Welcome to Middle Earth

by Galathilion

Five friends from Earth end up in Middle Earth a few days before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. There they become irrevocably entangled in the lives and stories of its people, as they join the forces of good in the War of the Ring. Please review!

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

SO time and the helpless journey wore away. Upon the sixth day from Minas Tirith they came at last to the end of the living lands, and began to pass into the desolation that lay before the gates of the Pass of Cirith Gorgor. So desolate were those places and so deep the horror that lay on them that some of the host were unmanned, and they could neither walk nor ride further north.

Aragorn looked at them, and there was pity in his eyes rather than wrath; for these were young men from Rohan, from Westfold far away, or husbandmen from Lossarnach, and to them Mordor had been from childhood a name of evil, and yet unreal, a legend that had no part in their simple life; and now they walked like men in a hideous dream made true, and they understood not this war nor why fate should lead them to such a pass.

"Go!" said Aragorn. "But keep what honor you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Take your way south-west till you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think, then re-take it, if you can; and hold it to the last in defence of Gondor and Rohan!"

Then some being shamed by his mercy overcame their fear and went on, and the others took new hope, hearing of a manful deed within their measure that they could turn to, and they departed. And so, since many men had already been left at the Cross Roads, it was with less than six thousands that the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the Black Gate and the might of Mordor.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

IT HAD taken seven days, Adrienne reflected as she stood with the army before the Black Gates of Mordor. Seven painful, anxious days plagued by physical agony and the constant fear of being discovered. But it had all been worth it.

Over the past couple of days Adrienne had felt a deep anger toward Sauron growing within her. The land they had passed through was torn and blackened; what few plants existed were brown and twisted, as if they had fallen still after a long and painful battle against the evil which choked them and cast a shadow over the life-giving sun. The evil of the place rose up out of the tortured earth, engulfing and saturating the men with its insidious fear and hatred. Adrienne had always held a profound respect and love for all things green and good; to see them thus mistreated made her nauseous.

The horses were restless, sensing the ill intent of the Dark Lord which pervaded the land. Adrienne had not been able to calm Caelef down since they passed within the boundaries of the Black Lands. She had seen the effect of this darkness on the men as well; it had affected them in Minas Tirith, but not as greatly as it did here, so close to Mordor itself. Many of them had refused to go on, and Aragorn had sent them to Cair Andros. The rest were anxious, and easily angered; tension was so thick in the air it was practically tangible.

And now they waited for the attack, for the first sign of movement of the giant Morannon. No voices were raised in cry or song; no conversation exchanged. Even the land was silent and watchful.

ERIN shuddered as she regarded the Morannon, towering high above the desolate land, all cold iron and darkness. Its sharp, spearlike ramparts jutting towards the dark clouds seemed to symbolize the cruelty and evil of the Dark Lord.

Erin's heart was pounding, her hands shaky upon Greda's reins as she waited for the battle to begin. She was afraid, so afraid that she was nearly numb with the fear. It almost seemed as though she were a spectator, watching herself from a few feet away. She didn't think she'd ever been this terrified before, not even in Minas Tirith. There, she had had Gandalf at her side, and a stone battlement between her and Sauron's army.

Erin felt as though she were in a dream. Though she had been in Middle Earth for nearly two weeks now, she continued to fight the urge to pinch herself. It was all so unreal, so incredible. She tried to tell herself that she was at the Black Gates of Mordor, that she was about to see the Mouth of Sauron, but for some reason it just didn't sink in.

Six thousand, some of the soldiers had said. Six thousand men against hundreds of thousands of the Dark Lord's creatures. The army didn't even seem that large, looking at it now. The men's fear was clearly visible in their expressions—all except the Captains of the West. They stood proudly at the front of the army, heads held high and faces impassive. Erin tried to take heart from that. If Aragorn and Gandalf were not afraid, then she should not be either.

Yet at the same time, a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Aragorn and Gandalf were supposed to live. The books had said they lived, and so far the war had followed the course of the books. The books did not, however, mention Erin and her friends. They could still be killed, and the reality would have stayed true to the books.

