A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. Here is chapter two. The last chapter The Black Gate Opens is under construction. Please review! Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS (a bit late, though). I'm sorry but I'll have to split this chapter into two; I feel it would be just too much.
Disclaimer: As always, I don't own any of the characters (except Arulf the horse). All belong to J.R.R Tolkien (ring any bells?)
The Battle of the Pelennor Fields
The wind rushed into my face. Excitement flowed through me and my temples throbbed. I, Éothain of the Lord Éomer's company, was about to witness my first full-scale battle. Light was glimmering. Far away, in the South the clouds cold be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond us.
My horse, Arulf, whinnied. I knew he could sense the excitement in the air. I smiled and stroked his rich, black mane. He was a beautiful horse. I raised him from birth and my father had allowed me to ride him. Yes, we loved and understood each other.
There was a flash, as if lightning had sprung from the earth beneath the City. For a searing second it stood dazzling far off in black and white, its topmost tower like a glittering needle; and then as the darkness closed again there came rolling over the fields a great boom.
"'Tis the work of the enemy," someone next to me muttered. He shivered and said, "May merciful Iluvatar spare us all."
The king suddenly sprung erect. Tall and proud he seemed; and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than I had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:
Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield shall be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!
The wind was in his hair and his eyes glittered. Many of us drew our swords and cried in a loud voice, "Hail Theoden King!" The king siezed a horn from Guthlaf his banner-bearer, who jumped, startled. And he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. All the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of us Rohirrim in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!
Suddenly, the king cried to his horse and the horse sprang away. Behind him the banner flapped and blew in the wind, white horse upon a green field, but he outpaced it. We gave a loud cry and we thundered after him, but he was ever before us. The Lord Éomer rode there, the white horsetail of his helm floating in his speed, and the front of us roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but to our surprise, Theoden could not be overtaken.
Morning came and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and our hooves of wrath rode over them, and the sound of our singing that was fair and terrible made their spirits quail.
It seemed that victory was imminent, though a black sea of enemy lay before us. I slew as many as I could. Most were trampled beneath Arulf's hooves. The banner-bearers of the enemy were slain and the standards shredded with swords and axes. I set my jaw as I drove my blade into the neck of a Southron. He gave a curious gurgling sound and fell dead. All that was left unslain of the enemy's calvary turned and fled far away.
But lo! suddenly in the midst of glory, the new morning was blotted from the sky. Dark fell about us. Horses reared and screamed, Arulf among them. I was cast from my saddle. With the wind knocked out of me, I knew that without my perch on Arulf, my chance of dying was higher.
Over the pandemonium, I heard Theoden King cry: "To me! To me! Up Eorlingas! Fear no darkness!" Inspired, I stood up and picked up my sword. There he was on his horse, his sword drawn. But his horse was wild with terror. He stood up on high and fought with an invisible foe. Then with a great scream, he crashed upon his side, a black dart in his side. To my horror, the king fell beneath him.
I fought an orc and finally hewed the orc's foul head off. Screaming, I charged toward the king but stopped. The great shadow had descended like a falling cloud. And behold! it was a winged creature: if a bird, then greater than all other birds, and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers; and it stank. My heart was filled with terror. What sort of beast was this? neither bird nor monster? Down, down it came, and then, folding its fingered webs, it gave a croaking cry, and settled upon the body of the king's horse, digging in its claws, stooping its long naked neck.
While I was distracted by this beast, an orc had snuck up on me. Praise be to Iluvatar that I turned around hastily enough to only suffer a slash on my right arm. The orc grinned at me with yellow fangs. I thrust my sword at it but it brought the butt of its pike on my wrist. Shocked, I dropped my bade. It charged toward me and I placed my hands on each side of its disgusting head. I twisted it. There was a crunching sound and the orc fell, its head twisted to the left.
My blade! I picked it up again and turned to face King Theoden. His foe, rider of the hell-hawk, donned a black mantle, huge and threatening. A crown of steel he bore, but between rim and robe naught was there to see, save only a deadly gleam of eyes. A deadly and great black mace he wielded. My spirit quailed.
