Chapter 29

Monster

King Elessar watched, his face expressionless as the main body of the Easterling army began its approach.

To the south, the Rohirrim had roared down the hill like a tidal wave, washing over an empty beach. They had routed the opposing cavalry in a matter of seconds. The sons of Eorl now swept across the field pursuing the remnants of the chariots as they retreated. Aragorn squinted through the dust of the field, his keen eyes trying to pick out the familiar flowing blonde locks of the King of Rohan. In the chaos of horses, chariots and men it was impossible to make sense of much except that the Rohirrim were forcing the Easterlings back.

It had been a similar story earlier as the Gondorian cavalry and the elves had met the advancing enemy van. Aragorn had gripped his sword so tightly that his hand had lost all colour. While not unused to his current role, he personally found it very difficult to send his men into the fray without leading them himself. As if sensing his disquiet, Brego had snorted and shuffled his feet impatiently.

"Hold, Brego," Aragorn breathed to his horse. "Our time will come soon enough."

The Easterling's van had been put to the sword as Gondor's men and her allies swept through them. The dwarves had fought valiantly and ferociously; the Easterlings turned and ran. Aragorn had been able to withdraw his troops from the field and sent in the Rohirrim when he saw the chariots and the cavalry of Mosek the Serpent preparing to charge.

Now as he felt the familiar apprehension running through his own veins, Aragorn could not help but be satisfied with progress so far. He reflected on events thus far; the obviously superiorly armed and trained Gondorian army had repelled both of Alatar's previous attacks. He had received word from his Steward that, although the fighting was fierce on the marshy banks and they had been assailed by fell beasts of the air, the White Company was holding. Still Aragorn was filled with concern as he allowed his experienced eyes to run over the main body of the Easterlings now moving towards him and his army.

Gondor was vastly outnumbered but his men had already proved their superiority. He believed that Alatar's plan was simply to overwhelm his force with greater numbers. He shuddered as he picked out the massive forms of thirty or so cave trolls marching at the side of the enemy. He knew of old they were formidable opponents.

"We must make them pay dearly for every life they take," He muttered.

At his side Pallando nodded. "Absorb their strength," he counselled. "Draw Alatar out, for he will come. He will not miss the opportunity to confront me."

Aragorn sighed. "Are you strong enough to face him?" he asked again.

For once Pallando's bright smile was absent. "I am not the easy prey he assumes." His voice revealed a steely determination that Aragorn had not noted before.

The King rolled his eyes and stared at the wizard beside him. "I will have to take that as an affirmative?" he asked finally.

The wizard's smile returned. "It is all going well for us, King Elessar. I do not intend to be the one to lose and let them turn the tide. Trust me."

Aragorn nodded. "I do," he said grimly.

Then the King raised his arm and behind him the main body of his army clicked to attention.

"Let us see for ourselves the power behind Alatar's insolent words," he said.

He signalled and the Gondorian infantry began to move forward to meet its enemy.

Eldarion came to a shuddering stop. He had been so intent on picking his way through the debris of the field while ensuring he kept a wary eye on Cirion as the younger boy dodged madly around the taller soldiers on his way to the river bank, that he had not noted the horror in front of him. Not until now as he stopped beside Cirion, mouth open in shock, body paralysed by fear.

In front of the two boys where three soldiers of Gondor, the uniforms of each were ripped and torn, their faces grey from battle fatigue but their eyes flashing their fear brightly. The attention of each was on the massive creature that snarled before them. Two of the men held lances out in front of themselves as if to menace the beast while the third man lay on the ground, unable to stand, his left leg rendered useless by a gaping, bloody wound; were it not for the two lance men he would be easy prey. The creature growled at them, Eldarion thought totally unmoved by such a feeble defence. Eldarion found himself mesmerised by the overpowering revulsion of the thing before them. It was like nothing he had ever conceived of. The young Prince forced his eyes to move up the monster's face to see more horror; protruding from its left eye was the shaft of an elven arrow and from the ensuing hole, blood oozed down its face to join with the white strings of salvia that dripped from its open mouth.

