Chapter 3
Marching
Haldir POV
The sound of thousands of elves marching was deafening to my sensitive ears. Normally elves were silent as a grave, but twenty one thousand warriors couldn't be quieted by elves. Gazing over the platoons on soldiers, relief washed over me. Not even Isenguard could defeat an army this strong. Estel is the hope of men but now I wonder if he is also saviour of the eldar. Long has it been since the last alliance, has the elves of Mirkwood, both lorien and Imladris banded together and marched to war. If a single human can cause such a stir of emotions among our kind I believe that sauron truly does have reason to fear this adan.
To my left, Galaderial sits proud upon her stallion her face fixed with determination but also seething fury lied underneath her cool exterior. I almost felt pity for the enemy. To incur the lady of the wood's wrath is not likely taken. I allowed my eyes to wander, gazing upon my surroundings. The rocks were scattered everywhere on the grassy plains. The hilly surrounds showed the true glory of the riddermark. A brief stab of sorrow pained my heart as I realised the effects of a war on this land. Were we to battle outside orthanc then the riddermark would be ravaged and it would burn. Steeling my resolve I swore to make saruman pay for his crimes.
Celeborn POV
I rode along the outskirts of lothlorein, it's great trees no longer granting my company and I protection from they eye of the enemy and his urk-hai we rode at a fast pace. It was necessary if we were to catch up with my lady wife, Galaderial, and Halidir, the March warden of lothlorien. Normally I would not involve myself in a battle but this involved my grandson. At this my temper flared and urged my horse forward. My archers exchanged glances at one another. They think I cannot see them. They do not understand how I can feel so strongly about an adan. If I had never met Estel then I would sympathize with their affliction, but now my heart holds nothing but pity if they cannot see past a person's race. Still I have hope that if Estel can change my heart that his beautifully light can shine into theirs.
After riding many days and even nights, I believe we near the host of Rivendell, Mirkwood and Lothlorien. The soft thumping of the march grows louder with every step. Judging by the noise they are less than an hour's ride ahead. The sound of a horse's hooves and neighs filled my sensitive elven ears. "Maybe they are closer than we thing, Lord Celeborn", queered an archer whose name was unknown to me. That was no elven rider; they would never make that much noise. I silently draw my bow as a figure clad in gray enters into my line of sight. Smirking, I lower my weapon. My archers are confused and they question me on the subject but are answer them with one word "Mithrandir". Slowly they also begin to lower their weaponry as the rider came to halt in front of us and it became clear he also was enraged with the capture of my grandson. As our eyes connected there was no need for words, we both understood. We would find Estel and make Saruman pay. Although there was also the underlying despair of in what state we would find Estel in.
Estel (Aragorn) POV
The searing pain was everywhere in my body. The torment was too much to bear; the chains chaffed my wrists causing more of my blood to be drawn. I barely noticed this as I tried to lose consciousness but my captors did not allow me to. A knife began to cut slowly into my soft flesh. It burned; the heated blade tore into my insides. I screamed or at least tried to. The gag prevented any sound from escaping. Is struggled as hard as I could against the chains but to no avail. All this proved to do is aggravate the wounds and increase the pain. The orcs twisted faces were locked in smirks as they reveled in my pain and suffering. Ada. My Ada will come. I know it and I will not allow them to break me. Staring them in the eye I glared down on them. Unfortunately for me this earnt another round of torture from the urk-hai. This time I tried not to scream because I knew my Ada was coming, but it didn't work.
Elrond POV
On the horizon I could see Isenguard. Its black walls standing tall against the morning sun. The grim expression on the fair faces of my sons directed at this tower. The death of Saruman would be a slow one and definitely painful. The elven army had marched for a week pausing only for sleep and food. No one objected to the harsh march, in fact quite a few wanted to gallop all the way to Orthanc. In less than hour we would begin our onslaught on Saruman's forces. The wizard would not be able to withstand our attack even with his magicks. "My Lord Elrond, King Thranduil sends word that he is in position and wanting for the signal, sir," reported a young wood elf. "Tell his majesty we will attack soon," was my reply as I stared at the retreating back of the archer.
At a half an hour later the signal was struck and Lorien marched on the front gate. With the Mirkwood elves creating a diversion, myself and the others from Imladris were able to plant our explosives at the base of the walls. The stone masonry just blew apart and we breezed through the gap. Saruman, unable to divert his troops, could not to stop us from entering. With our faces set and swords drawn we begun to climb the looming Tower of Isenguard.
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