The old king smiled. "Do not cry, Merry. It is forgiven. When you sit in peace with your pipe, think often of me! For I shall never get to hear your herb-lore." The king paused and Merry looked worriedly at him. "Where is Eomer? He is to be king after me, you know. You will tell him that, won't you?"
Merry nodded. "Of course, my lord."
"And I would have you tell Eowyn that she was dearer than a daughter to me."
Merry gasped. "But my lord, she is-" Theoden's eyes had closed and his soul had left his body, so that he was not aware that his niece lay just a few yard from him.
Merry looked around the Field. He was alone. And he sat down and wept.
*~*~*
How'd you like it? Its kind of sad, but I'm going slow because the movie hasn't come out yet. Well, REVIEW! Thanks ya'll and God bless!
Chapter 22
The sky was dark when Merry woke up and he looked around at the commotion going on around him. Dernhelm quickly crawled into the lean-in and grabbed his things.
Merry looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?" The Hobbit rubbed his eyes and yawned. He sat up and gazed at Dernhelm, waiting for an answer.
The young man's eyes masked a strange look. Merry shuttered a little. Dernhelm finished rolling up his belongings and shoved them into his saddlebag. After fastening his cloak firmly around his neck, he glanced at Merry for a moment before beginning to pull down the lean-in.
"We're leaving for the Fields, Master Merry. The Battle has already begun, for you can see the fires that have been set in Minas Tirth from the top of the hill. Come quickly, Merry."
Merry jumped numbly to his feet. He put his things in the other pocket of the saddlebag as Dernhelm finished taking down the lean-in. The young Rohirrim place the Hobbit behind him on Windfola when they had mounted. Dernhelm turned Windfola quickly and they galloped to where the eoreds were assembling. Within five minutes, they were on their way to battle.
It was less than a league to where the outer walls of the Rammas of the Pelennor had once stood, but long ago fallen. They reached the ruins quickly and found only a few orcs who were quickly slain. King Theoden paused at the ruins of the north gate and here, the three eoreds spilt up. The King's eored went straight, while Grimbold's eored went east and Elfhelm's stayed to the right. The hill peaked here and Merry glanced from behind Dernhelm, his cloak still hiding him from view.
Merry could see a great fire rising from a city about 10 miles or so near the base of the hill, near the foot of a mountain. Further passed the city, Merry could see another city along a great river and beyond that, great dark mountains rose tall against the ash-sky. Merry shuttered.
The eoreds moved slowly, but steadily into Gondor's fields. Everything was eerily silent and still as the rows of Rohirrim rode endlessly over the land. When they were much closer to the White City, King Theoden halted. No one spoke a word. The city was close enough to see it clearly now, and the flames could be seen undoubtedly. The smell of burning could be smelled. Merry recoiled and tears sprang to his eyes.
"Pippin," he whispered. "We're too late." His face fell until he felt a soft breeze on his wet cheeks. His eyes lifted up until he saw the clouds to the south slowly part and the pale blue sky peeked through.
Merry heard the King of the Mark cry out, though he couldn't hear what he was saying. But he did hear a ripple in the voices of the men, as all of them cried, "Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"
The King cried to his horse and he galloped away, the Rohirrim racing after him, like a wave crashing toward the beach. Merry had to hold on tightly as Dernhelm yelled and leapt forward, joining the Riders. The oncoming bands of orcs had no hope, and every one of them fell to a Rohirrim sword. Merry watched bravely, somewhat horrified at the mass killing going on around him.
The Riders swept through the Fields like a plague, destroying all evil in their path. The battle seemed won. The Rohirrim slowed and the followed the direction of their King as he turned toward the Gate to the River, less than a mile from the White City.
This is where to battle stopped for only about five minutes. The King of the Mark had halted and the Rohirrim all watched as many of their enemies fled before their eyes. Then all their eyes left the Riverside and turned to their king, who sat in his greatest glory, his face shining.
But the glory of the king was dimmed, when the Lord of the Nazgul came soaring in overhead on his winged beast. Men screamed and were thrown from their horses that ran back to the Forest in blind terror. Dernhelm stiffened in front of Merry, but he did not move, nor did Windfola make a sound except for the cold sweat that glistened over his strong body.
Theoden's voice rose above the panic. "To me! To me! Up Eorlingas! Do not fear the Darkness!" Merry peeked out at the king, but just after the words had left his mouth, his horse, Snowmane, reared and fell in terror, taking the king with him. Dernhelm jerked forward and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips. Merry's heart fell.