SARAH observed the Black Gates, with their soaring towers that looked like something out of a video game, and found her heart pounding. Back in Minas Tirith riding to battle had seemed interesting enough, but now that she was here, she wasn't so sure that this was a good idea. There weren't even any Orcs out here yet, and she was fighting the urge to run.

Please, God, she prayed, bowing her head. Let me live through this day. Give Frodo strength, and let Sauron be defeated. And please keep my friends safe from harm. Amen.

Sarah was struck with the irony of praying to God here in Middle Earth when, if all Tolkien's works had come true here, there were other gods as well. What would Eru think?

Kalva, seated upon his horse to her left, rested a hand reassuringly on her leg. She looked up to meet his eyes, sure he could read her fear. When their gazes met he gave her a smile. "I shall protect you," he promised her.

Then again, why was I thinking about theology when I'm about to fight in a battle against Orcs and Trolls? she thought with a mental chuckle. From her right, Megan gave Sarah an encouraging smile. They would make it through the day. Whatever gods there were could see to that.

AS SHE looked over the battlefield, Kavila was vaguely surprised that she was still here. Every fiber of her body was screaming at her to run, to flee before the battle began. But there will be people who need you, Kavi, she told herself firmly. What if some soldier died because you weren't here to take care of him?

She didn't look very much like a healer right now, though. There had been more need for healers on the field than in the empty camp and they needed all the soldiers they could get; thus, she and the other healers had been ordered to don main and sword and stand, at least for awhile, with the soldiers. So Kavila had gathered here, Lindir at her side. He had vowed to protect her when she had protested against being forced to fight, but Kavila was still terrified. He was only one older man. Where was Legolas when you needed him?

And so now they stood here at the Gates of Mordor, waiting for the battle to begin. The waiting was almost as bad as the battle, in her opinion. Almost. While most of her was merely frightened, there was a part of her that just wanted the ordeal over with. These anxious moments spent waiting for the signal to attack were endless.

Lindir shifted next to her. "Have mercy on us, Nameless One, and end this wait!" he growled softly.

"Personally, I'd rather we just didn't have to fight at all," Kavila whispered back.

"So we all wish. But if we did not fight now, the burdens of war would fall again upon our children." Lindir replied. "I would not leave them such a task."

"No," Kavila agreed. Before she could say more, several riders left the front of the army and started toward the Black Gate.

MEGAN watched the Lords of the West ride forth, their armor gleaming even in the darkness, and wondered once again how she could be standing here. None of it was supposed to exist, none of it was supposed to be happening. If, a few weeks ago, someone had suggested that Megan would be standing upon this battlefield awaiting the beginning of the Battle of the Black Gates, she would have filed a warning about them with the counselors. Now, she was pretty certain that anyone she met from Earth would do the same for her if she ever tried to describe this scene.

Aragorn had arranged his men upon two of the slag-hills, separated from the Black Gates by a marsh and a blackened plain that now seemed all too narrow. Megan and Sarah had been put with Gandalf and Aragorn upon one hill, and Imrahil and Eomer upon the other. The men stood in ranks upon the slopes and the ground between the hills and the marsh, Rohan and Gondor, cavalry and infantry all together.

Gandalf, Aragorn, the sons of Elrond, Eomer, Imrahil, Legolas and Gimli, and Pippin had all ridden forth to meet with the leaders of the Enemy forces. Megan could hear little of what they were saying, except for faint calls borne back to her by the foul-smelling wind.

Yet the answer of Mordor was clear, as the gates drew back with an ominous rumble. A small party came forth, though more forces were visible behind them. Megan felt a shudder run through her as she caught sight of the foremost rider; even this far away, she could sense the evil of this figure. It could only be one creature.

The Mouth of Sauron had come.

EVEN AS the Captains were about to turn away, the silence was broken suddenly. The middle door of the Black Gate was thrown open, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower.