"What is that?" Eldarion stuttered as he stared open mouthed at the hellish vision.

"Cave troll!" Cirion hissed.

"How did it get here?"

Cirion relaxed long enough to throw Eldarion one of his withering looks. "It must be out for its afternoon walk, you know a troll on a stroll!" he said.

Eldarion ignored the sarcasm. Instead he managed to pull his eyes from the troll to regard the helpless man on the floor. He held a sword and gave the impression of being the leader of the group. Eldarion knew this to be the case as he recognised the man instantly from the Great Council that his father had asked him to attend before they left Minas Tirith. It seemed like a lifetime ago, so much had happened to the young Prince since, but he remembered Lord Ingold, the man his father had told him had questioned the loyalty of the Lord Steward.

Ingold looked very different now from the detached and cool presence Eldarion remembered from the Council Chamber. He had lost his helm; his greying hair was mattered with sweat and gore, and plastered to his head, below which his pale face was wrinkled with fear but also grim determination. He was trying to crawl away from the troll under the cover provided by his men.

Eldarion took all this in with a quick glance as his eyes refused to stray too long from the troll. When he looked back the beast stepped forward, for although the wound to its eye would have felled any man and was obviously hurting the troll, it was not enough to stop it from fighting. It grabbed hold of the lance of the man nearest to it. The great muscles in its forearms bulged as it lifted the soldier from his feet. It reached along the shaft and its huge hands grabbed hold of the soldier as he screamed in agony. The troll cocked its head quizzically and then with brute strength simply ripped off the man's head. The screaming stopped instantly. The lifeless body fell describing a prefect arc of blood as it did so and hit the ground with a dull thud. The troll dropped the detached head and squashed it with his foot.

"Easy," Lord Ingold breathed as the others let out varying signs of dismay.

The troll looked at them, greedily licking its lips.

The remaining soldier, eager not to share the same fate as his comrade, stepped back to stand over his lord so his lance was out of range of the troll.

Eldarion gulped. He wanted to turn and run but something held him immobile. Beside him Cirion drew his dagger.

"Cirion," Eldarion said unable to conceal the quiver of fear in his voice. "What do you hope to do?"

Cirion smiled wolfishly. "We are going to kill it!"

"I admire your ambition, boy," came Lord Ingold's gruff voice. "But how are we going to achieve that?"

"Like this!" Cirion said as he dashed forwards towards the troll.

"Cirion!" Eldarion screamed.

The troll roared at him and swung his massive arm to squash Cirion but as the boy got into range of the blow he used the troll's limited vision on its left side along with his own lack of size and his speed to side step silkily away to the left.

"Stab him!" Cirion screamed at the lance man.

The soldier needed no further instruction. He rammed his lance into the exposed area under the arm that the troll had revealed when he lunged at the boy and then ducked away.

The troll's roar changed pitch as the pain of the wound swept through him. The thrust had hurt and slowed it but it still had not finished the beast. Cirion circled again, licking his lips.

Eldarion was petrified. "Don't try that again, Ciri!" he shouted.

Cirion's eyes flashed manically. "Why? Do you want a turn?" he asked.

Eldarion heard Ingold chuckle at his side but the troll appeared to hear it too. He lunged toward where the incapacitated lord lay. Ingold drew in a frightened breath, waiting for the pain that must surely come to end his life. But before the troll could reach him, Cirion had rushed between them, placing his own small body into the danger and drawing the troll's attention. With a growl of frustration the troll tried to swot at the boy as if he were an irritating fly. Cirion was too quick once more. He even managed to use his knife to slash across the troll's bare thigh before he danced away. The soldier drove forward with his lance again. This time his thrust went deeper and he fell backwards leaving his weapon embedded in the monster's side.

"Quick!" ordered Ingold from his position on the ground. "We need more lances!"

