Chapter 26

Conflict

The morning drew on agonisingly as a weak sun shone through the churning grey clouds above. The initial Easterling attack had been an attempt to use their catapults. King Elessar had ensured that the Gondorians stayed out of range and so the weapons had little effect save to raise the level of fear among the men of the West as they stood and watched the heavy boulders hurled at them and landing to make scars in the landscape of the plain before them.

The van of the Easterling army then began to move forward. They came at a fast pace, their swords banging on their shields as the rest of their army behind screamed their encouragement.

Aragorn sensed the wave of disquiet growing as it washed through the men behind him. He wished a decisive first engagement to give his men courage. He turned his head to his left where Elphir, Legolas and Gimli waited patiently. King Elessar gave the signal with a drop of his hand. The Gondorian cavalry accompanied by the Ithilien elves surged forward. Behind them going at a slower pace but no less resolute, and with one of their favourite drinking songs being roared from every throat, came the squat but powerful forms of the dwarves, each eager to join the fray.

To the north, due to the incline of the land and the hovering mists, it was impossible to see the main battlefield area. The White Company stood oblivious to how the rest of the battle fared as the orcs crossed the marshy land on the riverbank in wave after wave. On the first three occasions the lethal bows of the Rangers had worked their magic, repelling the enemy with very few casualties for the Gondorians. However on the fourth occasion the orcs had reached the White Company's line. The combat was at close quarters. It was vicious and deadly. As the line threatened to break, Faramir was astride Daisy, sword flashing in his hand, galloping its length beseeching his men to stand firm.

The line held and the orcs were once more forced back into the water from where they retreated into the mists.

Faramir slowed Daisy to a walk and pattered him gently. Around him his lieutenants were talking with the men, easing their fears. Faramir picked out Anborn's gruff voice, congratulating his men on their accurate bowmanship and taking a count of the arrows remaining. He stopped his horse beside the Ranger Captain.

"How goes it, Captain?" he asked.

Anborn growled as he looked up. "Well, my lord," he said in a voice which was much too loud and cheery.

Faramir noted the warning flash in the other man's eyes. He had known Anborn for most of his life and he could read instantly the concern behind the bravado. It was not going well at all.

The Steward slid from his horse and positioned Daisy between the men and Anborn and himself to ensure their conversation was as private as possible.

"How many lost?" he murmured.

"Eight, Sir," Anborn said. "And three too far gone to fight more."

Faramir did not meet the other man's eyes, instead he looked out across the mists, his jaw set firm. Eleven Rangers lost already out of a squad of thirty. He knew the losses of the White Company were equally distressing.

"How many arrows left?"

Anborn bit his lip matter-of-factly. "We have recovered some, so we have enough for at least three more attacks."

Faramir nodded and glanced at the sun. He judged it could only be the eleventh hour of the day although it felt much later. There would be many more than three attacks to face. Faramir placed his arm around Anborn's broad shoulders.

"Do the best you can," he hissed in his ear. "We have to hold this ground."

Anborn snorted. "Of course, my lord."

They walked around Daisy together and as they came into sight and hearing of the men, Faramir said in a loud voice. "Your men do Gondor credit as always, Captain Anborn."

Anborn nodded as Faramir released him and leapt lithely back into his saddle. Their eyes met and each inclined his head slightly in respect. Faramir gently eased Daisy forward back along the White Company line towards the banner where he could see Borlas and Elboron taking a chance to rest and clean their swords between attacks.

As he drew nearer to them the ground seemed to quake. Both young officers turned to the south, as did Faramir. He could see nothing through the mists that enveloped the lowland they were on but his soldier instincts told him that the cavalry were charging into action on the higher ground. He wondered if they were friend or foe, judging from the nearness of the rumbling and his knowledge of Aragorn's plan, he assumed it would be the Gondorian cavalry lead by his cousin Elphir along with Legolas' elves. He could see nothing however, through the dreary fog that gave him any indication of whether his assumption was true.

An inhuman howl rent through the air to be joined by many others. Faramir was aware of the men in front of him stiffen noticeably as they sought to find their courage once more.

"Hold you line," he ordered as he noted a number of men shrinking away from the fog that swirled before them and had now become a dark mass of uruks growing with every step as they rushed towards them.

Within seconds the orcs threw themselves onto the White Company. The line held in most areas. There was the smell of smoke and blood on the air but stronger still was the stench of fear. Men died brutally and savagely ripped from their places by the huge orcs who screamed their menace.

Faramir's eyes ran along the line and were drawn back to the weakness he had noted earlier. As he watched, men were ripped from their places and the line buckled and broke. Faramir drew his sword and urged Daisy forward to the breach. Suddenly he was in the middle of the chaos, swinging his sword left and right, carving through the skulls of the orcs and pushing them away with his feet. He could feel strong arms trying to take hold of his legs, trying to pull him down but he resisted the urge. He forced his sword instead to cleave the hands and arms that tried to unseat him. Daisy, warhorse of Rohan, used his steel clad hooves to flatten any luckless orc that strayed into his path.

Eventually Faramir sensed that the uruks seemed to be falling back and he was able to glance around. Behind him he could see soldiers from the White Company rushing to help him fill the gap in the line. He thrust his sword into another brute on his left and turned to do battle on his right.

It was then that he became aware of dark movement above him and a scream rent the air; a scream that opened the vaults of his memory where such horror had long since been locked and forgotten.

"Nazgul!" shouted a frenzied voice behind him that could have belonged to Anborn.

It could not be, not here, not now! The rational thought rushed into Faramir's baffled mind. The Nine were long gone and yet above him the grey sky was full of the evil dark forms of the fell beasts. The screams coming from the figures were almost as painful to the ears as he remembered from long ago. Almost, but not quite. Faramir peered upwards, squinting to see through the grey, clinging fog. He saw that riders of the fell beasts were not Sauron's evil minions but men, only men!

