Chapter 25

Defiance

The sky was grey and angry. Clouds rumbled above as dawn lightened the scene to the colourless shade of the day. Already the heat was rising from the ground causing small clouds of mist to hang over the field. On the riverbank, where Faramir had left his men, the fog was so dense it made it impossible to see further than twenty feet. It was an eerie place, made more frightening by the inhuman noises coming from the other bank. Faramir had not wanted to leave his men for he could sense their disquiet as it grew, but he knew he must ride out with the other Captains of the West to parley with their enemies. As he eased Daisy towards where Aragorn and the others waited for him, he worried constantly about his men.

The Steward rode along the front of the line of the Gondorian army, his experienced eye picking out the areas of weakness that their enemy would seek to exploit. He also noted the standards and the colours before him that on another occasion would have been magnificent. Firstly his own banner as Prince of Ithilien, the white background with a green tree and a golden horse, that Eowyn had had designed for them. Then he passed the Swan Knights of Dol Amroth riding their grey horses in full harness with glided banners bearing the ship and the silver swan and next to them the other Lords of Gondor with their own cavalry and colourful banners hanging limply in the still morning air. He passed a group of squat dwarves, kinsmen of Gimli, from Aglarond they had come to answer the call of the King. Next were the fair of elves of Ithilien, brethren to Legolas. They sat patiently, ageless faces showing none of the fear that Faramir perceived in the mortal Men.

As he stopped beside the King, Faramir gazed at the familiar standard of Gondor with its stars and tree. In front of him and to his right as he turned to face the enemy he saw the white horse on green banner of the Rohirrim. Galloping from where it had be placed proudly in the ground, he saw Eomer approaching. And in front of him massing out from the middle distance into the gloom the hordes of Easterlings.

As the Captains of the West joined together and set out to meet the leaders of their enemy, a strange guttural roar rose from the host before them and a rhythmic beating noise that shattered the quiet, oppressive morning. As they drew closer Faramir could see the figures were beating their spears on their shields. All of them seemed to be adorned with the mark that Pallando had told them Alatar had taken for his own; a blue eight pointed star.

They reached a point equally distant between the two armies and stopped. Aragorn flanked on one side by Legolas with Gimli and the other by Pallando. Both Faramir and Eomer waited slightly behind.

They waited for what seemed an age as their horses skittered nervously and the shield banging continued but there was no accompanying movement from the army before them.

"They mock us!" Eomer spat impatiently.

Pallando shook his head. "They test our resolve," he said. "If you turn away now, they will see it as a weakness."

Eomer snorted. "And what if I ram their spears right up their. . ."

"Enough, Eomer!" Aragorn commanded. "We wait."

They waited and then as if some signal had been given the noise suddenly stopped. A silence like death echoed across the field and Faramir felt his heart lurch, for this was more unsettling than the roar of seconds before. Then the horde in front of them parted and out rode two figures accompanied by a chariot. Behind the chariot a beautiful white mearas crossbreed mare trotted.

"'Tis Steelsheen," Eomer hissed.

Faramir squinted to see and sure enough it was Eowyn's favourite horse behind the chariot. Steelsheen was a major part of the breeding programme she was trying to establish. Heavy with foal, the horse had been lost when the Easterlings attacked Emyn Arnen.

Faramir felt a surge of anger rush through him as he noted the blue star branded on Steelsheen's rump. He took a deep breath and forced his ire away but he could sense Eomer beside him seething with barely suppressed fury.

As they came closer Faramir examined each of the figures. The lead one was dressed in a blue flowing robe similar to that of Pallando and was obviously his fellow Istari. However in bearing and aspect Alatar was very different from the other Blue Wizard. He had long greying hair and an almost white beard which reminded Faramir of Saruman. The Steward fought back a shudder as the wizard drew up before them and their eyes met. Alatar's eyes were as blue and cold as the ocean on a winter's day, they devoured all with a cursory glance, appraising swiftly, emphasising their superiority and then moving on. There was not the slightest hint of compassion or a trace of doubt there, just overwhelming distain for all. His mouth curled into a conceited sneer as those eyes came to rest at last on Pallando.

"A motley crew you have found," he spat. "Surely you would not have me give up what we fought so hard to win for such a tardy bunch?"