Eldarion forced himself to look around at the debris on the ground, eyes searching. Between the mangled corpses he caught sight of a spear. Fighting his fear he reached down and picked up the weapon. It was heavy for him and its shaft was sticky, Eldarion dare not think with what. The soldier beside him had found another lance and he stood beside the frightened Prince side by side, spears ready. The troll was growling angrily now. His face contorted with pain as he pawed ineffectually at the lance in his side, his strength finally deserting him.

Cirion's smile was wide with confidence as he noted the weakness in his enemy. Eldarion stared at him grimly, not understanding what it was that drove the boy to dare what he did. Cirion rushed forward once more, two lances waiting to thrust at any vulnerable area that would be revealed.

Cirion moved in close on the left side again, the troll swatted at him, revealing an area into which the soldier drove his lance. Cirion turned to skip away once more but his foot caught up in the rubble on the ground, he lost his balance and fell forward. The troll summoned its remaining strength and grabbed at the boy, catching him roughly by the shoulder as he fell. Cirion let out a squeal of shock, his free arm reaching out desperately to the others, who could only stand and watch the awful scene play out before them.

"Cirion!" Eldarion screamed.

But it was too late, the troll lifted Cirion's light frame as if he were a twig borne on a summer breeze. With a growl he threw the boy as far as he could. Cirion's body flew through the air and landed on the hard, unforgiving ground with a horrific, bone-splintering crash. The second son of the Steward twitched once and was then frighteningly still.

The angry and pained troll then changed its strategy. It wanted to vacate the area as quickly as it could. In its frenzied state, whether through ill luck or judgement the route it chose was the one that took it through where the young Prince stood. Eldarion was still crying out his friend's name as the troll rushed towards him. He gulped when he saw the murderous intent in the troll's remaining good eye but he no longer wanted to turn and run. He was shattered by what had just happened to Cirion, his only true friend and the boy he had promised Lord Faramir, his own saviour from Saruman's tower, that he would protect. An emotion totally new to Eldarion rushed through his veins like fire bringing him courage he did not know he possessed. He wanted vengeance so badly he could taste it in his mouth. He would not run, not now. He would face his fear . . . for Cirion!

So, he planted both his feet as firmly as he could on the ground, braced the bottom of his spear against his back foot and held onto its shaft as tightly as he could. Unable to watch what was about to happen he closed his eyes tightly and waited, heart hammering crazily in his chest.

The near-blinded and dying troll ran straight onto the point of the young Prince's spear. The ferocity of the impact nearly ripped Eldarion's arms from their sockets and caused him to cry out but his own feeble voice was lost as the troll screeched out its death bellow. Eldarion, keeping his eyes tightly closed, thrust his spear again and again.

The troll went down to its knees, its bellow losing strength and turning into a weakening groan. Still Eldarion would not stop stabbing at it; he was taken by battle frenzy and he had lost all rational thought. He continued thrusting his lance as his tears ran down his face. Suddenly he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You can stop now, son," said Ingold's voice, no longer gruff or fearful but strangely sympathetic. "The beast is dead."

Eldarion gulped and opened his eyes. In front of him the troll was slumped on its knees, head to the floor, his own spear embedded deep into its belly. Eldarion let go of the shaft as if it burnt his hands. He began to shake uncontrollably as he tried to sniff back his tears. Standing in front of the beast he had just helped to kill, in the chaos of the battlefield, he suddenly felt utterly alone.

"That was bravely done, Prince Eldarion," Ingold comforted him. He had dragged himself to the boy's side. "Long will they sing songs of your bravery in the taverns of Minas Tirith."

Eldarion drew in a long ragged breath. He could find no words to speak and he knew his strength was leaving him. He let out a wail of despair and threw himself into the older man's arms; the tears running anew down his cheeks.

Ingold held him close into his chest, his arms protectively around the boy's head and shoulders as loud sobs shook them violently. He patted the boy's back, remembering previous battles when he had held his own sons in such an intimate way. "Let it out, my Prince," he soothed. "You deserve it, for none shall be braver than you this day."