At its head there rode a tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dur he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: "I am the Mouth of Sauron." Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed.

"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this."

Aragorn took the other's eye and held it, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!" he cried.

"Where such laws hold," said Gandalf, "it is also the custom for ambassadors to use less insolence. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done."

"So!" said the Messenger. "Then thou art the spokesman, old greybeard? This time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf; and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee."

There to the wonder and dismay of all the Captains he held up first a short sword such as Sam had carried, and next a grey cloak with an elven-brooch, and last the coat of mithril-mail that Frodo had worn. A blackness came before their eyes, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that the world stood still, but their hearts were dead and their last hope gone. Pippin who stood behind Prince Imrahil sprang forward with a cry of grief.

"Silence!" said Gandalf sternly; but the Messenger laughed aloud.

"So you have yet another of these imps with you!" he cried. "What use you find in them I cannot guess. Still, I thank him, for it is plain that this brat at least has seen these tokens before, and it would be vain for you to deny them now."

"I do not wish to deny them," said Gandalf. "But why do you bring them here?"

"Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West, and spy from the little rat-land of the Shire—here are the marks of a conspiracy. Now, maybe he that bore these things was a creature that you would not grieve to lose, and maybe otherwise; one dear to you, perhaps?"

He saw their faces grey with fear and the horror in their eyes, and he laughed again, for it seemed to him that his sport went well. "He was dear to you, I see. Or else his errand was one that you did not wish to fail? It has. And now he shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive. This shall surely be—unless you accept my Lord's terms."

"Name the terms," said Gandalf steadily, but those nearby saw the anguish in his face. They did not doubt that he would accept.

"These are the terms," said the Messenger. "The rabble of Gondor and its deluded allies shall withdraw at once beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never again to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of the Anduin shall be Sauron's forever, solely. West of the Anduin as far as the Misty Mountains and the Gap of Rohan shall be tributary to Mordor, and men there shall bear no weapons, but shall have leave to govern their own affairs."

But Gandalf said: "This is much to demand for the delivery of one servant: that your Master should receive in exchange what he must else fight many a war to gain! Or has the field of Gondor destroyed his hope in war, so that he falls to haggling? And if indeed we rated this prisoner so high, what surety have we that Sauron the Base Master of Treachery will keep his part?"

It seemed then to Gandalf, intent, that for the taking of a breath the Messenger was at a loss; yet swiftly he laughed again.

"Do not bandy words in your insolence with the Mouth of Sauron!" he cried. "Surety you crave! Sauron gives none. If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding. These are his terms. Take them or leave them!"

"These we will take!" said Gandalf suddenly. He cast aside his cloak and a white light shone forth like a sword in that black place. Before his upraised hand the foul Messenger recoiled, and Gandalf coming seized and took from him the tokens. "But as for your terms, we reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves!"

Then the Messenger of Mordor laughed no more. His face was twisted with amazement and anger. But he looked at the fell faces of the Captains and their deadly eyes, and fear overcame his wrath. He gave a great cry, and leaped upon his steed, and galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. But as they went his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

THE MEETING over, Adrienne watched with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as the Lords of the West rode back to their army. Gandalf seemed to be carrying some things, but she couldn't be sure…

As soon as he was within earshot, Aragorn began shouting orders. The men surged into movement, taking their places atop the two hills of rocky debris. Erin and Adrienne managed to stay together, following the men around them to the left hill. There they were placed in the second row of men, facing towards the Black Gate and the oncoming army.

Once they were in place, Adrienne's horse began to snort and whicker nervously. Adrienne tried to calm him with soft pats and words, but the horse's anxiety was fed by the fear and anticipation of the company around him, and he would not be calmed.

Adrienne watched with mounting horror as the boundless ranks of Sauron's army approached, snarling and bellowing with hatred and bloodlust. She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped at the great mire that stretched in front of the slag-hills, but it was short-lived. The foul creatures produced bows and crossbows and launched a hail of arrows into the men, several falling near enough to make Adrienne's heart skip a beat.

