I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I only created Mÿne.
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Trebuchets had been splintered, soldiers killed, more and more debris was scattering across Minas Tirith. Screams from the lower level thundered in her ears as the orcs tried to secure the area around the Main Gate. She could not stand here wasting her time, she had to do something.
The first level was a true chaos. Buildings were on fire, the streets littered with bodies: both orc and Men. The foul stench of Death was all around her, and it made her feel sick. So many deaths, and they had just started the night… How long would they last?
Mÿne and Gandalf tried to hold the first level with a handful of soldiers, though with the Main Gate breached, there was no end to the orcs breaking through it, like water crashing on rocks. It would only be matter of time before they would truly be overrun.
"Watch out!" one of the soldiers cried as wooden beams fell from the sky from yet another destroyed trebuchet.
The wood clattered on the stone ground, squashed two orc heads before it remained there, slightly smoldering from the fires around them.
Mÿne clashed swords with an orc, the sound of metal on metal ringing her ears, before she ducked away from another sword, by a second orc. Gandalf quickly interfered, sticking Glamdring in one orc and slamming his staff in the other's face.
"Thanks..." Mÿne breathed as she twirled her sword in her hand and jumped at the next target she could find.
Slowly the handful of soldiers became less and less. They were brave fighters but they were simply with too few. Mÿne grabbed the collar of a soldier next to her and yanked him to the side, just before the spiked club of a troll came down on the ground, growling.
"Archers!" she called as she pushed herself and the soldier backwards, trying to avoid getting hit by the club.
As soon as she had called, three archers emerged from the roofs they had been on, laying their attack on the troll, trying to skewer him with arrows between the plates of armor he wore. With the troll now distracted, Mÿne rushed forward, let herself fall on her back and slid across the stone floor, stabbing the troll's foot with her blade as she rushed past him. The troll bellowed and showed his neck as he did so, making a perfect target for the archers. He soon went down, shaking the grounds.
More orcs came, growling, howling and making all kinds of beastly noises. They hurled their blades at them, tried to jump on them, Mÿne had even saw an orc who'd preferred to use his teeth to rip apart his enemies, sending blood everywhere. It had been a truly horrifying sight to behold.
She slashed her blade across a nearing orc's chest before she kicked him to the ground and finished him. For a moment, she gazed around her, trying to assess their situation, but all she could see was a moving mass made out of Mordor armor.
"Gandalf, we cannot hope to keep this level. We will be overrun before the night is over. We need to retreat to the next level, muster our strengths!" she called as she neared the White Wizard.
He mumbled something indistinct as he knocked three orcs down by himself, using both staff and sword, before he turned to look at her. Pain was in his eyes, she could tell he was just as tired as she was.
"If we give away the level now-" he started, in a gruff voice.
"There will not be any soldiers left if we keep fighting here!" Mÿne yelled as she turned around and stuck her sword into an enemy.
"We need to retreat, Gandalf!"
Gandalf looked from her at the nearing orc mass, beyond the gates, to the remaining fighting soldiers of Gonder. Quickly he gave a nod.
"So be it. Start making way, I'll send word throughout the first level, gather every soldier we still have." he told her as he whistled sharply and retreated from the battlefield.
"Fall back!" she called as she swung her sword against an orc, helping out a slightly wounded soldier.
"Retreat! We make for the second level! Go!"
Slowly she backed away, after she gave her eyes a good look over the display before her. Even through the dark of the night she could see that the assault of the orcs had only just begun. They had so much forces left, waiting eagerly behind Grond and beyond, it was almost an impossible task.
"Retreat!" she called to two archers on the roof of the stables, before they fell prey to Mordor swords.
Her steps became faster as she made her way up the streets, back to the second level. It was not easy. From the sides she and remaining soldiers kept being assaulted by orcs who had spread their way faster throughout the city than she imagined. She jumped out of the way as an orc jumped from the roof, its target obviously her. A solider behind her quickly killed him with a couple of slashes from his sword.
Behind them she could hear the sounds of more orcs. They were not only on the roofs besides them, but also behind them, and catching up fast with the wounded. They would not even make it to the second level this way. The orcs would catch up to them, or ambush them, long before they would reach the gates. Something had to be done…
"Take out the ones on the roof!" she called as she grabbed a nearby archer and pointed him to the crawling filth above them.
From the side, she grabbed a barrel that laid on its side, as the archers next to her started to fire their arrows at the orcs above. The sound of their bows buzzed in her ears, before she snatched an unlit torch from one of the walls next to her and lit it on fire with one of the blazing Mordor rocks, that still burnt miraculously.
With a slight grin, she set the barrel in front of her aflame, and pushed it down the street, before she grabbed the next one. Crates, wooden carts, anything that burned went down the street ablaze. The orcs were surprised by it, the flaming objects divided their group and managed to set an orc or two aflame. It slowed them down.
"Go!" Mÿne yelled as she turned and pushed some of the soldiers forward, to the second level, "We need to make haste now! The flames will not stall them for long! Hurry!"