Pallando had blanched noticeably and his eyes appeared less bright than Faramir remembered, as if the presence of Alatar had drained him of his own intensity. "We did not come to Middle Earth to win, my old friend," he said sadly. "Do you recall why we are here?"

Alatar's eyes blazed. "You are not my friend and I recall very well what brought me here. I still follow my mission. I seek to build an empire so powerful, so invincible that the Dark Lord will never threaten us again!"

Pallando shook his head. "In defeating the monster, you have become him. Why do you not see it?"

Alatar threw back his head and laughed mockingly. "You were ever my second, my little sparrow, Pallando, surviving off the crumbs I saw fit to feed you. I should have known that one day you would betray me; even a sparrow holds dreams of becoming an eagle!"

As they traded insults, Faramir's eyes turned to the other horseman, Shanen, he surmised, as this man was clad in the fashion of a warrior from Harad, his face completely covered by his metal facemask attached to the base metal helmet on his head. Only his eyes could be seen; dark and mysterious were they and flashing with intelligence and cruelty. For a second they locked onto Faramir's and the Steward felt that, beneath his mask, the man of Harad was smiling evilly at him. Refusing to be intimidated Faramir held his stare and it was the Shanen who looked away first.

"I want nothing except the peace we were sent here to accomplish," Pallando said softly. "I fail to see how raising on army and attacking the Kingdoms of the West can possibly achieve that."

"You fail because you have no ambition, no understanding of what we actually came here to achieve, my poor little sparrow. I have given my people a reason to live, a reason to fight once more. They were lost after Sauron was defeated, vanquished and beaten but I, and only I, have given them back their pride. They worship me!" His eyes flashed with madness and Alatar turned his withering gaze on to Aragorn. "I see naught here that makes me believe I will not be successful and deliver all I have promised them."

The King sat on his horse, with his head bare save for a star upon his forehead bound by a slender fillet of mithril, beautifully wrought by eleven hands. Faramir felt Aragorn had never looked so dignified and regal but it did not seem to impress the wizard.

Alatar gazed challengingly at the King, and then said witheringly, "Elves make such beautiful things but beauty without power is nothing."

Aragorn stared grimly at him. "I am King Elessar Telcontar, also called The Elfstone of Arnor and Gondor. I ask you why you have raised an army, why you have sent it forth into my lands, and why you threaten my people."

Alatar paused before answering. "For many years I have dwelt in the east, living with its people. I bring them here now, for now is their time! Their cause is a virtuous one, for years they have suffered in their barren, sterile land. They deserve a share of the bounty of the west, which you have denied them. I have but given them the courage to fight and take their share."

Faramir looked at the third and final member of the triumvirate. Mosek the serpent, who stood on his war chariot giving off an air of indifference which was strangely at odds with his appearance, for he was clad in a battle vest of glistening gold which covered all of his torso, massive muscles rippled beneath the bronzed skin of his arms and legs. The parts of his huge body that were visible were covered in a series of massive blue tattoos. Faramir saw this was where the brute took his nickname as they were all the same design; an evil looking but intricately drawn snake. He wore no helm, his ink black curly hair was closely cropped about his face, his jaw wide and strong and his dark eyes insolent with cruelty. All this was enough to strike fear into the hearts of most men and Faramir turned away in disgust when he saw that the reports Aragorn had mentioned were true. Hanging from the chariot were a number of bloated and rotting heads, obviously the remains of the enemies that Mosek the serpent had slaughtered previously.

"They do not have any right to a share of my Kingdom," Aragon said, his voice hard but calm. "I would willing entreat with them for peace on my terms but no one will take what is mine from me."

Alatar cackled. "And why should we bargain with you, northern upstart? Gondor is weak!" He indicated the Army of the West, "Is that the best you can do? We will smash you aside and then take all of what you so arrogantly call your own. My men will surge through the west burning and killing as they go. They will be a cleansing tide; purifying and sanitising all before them, until only the chosen, those faithful to me, remain. Get on your knees now to beg and I may allow you to leave this place as my slaves but with your lives at least!"