Caelef grew more nervous beneath her as the screams of injured men and horses rose up around them. Adrienne had no more time for soothing words, however.

Behind the Orcs came tall, lumbering creatures that made Adrienne's heart sink. Trolls. And these trolls looked very mean indeed, especially as they sloshed through the mire without pausing, bellowing wordless challenges at their enemies. They carried giant, hammer-shaped clubs that looked like they would hurt quite a bit when making contact with a human body.

The riders in front visibly braced themselves for the trolls' onslaught, as Adrienne offered a thank-you to the gods for stopping the hail of Orc arrows. Perhaps they didn't have good enough aim, and feared to hit the trolls; or maybe they couldn't see well enough around the bulky creatures. Whatever the reason, the lack of projectiles made the situation slightly less complicated.

But only slightly. Adrienne still had to worry about dodging a troll wielding a sledgehammer, while riding a skittish horse. The troll was near now, maybe twenty feet away, and closing fast. There was only one row of men between her and the beast, and Adrienne had a feeling that wouldn't be enough.

Dimly she registered the sounds of fierce clashes at other points along the line of defense. Our troll is slow, she thought with a slightly hysterical mental laugh. Maybe that means he'll be easier to kill.

Then the troll crashed into the line of men, a single great swipe of its club incapacitating nearly four men. Their horses reared, screaming in fear, and ran.

That was all it took. Caelef's eyes rolled as he raised up onto his hind legs, Adrienne clinging on for dear life. Then she saw the club, which the troll was swinging in a second strike headed straight for Adrienne. She let go of the reins, letting Caelef's momentum toss her backwards. The blow missed her narrowly, instead impacting sharply with the back of Caelef's neck. The horse screamed one last time as he went down in a heap, motionless.

Adrienne stood shakily, fighting back a scream as her ankle exploded in pain. So falling off her horse hadn't been the brightest idea. Around her men scattered, their terrified horses trying desperately to flee. Quickly Adrienne looked to her left: Erin was picking herself up off the ground, and Greda was nowhere in sight.

Adrienne heard a growl and glanced up, finding the troll mere feet away, regarding her angrily. With a start Adrienne noticed the club was again on a downward path toward her, an overhead strike that looked particularly powerful. She leaped backward, the club missing her by inches to bury itself deep in the rocky earth. Adrienne marveled at the power behind that stroke, and decided she really didn't want to know what would have happened if she hadn't dodged.

While the less-than-intelligent troll was occupied with freeing its club, Adrienne ran to Erin and hauled her friend to her feet. "You attack from this side, I'll attack from the other. Alternate the attacks to confuse him!" Adrienne yelled, and Erin nodded hurriedly, her face twisted in pain. Falling from a horse had probably hurt her even more than it had hurt Adrienne.

A growl behind her alerted Adrienne to the fact that the troll had freed its club. Time to put the plan into action.

Adrienne made a run for the troll's other side, while Erin darted in with the first attack to distract it. The troll turned to face her, snarling as it brought the club around in a wide arc. Erin leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Adrienne took the opportunity Erin gave her once she had reached the troll's broad back, driving her sword as deeply as she could into the coarse hide near the spine. She didn't think she was strong enough to actually damage the creature's spine, which was probably very thick.

The creature howled in pain, whirling to face her and wrenching the sword from her grip. Shit…oh, dear God, was Adrienne's only thought as she drew her knife, hoping against hope that it would be enough protection. It had worked for Aragorn, hadn't it? Or at least Viggo Mortensen…

The troll snarled and brought its huge club down in another overhead strike. Again Adrienne dodged, and the weapon was trapped in the earth. You never learn, do you, stupid creature? She slashed at the troll's arm with her knife, but the tiny blade did little damage against the tough hide.

She was concentrating so hard on the troll's straining arm, she never saw the other coarse-skinned hand that reached down and grabbed her by the legs.