"Aim for their riders!" he shouted. "Bring them down!"

The riders of the fell beasts were armed with bows and as they swooped low through the mist an evil rain of black shafted goblin arrows fell on the men of the White Company.

Daisy reared below him and Faramir fought to bring him back under control but as he did so a fell beast flashed past them. Three arrows fell in quick succession. One landed in the fleshy part of Faramir's thigh but the others landed deep into the chest of his trusted steed. Daisy reared once more and let out a shuddering scream. He fell backwards, spilling Faramir on to the wet ground. The horse laid still, blood rushing forth from the two wounds in his chest. He shuddered and his breathing rattled through widened nostrils.

Faramir lay some distance away on the ground, fighting to win back the breath his fall had stolen from him. His vision was dimmed; he had hit his head causing it to throb painfully but gradually his senses returned. The colourless and chaotic battlefield came back into his focus with a fearful rush. He saw Daisy lying on his side, his body heaving with noisy, painful breaths. The horse's eyes stared dumbly at his master as blood dripped from his mouth and nostrils.

Anger, dark and searing stoked the fire in Faramir's heart then. Ignoring the pain in his head and the dull ache in his thigh he pulled himself to his knees. Above him the fell beasts wheeled in the sky and then swooped picking off men of the White Company at will. Faramir looked across to the line. His men were suffering under terrific strain but still they held. He knew he had to stop the fell beasts, he had to do something that would relight his men's courage and, not least in his thoughts, was the need to repay his enemy for Daisy.

Faramir glanced about himself. Beside him was the body of a Ranger, his sightless brown eyes staring blindly at the slaughter of the field, his face strangely peaceful in its death mask. The Ranger's hand still gripped his long bow. After placing his sword back in its scabbard, Faramir very gently prised the man's fingers away and picked up the bow. He pulled the five remaining arrows for the quiver at the man's side, discarding one that had been broken as the Ranger fell. Then using the bow as a crutch he pulled himself slowly to his feet.

Around him the battle roared but Faramir was oblivious to it all. He forced his trembling body to be still, placed his feet apart, removed his helmet and let out a long sigh as he tested the bow's strength.

"Thank you, friend," he muttered to the fallen Ranger. "'Tis a good bow."

The black shaft of the orc arrow protruded from Faramir's thigh and his leg threatened to start twitching but he ignored it. Instead he focused on the fell beasts above. They ruled the sky now, swooping down without mercy. Faramir put all but one of his arrows into his mouth, biting the shafts firmly. The last he notched on to his bowstring, pulling it back as far as he could. He let out a long deep breath, forced away the noise and stink about him and made himself relax.

Away to his left a fell beast rider had noted the Steward's act of defiance, as he stood alone in an ocean of corpses, bow ready. With the scream he had perfected to imitate as closely as he could the blood-curdling cry of the nazgul, the rider turned his beast in a large arc and pressed it to swoop down on the waiting lone archer.

Elboron and Borlas had seen Daisy fall but both had been unable to reach the Steward. Now, as he dispatched an orc, Elboron saw his father rise from the carnage and notch an arrow to his bow.

"Father!" he shouted.

But Faramir was in a powerful place where no human voice could reach him. He was calm and assured, breathing deeply and slowly, his whole being concentrating on the shot he was about to take. As the fell beast turned to begin its run towards him the Steward smiled grimly. His world consisted only of the dark shape in the sky; he watched it along the shaft of his arrow growing with every beat of its enormous wings. As it came nearer Faramir waited as a spider sits motionless in its web awaiting the fly.

Borlas heard Elboron's cry and he too hesitated at the spectacle in front of them. Other men around them who had witnessed their Prince's fall and began to lose hope, watched open mouthed. It was as if time, at least in this particular part of the battle, had stopped.

The fell beast rider started firing too soon, his arrow landing yards away from where Faramir stood. Faramir did not flinch; his muscles as tight as his bowstring, his left arm taunt and his right hand close to his right ear, in the pose he had practised long and hard. He took one last long breath and then he let his first arrow fly. He did not wait to see its impact but grabbed the next one from his mouth, notched it, adjusted his aim slightly and fired. He repeated the motion twice more and only then did he allow his eyes to see what the effect had been on his enemy.

The first arrow hit the rider square in his chest as he sought to ready himself for his next shot. It pushed him back into his saddle and there his lifeless body remained as the other three arrows hit the fell beast in its chest area as it came on towards Faramir. It screeched in agony, flapped its wings desperately trying to gain height but unable to find the strength to do so and then it plunged head first into the dirt, its momentum carrying it forward until it came to a stop only yards away from where Faramir stood, bow in hand, in a small cloud of dust.

The White Company let out a wild cheer and finding new heart, the men lurched forwards, pushing the orcs back into the river and forcing them to retreat once more. The surviving fell beasts, finding themselves battered by many arrows from the reinvigorated Rangers, likewise retreated out of range.

Elboron and Borlas rushed to where Faramir stood and tried to help him back behind the lines. Faramir glanced over his shoulder to where Daisy lay.

"Wait," he commanded, shrugging off the supporting hands.

He hobbled back to the still suffering horse and knelt painfully beside him. Daisy whined and tried to lift his head but fell back weakly.

"Easy, my friend," Faramir breathed, as he stroked the horse's shivering neck with one hand and fumbled for the knife at his belt with the other. It was no use, he could tell there was naught anyone could do to save the horse and he wished to ease Daisy's pain as much as he could.

Elboron looked away, gulping back his tears as his father dispatched his much-loved horse as humanely as he could.

"Go to the fields of your ancestors," Faramir whispered as he bent low and kissed Daisy's forehead. "Run with the mearas!"