Faramir could see Aragorn's shoulders shake with his rage but his voice was still controlled as he retorted. "I will not allow you access to my lands and neither will I beg to one such as you. Your words and your army do not frighten one such as I. Enough of talk, should you decide to attack my army then we will fight you!"

They glared at each other and then Alatar smiled. "So be it!" he pronounced.

He turned his horse around and as he did so, Eomer's voice rumbled angrily. "That is my sister's horse!"

Alatar turned towards the King of Rohan then, eyes flashing with amusement. "So the Horse Lord recognises his kin!" he mocked.

"I will personally free the horse from your foul grasp after we have sent your putrid army scurrying away to hide like the vermin they are!" Eomer vowed.

"To the victor go the spoils of war," Alatar said. "There are so many other things you hold which I will take from you once my victory is complete." As he spoke his eyes moved from Eomer's raging face to hold Faramir's stare. Before Cirion had dressed him, Faramir had pinned the Stone of Silence to his undershirt and it now rested below his mail vest. As the wizard's eyes fell upon him, he felt a disconcerting itching which soon strengthened to a burning sensation in his chest.

Alatar's mouth did not move but his voice seemed to hiss in Faramir's head, "You, Steward, would do well to run as far as you can with your little bauble for I will have it for my own and make you pay in pain for your part in Saruman's death!"

Faramir broke eye contact with the wizard as he shook his head to clear it,. Alatar laughed loudly and turned his horse back to his own lines. "Pallando, you have chosen your side. You are a traitor!" he pronounced, as his horse pranced. "Love is strong but love turned to hate is stronger; I will feed you your own heart for the hurt you have caused me!"

As the sensation in his chest stopped Faramir felt a swift thumping pain in his head and raised his hand to rub it. Nobody else moved and the Steward wondered how Alatar had spoken to him at all.

As Mosek turned his chariot, he stopped before Eomer and smiled. "Where would you like your head displayed, horse boy?" he asked in heavily accented Westron. "At the back of my chariot I think, so you will continue to eat my dust in death as in life!"

Eomer made to move forward but Faramir had regained his senses enough to reach out a restraining hand. Mosek laughed evilly and sped away, swiftly followed by Shanen.

"Come," Aragorn said. "We will achieve naught else here."

The strange inhuman noises were getting steadily louder as they echoed through the mists that hung above the river. The reeds and the bushes that could be seen through the gloom appeared to move violently.

The White Company stood in position, men staring out into the grey dimness, unsure of what was coming towards them, uncertain of what they would face. Faramir could sense the fear of his men as it grew, massing in volume until it became almost a living thing.

Faramir paused. These were his men; the White Company of Ithilien. He had spent his years in exile creating and improving them until they became the best company in the whole of the Gondorian army. He was justly proud of what they had achieved and had felt vindicated when King Elessar had given him the marshy river area to defend. He knew that they were at their peak, they could not have prepared better but still they had never been tested like this, never forced to wait and listen to the inhuman screams of foul beasts and goblins across the river.

Faramir urged Daisy forward, into a position between the river and his men. The land here was very boggy and Daisy had difficulty in keeping his feet. Undeterred Faramir looked along the line of his men, proud in their armour and helms and yet so Faramir knew they were so very young. Most of them had been but babes in arms the last time a battle on this scale had been fought. He could sense the wavering of their hearts, their terror growing still. And behind them stood the Rangers shielded by the White Company so their bows would have true effect.

"Men of the White Company! Rangers!" He cried, his voice loud and firm so it reached every ear. "We stand on a road well trod by our fathers. Proud men they were who stood at Osgiliath and the Causeway Forts, who fought for every inch of the Pelennor and guarded the walls of Minas Tirith when the darkness came, men who marched to Mordor and challenged the Dark Lord at his very gates. And through it all they kept their courage burning like a flame in their hearts. You are their sons, you have inherited their courage, their strength, their fire and now it is your turn to face the dark. You will not yield, you will not run, you will not let that long cherished flame be extinguished. All of us will keep it safe to pass on to our own sons; for we are men of Gondor!"

Elboron stood beside Nestador and Borlas his father's captains, behind them stood Anborn and Ceris of the Ithilien Rangers. Following the war council the two veterans and their men, much to their own delight, had been assigned to Faramir's command. They now stood leaning on their bows sagely commenting on the Steward's speech.