ERIN HEARD the troll's howl of pain, and saw the reason for it when the creature turned to face Adrienne. The sword in its back was embedded at least a foot deep. However, Erin quickly realized that the sword's presence in the troll's back meant that Adrienne was as good as unarmed; her little knife wouldn't harm it much.

She saw the troll raise his club in an overhead strike and waited for the club to strike the ground, confident in Adrienne's ability to dodge the blow. Once again, the troll managed to trap its weapon in the earth.

With Adrienne defenseless, Erin knew she had to do something soon. Her friend could only hold out against the troll's blows so long without a weapon to fight back.

Suddenly an idea came to her, and she sprang into movement. Sheathing her sword, she ran forward until she came to the troll's broad back, which was bent as it attempted to retrieve its club. Using her hands to steady her, she climbed quickly up to its neck, where she found a metal collar so dusty it seemed part of the troll's coarse hide. Even as she grabbed the collar with her left hand, the troll reared up, thrashing as it tried to dislodge the presence upon its back. Erin held on for dear life as she was tossed about, wrapping her legs around its throat in a stranglehold.

She saw with horror that as the troll had straightened, it had grabbed Adrienne by the feet, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around with one hand. With the other the troll attempted to reach Erin, its club forgotten in front of it. Erin knew she had to act soon, or the troll would manage to get ahold of her and her opportunity would be lost.

Putting all her strength and anger behind it, Erin drew her sword and plunged it into the back of the creature's neck. The troll paused its frantic movements, groaning in surprise. Erin took advantage of the pause and let go of the collar with her left hand, using both hands to drive the sword in farther.

At this the troll seemed to realize that it was dying, and resumed its attempts to dislodge her. As she let go of the sword and grabbed hold of the collar with both hands, Erin thought she saw Adrienne go flying, but she was being jerked about so fiercely that she put little trust in her vision. The troll's bellows were deafening as it took a single, stumbling step before falling to its knees. With a last, pitiful groan, it collapsed in death.

Just before it hit the ground Erin managed to jump off, rolling as she hit the ground. Her left side exploded in pain, and she forced back a scream. For a few dazed moments she lay where she fell, and then she heard Adrienne frantically calling her name. "Erin! Erin, are you all right? Erin!"

She raised her head, then put her arms beneath her and lifted her torso up, fighting to ignore the pain that ripped through her left side. It's probably reopened, a distant mental voice informed her. She paid it no heed, getting her legs under her and standing, albeit shakily. A moment's consideration was given to the pain lancing through her legs, telling her she had at the very least pulled some muscles, but then she turned her attention to Adrienne.

Adrienne was facing her with wide eyes, standing amongst a group of men, her hauberk long gone. The men were regarding her with open astonishment, but she ignored them, stumbling forward on legs that probably hurt far worse than Erin's. They hugged briefly, both mumbling reassurances and exclamations of relief. Then Erin drew back and looked at Adrienne critically. "Can you still fight?"

Adrienne nodded briefly. "Hell yeah, I can fight. No one troll is going to keep me away from battle!"

Erin rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase this. Can you walk?"

Adrienne glared. "Yes. Let's go get our swords."

Erin looked back at the swamp, which the Orcs were swiftly detouring. "Yes, lets. I think we're going to need them soon."

AS THE trolls charged the front lines of the battle, a single thought repeated itself in Kavila's mind. Oh my god, we're all going to die. There were at least a dozen trolls, all just as big and fierce-looking as the cave troll from the Fellowship of the Ring. Behind them the Orcs were already looking for a way around the swamp that blocked their path, and the shrieks of the Nazgul pierced the sky. Sauron's army seemed to have no end, pouring out of the Black Gate and swarming over the plain like vicious ants.

At least three of the trolls were making directly for the middle part of the army, which was arrayed between the two hills. There Kavila and Lindir stood, with several rows of men between them and the approaching trolls. This, however, did not comfort Kavila. She remembered well the havoc that a single troll had been able to wreak in the Fellowship of the Ring…and now there were three, headed in her direction!