The Dark Lord of the Nazgul descended to the ground, taking the darkness with him. The scream from the winged creature was ear scattering, and Merry covered his ears and Dernhelm winced. The lord landed and immediately scattered the eoreds. The king's knights defended Theoden's body as best they could, but it was all in vain, for every one of them soon perished.
Dernhelm had left Elfhelm's eored and rode toward Theoden to help him. But as soon as they were twenty meters away, Windfola was seized with terror and threw both Dernhelm and Merry to the ground before running away across the Fields.
Merry was dazed and crawled around in sick terror. "Get up, you fool," he told himself, "You're the king's man! You must go to him!" His heart pleaded with him, but his eyes would not open. But in his blind state, he heard Dernhelm's voice. He forced himself to see, to turn his face in the direction that his friend spoke. Yet, Dernhelm's voice was strange, and different in some way.
"Be gone, foul dwimmerlaik! You wouldn't you leave the dead in peace!"
Merry saw the cold, dark figure turn and look at the small man. "Do not hinder me, and I will make your death less painful than it has to be."
The Rohirrim drew his sword. "Do what you will, but I will hinder what ever you plan to do."
The lord laughed coldly, "Ha! You plan to hinder me? You are a fool. No living man may hinder me!"
Then Dernhelm laughed.
Merry looked up at him in shock. How could he be laughing in this hour?
"But I am not a man! I am a woman, and my name is Eowyn, daughter of Eomund and sister-daughter of the King. Begone, for whether living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch my lord and kin."
The winged creature screamed again, but this time Eowyn did not wince. The Ringwraith did not answer and stood silent and dark before her, as if he was suddenly in doubt.
Merry looked and saw Dernhelm, but also saw Eowyn. The helm, which she had worn, had fallen from her head, releasing her golden hair. Her eyes were flashing gray, a fierce fire burning deep within her. She grasped her sword firmly in her hands and stared at the Dark Lord.
Merry suddenly felt pity in his heart for her and also great wonder and admiration. Her fire had made him find his courage within himself and he slowly got to his feet. He would aid her in any way possible, he had too.
The lord had not moved, but the beast behind him suddenly lifted himself up and dove at Eowyn. She stood her ground, sword drawn high. Merry saw her for who he really was: shield maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings. And in the same way, fair yet terrible.
As the creature was upon her, her sword came up, and her stroke was sure. She jumped to the side as the body came crashing down beside her. She had hewed the head, which laid a few feet from the body. With the fall of the beast, the shadow fell and the sun shone brightly on her.
But out of the wrecked body, the lord rose and towered over her. He screamed with pure hatred as he brought his spiked club down on her shield. The force snapped her shield and broke her arm. She reluctantly staggered to her knees. He bent over her like a shadow of death, this cold eyes piercing her.
He raised his club to kill, but stumbled forward with a yell of pain and his stroke missed wide of Eowyn. The lord staggered and Merry's small form appeared behind him, his tiny sword cutting deeply into the creature's knee.
"Eowyn!" Merry cried, looking desperately at her. She heavily lifted herself onto her feet and with her last amount of strength, drove her sword into the lord's forehead. The dark captain's body went limp and he fell backward, near to Merry. Eowyn's sword had shattered and fell as the Dark lord's form disappeared. Eowyn grew pale, and she fell on top of the black cloak.
Merry stood over her, tears falling like rain. He stooped and gently touched Eowyn on the shoulder. His voice cracked as her tried to call her name, but she did not move. Merry got up and found Theoden, who lay in the grass. Merry softly kissed the elder's hand and the king's eyes fluttered open. His eyes finally rested on Merry's tear stained face.
"Master Holbytla! I fear this is farewell."
New tears sprang to Merry's eyes and he whispered, "Forgive me, I disobeyed you."
The old king smiled. "Do not cry, Merry. It is forgiven. When you sit in peace with your pipe, think often of me! For I shall never get to hear your herb-lore." The king paused and Merry looked worriedly at him. "Where is Eomer? He is to be king after me, you know. You will tell him that, won't you?"
Merry nodded. "Of course, my lord."
"And I would have you tell Eowyn that she was dearer than a daughter to me."
Merry gasped. "But my lord, she is-" Theoden's eyes had closed and his soul had left his body, so that he was not aware that his niece lay just a few yard from him.
Merry looked around the Field. He was alone. And he sat down and wept.
*~*~*
How'd you like it? Its kind of sad, but I'm going slow because the movie hasn't come out yet. Well, REVIEW! Thanks ya'll and God bless!