Theoden was not utterly forsaken. Several knights lay about him, slain, or else mastered by the madness of their steeds were borne far away. Yet one stood there still: a knight smaller in girth than most. He was weeping. The knight spoke in a sharp voice that sounded familiar:
"Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!"
It was a voice as cold as steel and as hard as rock. Could it be...? Nay, my weary mind must have been playing tricks on me. She was in Edoras, safe and looking after the remnants of our people. No, the knight could not have been her.
The voice that answered the knight made my skin prickle with goosebumps. "Come not between the Nazgul and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye."
With one eye on the brave knight, I slew a Southron. The knight drew his sword and said, "Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may."
"Hinder me?" the Nazgul snarled. "Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"
I fought off an orc and made ready to aid the knight. But then, the knight laughed and a clear voice said, "But no living man am I! You look upon a woman--"
A woman!
"--Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter."
I thought I would faint from exhaustion and shock. Éowyn continued:
"You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living and dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him."
I wondered if the Lord Éomer knew and if I should find him in this sea of battle and warn him that his soon-to-be only living kin was comitting suicide. And then I decided against it. Why suffer Éomer's wrath when it should be channeled toward his sister for not obeying their uncle?
The winged creature screamed at her, but the Nazgul made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Éowyn removed her helm and her hair--a river of gold--fell about her slim shoulders. Her eyes were grey and hard and fell, but tears were upon her fair cheeks. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy's eyes.
I wanted to aid Éowyn, but I knew that this was her battle. All I could do was prevent orcs or Southrons from reaching her.
The great beast beat its hideous wings, and the wind of them was foul. I winced as I chopped an orc's arm off. This orc prove to be a fighter. Its skin was beige and it looked as if there were lumps on them. One eye was missing and its teeth was sharp and ugly. It growled. Our swords clashed, steel ringing against steel. My arms ached with weariness as I quickly drew my dagger and thrust it into its good eye. It roared in pain and I stuck my blade through it.
When I turned back to Éowyn, I found that she had hewed the fell beast's head off. Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider. It was taller than Éowyn and much more threatening. For a moment, I thought I saw Éowyn's face blench. With a great, chilling cry, he let fall his mace. Her shield splintered into a million poeces. She cried in pain and drew her shield-arm toward her. It was broken. She stumbled to her knees. He bent over her like a black cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his mace to kill.
"No!" I cried and charged; but the Black Rider stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide, driving into the ground. I stopped in wonder as I saw the halfling Meriadoc, or Merry. His sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the foul mantle, and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee.
"Éowyn! Éowyn!" cried Merry.
The Lady gave a bitter, grim smile and with her last ounce of strength, she drove her sword between the crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Éowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe. But lo! the manglt and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up by the din of battle.
Was the lady dead? I was too afraid to think. Dazed, I wandered back into the battle. To my surprise, Arulf rode up to me. I took his reins and swung up onto the saddle. A familiar voice called to me: "Éothain! Éothain!" It was the Lord Éomer.
He rode up to me and said, "Éothain, you must come with me. Quick! ere it is too late and our doom comes upon us."
"My lord--" I said in a tight and strangled voice, wondering how to tell him about his dear sister. He raised his hand as if to silence me.
"Say no more, Éothain. Now, we must look to battle."
New forces of the enemy were hastening up the road from the River; and from under the walls came the legions of Morgul; and from the southward fields came footmen of Harad with horsemen before them, and behind them rose the huge backs of the mumakil with war-towers upon them. But northward the white crest of Éomer led the great front of the Rohirrim--me among them--which he had gathered and marshalled; and out of the City came all the strength of men that was in it, and a silver swan was borne in the van, driving the enemy from the Gate.
I was filled with red, red wrath and I slew as many of the enemy as I could. I followed Éomer closely, not wanting him to die too and the House of Eorl be lost. Éomer and us knights that were not slain and had mastered our horses rode up to where the carcase of the fell beast lay; and our horses would not go nearer. Éomer leaped off his saddle, and grief and dismay fell upon him as he came to the king's side and stood there in silence. I slid off my saddle and joined him.