Lindir must have noticed her terror. "Do not fear, Kavila," he reassured her. "I am here, and will keep you safe. There are many men here who will help me."

Kavila was not reassured. The trolls were charging across the remaining distance, the earth shaking beneath their lumbering weight, their clubs raised high over their backs. As they reached the first line of men they brought the weapons down in wide arcs, sending men flying with the force of their blows. Kavila grabbed Lindir's arm and buried her face in his shoulder, wishing there were some way to stop the screams from reaching her ears.

Suddenly the men around her gave a shout of joy, and Kavila heard a familiar and welcome voice. "Fear not, my lady, I have come to protect you as I promised!"

Kavila raised her head, and there before her stood Legolas, bow in hand, golden hair streaming behind him as he let fly arrow after arrow at the hateful trolls. Two of the great creatures fell with his green-fletched arrows buried in their flesh, and he was aiming for a third when a paralyzing shriek rang out behind them.

Legolas whirled, an expression upon his face that Kavila had never before seen: fear. She too turned, and the sight that greeted her sent her tumbling into unconsciousness. Bearing down upon them, its dragonlike steed so close she could see the individual teeth in its hideous mouth, was one of the black Nazgul.

I was right. We're all going to die, was her last thought before darkness claimed her vision.

MEGAN watched with horror from her high vantage point atop the hill as the vast army of Sauron streamed out of the Black Gate and toward the Men of the West. The black tide was stopped only when it reached the marshlands that were the Men's only defense.

But the relief was short, as the hail of Orc arrows began to fall among the men. Megan cringed as soldiers throughout the army went down with shouts of pain. She marveled briefly at the range of the Orc bows, which were wounding men even many feet up the hillside.

Suddenly a soldier a few feet to her left fell, an Orc arrow embedded in his arm. Several of his fellow soldiers knelt next to him, but they could do little to help him. In vain they wished for bows with which to strike back at their enemies.

Megan was moving even before the man had hit the ground. Each scream from the soldiers pierced her heart and awakened in her a healer's desire to help. She could not stand by and watch as good men suffered needlessly.

Megan pushed her way through the ranks until she reached the man who had been injured. His friends looked up hopefully, but their faces fell when they saw the armor-dressed soldier coming towards them. "We need a healer!" one of the men called.

"I am a healer!" Megan replied as she reached them, ignoring the incredulous stares directed her way as the men realized she was a woman dressed for battle. She knelt to examine the wound, immediately realizing she would need to pull the arrow soon. It had been poisoned.

She didn't have time to search for someone with clean bandages. Tearing a piece of fabric from her cloak and cringing at its dirtiness, she prepared to pull the arrow. She looked up at the man once for confirmation, and he nodded. "Pull it."

Megan wasted no more time. She quickly removed the arrow, wincing as she saw the way the flesh was swelling and turning scarlet with infection. The poison was doing its work. She tied the improvised bandage as tightly as she dared, and met the soldier's eyes once more. His face was twisted in pain, but he nodded his thanks as she made to rise.

"Can you walk?" she asked him. When he looked at her quizzically, she continued. "I need to get you to the chief healer, who has the herbs for the Orc poison."

He nodded briefly, and struggled to his feet. Megan supported him as best she could, and they started off down the hill. The healers had been positioned in the center of the army, and that was where the medications would be.

Suddenly the volume of cries escalated and Megan heard the sound of metal clashing together: the sound of warfare. She looked toward the battlefront and saw several large trolls swinging hammer-like clubs in wide arcs, injuring four or five men at a time.

Megan turned away, concentrating on getting her charge to the healers. She could help tend to the other injured later—and from the looks of the battle, there would be many.

With a start she noticed Legolas's distinctive blond hair near the center of the army, where the healers were located. But of course, she thought with a smile. Kavila is one of the healers. Legolas was rapidly firing arrows at the trolls, and looked to be doing quite a bit of damage.

Megan was still several feet away when she sensed something and looked up. Her eyes went wide and she froze in her tracks: a Nazgul was coming, diving down out of the sky, headed straight for this part of the army. Legolas. He was inflicting grave injuries on the trolls, and the Nazgul was coming to do something about it.