"Didn't need to do this for the Rangers in the good old days, did he?" Ceris muttered.

"You know why; that was different. Couldn't jump out before an ambush and give us the talk, could he, you dolt!" Anborn retorted. "I remember a few occasions in Hennuth Annen where he laid it on the line for us though."

Elboron smirked at their easy and confident banter. It made his hammering heart lessen slightly to know men of experience and tested bravery stood with them.

"I am minded of a scene a long time ago," Ceris mused. "He has the look of his brother this day!"

Anborn nodded. "Osgiliath," he muttered. "On the day Lord Boromir rode away," he said wistfully. "But that speech was after the victory, not before."

Elboron felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He had read of it in history books – these men had been there, with his own father, and seen it! Suddenly the young man became aware of the vast history that stretched out behind them, away from this point back into the mists of time. It seemed enormously valuable to him at that moment, and he knew in his heart, though afeared, it would be worth dying to ensure its continuity.

Faramir continued to his men. "Though the darkness of doom comes to test our faith yet will we stand firm. I have planted my banner yonder." He indicated to where Elboron and the others stood. The white banner with the green tree and golden horse hung limply with no wind to rouse it. Faramir ignored the fact as he continued. "I will not yield this ground unless my King commands it. Are you with me?"

There was a murmur from the company.

"Are you with me?" Faramir's voice was forceful and uncompromising.

"Aye!" The cry went up from every man. Anborn's bluff baritone was loudest and made Elboron smile once more.

"Then Men of the White Company and Rangers of Ithilien, my comrades, know that nothing that crosses the river can dislodge us from our path, from our place, for we are resolute." Faramir pulled his magnificent new sword from its place at his belt and lifted it high into the air.

"Here we go," muttered Ceris as the excitement grew. "Make it good, my lord!"

At that moment a shaft of sunlight broke through the mist. It hit the polished weapon in Faramir's hand causing it to flash of fire.

Ceris was not the only man to let out a gasp of exhilaration.

"Here we will stand, for Gondor!" Faramir cried.

"For Gondor!" The men returned.

"For Gondor!" Faramir felt his eyes moisten. The Rangers were not the only ones to recall the memory of Osgiliath. It leapt unbidden into his mind and clutched coldly at his heart.

"For Gondor!" the whole of the company were now shouting enthusiastically.

"For Boromir," Faramir muttered as he gently eased Daisy through the mud, behind the White Company lines. Elboron moved forward to take hold of the reins as his father slipped down from the saddle. As he did so the mist enveloped the sunlight and all became grey once more.

"Not a bad speech," Ceris said. "Have you been practising, my lord?"

"He is a statesman now, Ceris," Anborn said. "Such speeches are second nature, are they not, my lord?" His eyes twinkled.

Faramir smiled indulgently. "I requested Rangers for their skill with the bow not in order to sample their tiresome sense of humour!" he said.

"There was a time when you appreciated it!" Ceris tried hard to appear hurt.

Faramir rolled his eyes. "I was very young then!" he laughed. He appeared to become serious as a thought struck him. "Tell me, proud Ithilien Rangers, do you have need of a page?"

Ceris looked interested but Anborn shook his head violently. "No!" he said. "Though he is skilled with a bow, that second son of yours does not stop talking! He would frighten all the game not to mention alert any enemy of our presence!"

Faramir snorted. "Pity," he said. "But then again if you continue to linger here, deserting your position, I may be forced to assign him to you as punishment!"

Anborn shuddered. "Desertion is a strong word, my lord, but point taken," he said. "Come on Ceris, we know where we stand with the Steward now!" They both inclined their heads and made to leave.

Faramir gave them a friendly smile. "Indeed, you do!" he said patting them both on the back. His eyes filled with gratitude for he knew their performance had been both to lessen the fear of the young officers watching but also to lessen the melancholy that had crept into his heart along with the memories of his brother.

As the Rangers moved their men into position behind the White Company, a cry came up from along the line. Faramir turned to look and saw large dark shapes lurching out of the mist and lumbering through the river towards them.

Faramir took a deep breath. So it starts, he thought to himself. "Archers!" he shouted, "Take aim!"