I picked up the king's banner from the hand of poor Guthlaf who was slain, and I lifted it up. It fluttered in the wind and the sight of it filled my heart with hope and pride. Slowly, Theoden King opened his eyes. Seeing the banner, he hade a sign that it should be given to Éomer.
"Hail, King of the Mark!" Theoden said in a soft, weary voice. "Ride now to victory! Bid Éowyn farewell!" And so he died, and knew not that Éowyn lay near him. We wept, crying in our tongue: "Theoden King! Theoden King!"
But Éomer said in a brave voice that sounded like he were trying to fight back tears:
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,
meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,
women then shall weep. War now calls us!
And then he wept. "Let his knights remain here," he said at length, "and bear his body in honor from the field, lest battle ride over it! Yea, and all these other of the king's men that lie here." His eyes swept over the slain. I bit my lip as his eyes halted. I knew he had seen her. His face turned as white as virgin snow. His started to sputter. He stood in silence. Then, a fey mood took him.
Finally, he cried: "Éowyn, Éowyn. Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!"
He said to me: "Instruct men to bear the king's body and Éowyn's body into the City with much honor. There, await my return."
Éomer spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn, and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"
And with that the host began to move. But we sang no more. Death we cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a tide the Riders's battle swept about us and passed, roaring away southwards. The few men with me and I watched them go.
"You four," I said, "raise the king. Lay cloaks upon speartruncheons and make a shift to bear him to the City." To another three: "Do the same with Éowyn--gently! for his deserves much honor. Her valor shall be sung in the Golden Hall to the breaking of this world."
We could not bring the men of the king's household from the field; for seven of the king's knights had fallen, and Deorwine their chief was among them. So we laid them apart from their foes and the fell beast and set spears about them.
I was one of the four who bore Éowyn. She looked fair and pale on the shift we had made for her. Her lips were slightly parted and she radiated grace and sorrow. My heart wept for the lady and for Éomer, who was still fighting despite the sorrow in his heart.
Rain came out from the Sea, and it seemed that all things wept for Theoden and Éowyn. The rain, healing and comforting, quenced the fires in the City with grey tears. Through the mist a van of men of Gondor approached us. A man who named himself Imrahil, Prince of Dol amroth, rode up and drew rein before us.
"What burden do you bear, Men of Rohan?" he cried.
Those bearing Theoden King answered with solemn voices: "Theoden King. He is dead. But Éomer King now rides in the battle: he with the white crest in the wind."
With much grace, the prince went from his horse, and knelt by the bier in honor of the king and his great onset. He wept. As he rose, he looked then on Éowyn and was amazed. "Surely, here is a woman?" he said, aghast. "Have even the women of the Rohirrim come to war in our need?"
I replied: "Nay! One only. The Lady Éowyn is she, sister of Éomer; and we knew naught of her riding until this hour, and greatly we rue it."
The prince gave a great sigh. He touched her fair hand as he bent to lookmore closely on her. His eyes widened. "Men of Rohan!" he cried. "Are there no leeches among you? She is hurt, to the death maybe, but I deem that she yet lives!" And he held a bright-burnished vambrace that was upon his arm before her cold, purple lips, and behold! a little mist was laid on it hardly to be seen. We gasped.
"Haste is now needed," he said gravely, and he sent one riding back swiftly to the City. He bowed low to the fallen and bade them farewell, and mounting rode away into battle.
The rider who had been sent by the prince returned with aid. They helped us bear the fallen. We bored them through the winding streets of Minas Tirith. Those who saw us pass bared their heads and bowed. Up the streets of stone we went till we came to a house.
"What place is this?" one of us asked.
"The House of Healing," the rider replied. "The leech-craft of Gondor is still wise and will be able to heal the Lady Éowyn of any hurt or illness. Enter in!"
We lay Éowyn upon soft pillows. As tired as I was, I found a great cloth of gold and covered the king's body with it. Torches we bored about him, and their flames, pale in the sunlight, were fluttered by the wind. I gave a great sigh. My duty was done.
I found myself a chair and collasped into it with exhaustion.
A/N: Part two will be up as soon as possible. I'm working on it! Please review!