The Nazgul shrieked in challenge as it leveled out of its dive, and the elven prince whirled. He hesitated only a second as the Nazgul glided closer, the sheer power of its wings knocking men back as they attempted to bring it down. The great bow of Lothlorien arched, and the arrow flew with unfaltering precision toward the slender, snakelike neck.

When the arrow hit it the Nazgul screamed again, this time in pain. But it had only thirty feet left before it would reach Legolas, and did not intend to back off until it had finished its task. Legolas didn't have enough time to shoot again, and he seemed to realize this, slinging his bow over his back and reaching for his knives.

He never drew them. Lightning-fast, a brown blur shot down from the sky, attaching itself to the Nazgul with a distinctive cry that Megan instantly recognized. Even as the new arrival disengaged from the foul beast and clawed its way to higher altitudes, a challenging cry ringing behind it, Megan heard Gandalf's voice calling, "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

A little late, Gandalf, Megan thought. Her attention, however, was drawn outward again as the Nazgul wheeled from its attacker with a piercing cry and streaked toward the Black Gate. Sauron was calling them—to stop Frodo! Megan glanced up and saw the single Nazgul joined by several more, all bound toward Mount Doom.

She turned to look at Mordor, even as the sounds of warfare died away for a moment. The Orcs quailed, and the few trolls left stopped their assault as if they were listening for a call that did not come. Then the Men of the West, seeing their enemy's sudden fear, pressed forward with cries of challenge.

But once again Gandalf's voice rang out over the battlefield. "Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom!"

SARAH craned her head, trying to see the Black Gate from her position upon the side of the southern hill. She could hear Orcs, and the earth shook beneath the pounding of their feet. Then her ears picked up another sound, a bellowing roar she didn't recognize.

A huge, lumbering creature came around the side of the hill, wading through the army as if it were water and knocking them out of the way just as easily with its great club. A cave troll. And it was headed straight for her.

Beside her, Kalva sucked in a sharp breath. Sarah could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he took several steps toward the troll. He couldn't stand the idea that his fellow solders were being injured and he was doing nothing to help them.

"Kalva, don't!" Sarah cried, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him from approaching the troll. At the rate it was going it would attack them eventually anyway.

"I cannot stand by!" he answered, wrenching his arm from her grip. He broke into a run, joining the circle of men that was forming around the troll. Sarah shook her head in exasperation and followed him. She had made a decision to stand at his side, and she wasn't going to abandon him now.

Just as she reached Kalva, the troll turned toward another part of the circle, presenting his left side to Kalva and Sarah. Kalva took the opportunity, darting toward the troll and slashing at its side. The troll bellowed, whirling, and Kalva's sword was wrenched from its skin. He managed to maintain a grip on it, and began to retreat back to the edge of the circle. He didn't look up, and didn't see the club coming straight for him.

"Kalva! Look out!" Sarah screamed, taking an involuntary step forward as the club neared Kalva's form.

Kalva glanced up, pausing only a moment before throwing himself to the side. He wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow; it glanced off his left arm, spinning him around once before he landed hard on the ground.

He didn't move.

Sarah stared for a few moments in utter shock, and then an empowering anger filled her. How dare that creature harm Kalva!

With a cry of fury Sarah charged the troll, all thoughts of fear driven from her mind by the image of that club hitting Kalva. Caution, however, she still had plenty of; she would be little help to Kalva if she got herself injured. As the club swung down toward her, Sarah threw herself forward, feeling the wind against the back of her head as the club barely missed her. She drove her sword as hard as she could into the underside of the troll's upper arm, feeling the muscles shudder as the pain shot through them.

The troll roared in pain as it registered the wound. Sarah used all her weight to free her sword from the troll's arm, throwing herself prostrate on the ground as the troll struck again with its club. Once again she leaped up and stabbed with her sword, this time in the wrist of the troll's other arm, severing the blood vessels there. As she once again pulled her sword from the troll's tough flesh, black blood flowed out in a torrent that she barely avoided.

The other soldiers had taken advantage of her attack to mount their own assault on the creature, hacking at its back and legs and driving their swords into its belly. With a last, agonized moan, the troll collapsed onto its back, several men scurrying out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed.

Sarah stared at the corpse for a few seconds, then turned and raced toward the place where she had last seen Kalva's crumpled form. He's not dead…he can't be…he'll be sitting up and asking me what I was so worried about, it's just a broken arm…Sarah thought as she frantically searched the battlefield for him.

Finally she caught sight of a slim, brown-haired form. Gently rolling the soldier over, she came face to face with Kalva's pale features. His eyes were still closed, and his left arm was bent at odd angles that Sarah tried not to notice.

Her heard pounding, she felt for his pulse. There! It was weak, but it was there! She put her ear to his mouth, and yes, he was breathing! For a few moments Sarah merely sat there, grinning in joy. Kalva was alive! Everything was all right.

Then she caught sight of his arm again. He needs a healer, Sarah thought. She shook his shoulder gently; it would be easier to move him if he was able to walk with support. But he did not awake.

Sarah jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," the soldier said. "You both fought well."

Sarah was confused for a few seconds. Sorry? For what? Then she realized how Kalva must look. "Oh, he's still alive! He's just unconscious. I need to get him to a healer."

There was a pause of several seconds as the man registered her feminine voice. Sarah looked up at him hopefully, and he seemed to shake himself. "I shall help you. Where must we go?" the man asked.

Sarah beamed. "To the center of the army. I know one of the healers there, and she can help us."

The man bent to pick Kalva up, carefully avoiding the broken arm. Then he nodded to Sarah, and she set off towards the center of the army. Sarah blocked out the sounds of fighting and the piercing cries of the Nazgul that invaded her ears as they flew over the field.

As they were coming over the hill one of the Nazgul's screams exploded in her ears, and a moment later the creature shot past her into the sky. The soldier beside her watched with wide eyes as a brown blur met the black creature in the air, screaming a familiar cry, followed by Gandalf's shout. "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

A grin spread over Sarah's face as she realized the implications of that shout. The battle was nearly over. As if echoing her thoughts, Gandalf's voice rose again over the tumult of the battle. "Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom."

ERIN AND Adrienne stood together with the other soldiers, faces the very image of rapture. And even as they waited the ground beneath them began to toss and turn as if rocked by an earthquake, and the Towers of the Black Gate swayed and fell with a crash that sent up a storm of dust. The Gates collapsed as well, and behind them Erin saw a great darkness, like a bank of particularly vicious storm clouds, tower up suddenly in the sky, flickers of red fire appearing within the cloud. After a few moments of staring Erin realized what it was. "Adrienne! Look!" she pointed. "Mount Doom is erupting!"

Adrienne gasped and looked with her. "Thank the Valar!" she said in a voice quavering with emotion. Erin glanced at her friend, and saw that there were tears streaming down her face. With a start she noted that her own face was wet with tears of joy. She beamed at Adrienne, and Adrienne beamed back, reaching out to hug her. "He did it!" Erin whispered in Adrienne's ear. "Frodo did it!"

MEGAN watched with a vague, tired feeling of joy as the Black Gate collapsed in ruin. It was over. The battle was done, the Orcs already fleeing as the symbols of their leader's power crumbled before them. Megan was about to turn away, when movement within Mordor caught her eye. There was a great shadow building in the distance, forming into a vaguely human shape, lightning forming a flickering crown upon its head. It grew taller and taller, until Megan was certain it would pierce the clouds. An arm-like appendage branched from it, reaching closer and closer until it was directly over them. Megan looked up fearfully, unsure what horrors this shadow might send down upon them, but then a western wind came up and the shadow was dispersed. Sauron was truly destroyed, his realm demolished, his power dissipated like dust in the wind.

The Battle for Middle Earth was ended.