The guards and soldiers ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Mÿne's heart pounded in her throat as she heard the pursuit by the orcs being continued.
Guards hauled them in, waiting at the gates, though eager to shut them. Gandalf was already waiting inside with a lot of soldiers, Shadowfax underneath his legs. It was a wonder where that horse had shown up from inside all this madness. She could see concern flash across Gandalf's face but it made room for relieve as soon as they made eye contact.
The soldiers seemed to run harder as they saw the gate coming into view, suddenly found their energy again. They stormed through the gate and the guards shut it behind them. It seemed that they were just in time, since Mÿne could make out the sounds of multiple trolls behind the steel doors.
She bend her back slightly and took a moment to catch her breath, spitting to the side as she straightened back up. Silently she counted the soldiers that had managed to come with her. Thirty at best, but most were injured already.
A sudden bang was on the gate. She supposed it was a troll with either a club or a hammer, trying to break down this gate as well, paving the way for Mordor forces to take over the city.
"Kill that troll!" Gandalf said as navigated Shadowfax back and forth between the men, "We cannot let it breach this gate!"
"Mithrandir, we cannot hit him from here. The towers are infested with orcs and the men have no arrows left." a soldier said as he approached him.
Mÿne knitted her brows together in a frown as she turned to the parapets. From there she had a fearsome view of the army that was still waiting upon entering the city, even though they had already taken control of the first level. The size of it was breathtaking.
"The sun will soon rise..." she muttered as she looked at the horizon, indeed, the skies were fading to a lighter grey. Soon, she supposed a watery sun would emerge… if it would emerge at all.
"Legolas told me that a red sun rises, when blood has been spilled…" she said with a sad smile, as she thought about the blonde elf. Oh, how she wished she would've stayed with him at Edoras. To have a little bit more time to roam the earth, discover its wonders and beauty. She had so many regrets now that the end drew near.
"Elven nonsense." Gandalf grumbled next to her, shaking his head, "You think the sun cares about the past day? Every time it rises, it would be for a new one." he said to her before he instructed some men to barricade the gate.
"Gandalf!" someone suddenly called, obviously in panic.
It was Pippin, and he came running straight at them, as fast as his little feet could carry him. He pushed his way through the men, out of breath, but his eyes huge. Something was wrong, Mÿne could tell by just looking at him.
"Peregrin Took! I told you to remain at the Citadel, this place is most unsafe now, young hobbit-" Gandalf bellowed.
"Gandalf! Denethor has lost his mind! He's burning Faramir alive!" Pippin continued, not caring for whatever Gandalf had to say.
It seemed Gandalf did not either anymore. He hoisted Pippin up on Shadowfax and took off, Mÿne running after hem, a bit distraught and lost.
They did not even get halfway through the second level when she heard the rushing of wings. It was sound that had become known to her in this time of battle, however, this was particularly close and as soon as she rounded the corner, a Fell Beast landed on the white stone in front of them. On its ugly back a Ringwraith, and not just any. He wore a terrifying looking helmet, menacing looking spikes decorating it and leaving space open enough for a face that would not show itself. It was a mass of nothingness, as fearsome as the Lord of the Nazgûl always had been.
Her feet stopped moving as she gazed at this fearsome creature in front of them. This flesh-made Evil, this Witch-King of Angmar, in all his might. Even the golden light of the sun, that had crept over the walls of Minas Tirith, would not chase it away. It was too weak in power and had no effect on the Ringwraith. Just by gazing at him gave Mÿne a dreadful feeling. Like someone had stopped her heart, ripped it out and thrown it off the parapets. Her breath stopped in the back of her throat and when it spoke, she felt the stone ground tremble against her feet.
"Do you not know Death, when you see it, Old Man? This is my hour!" the Witch-King cried as he raised his sword.
Mÿne felt like someone had grabbed a hold of her throat and was squeezing it tightly. Her head was painful, the voice of the Witch-King rang loudly inside it, repeating himself over and over. It was a maddening pain. She pushed herself against the sunlit wall next to her and slowly sank to her knees as her eyes could see nothing but darkness and hear nothing else but his voice. This rasping voice of Evil, that spread fear throughout her limbs and made her unable to move. It took her by surprise, since she had seen Nazgûl before, even fought them at Weathertop. She hadn't been paralyzed by them at that moment… but this was the Witch-King, at full force.
The paralyzing feeling of fear, dread and pain took master of her. Her sword fell from her grasp, onto the ground and its metallic noise was soon taken over by something else. The sword of the Witch-King shortly glowed, before it burst out into flames. Suddenly Gandalf's staff broke into a million pieces and Mÿne's feet were littered with the small pieces of that bright white wood. Gandalf had been thrown from his horse, as had Pippin, who'd bravely found the courage to pick up his sword...to let it fall in the next moment when the Fell Beast growled at him loudly.
Mÿne was stuck. She didn't have the courage. It was like every limb of her had frozen and she had become part of the wall she sat against. Her throat was dry and her heartbeat faded. This was truly her end. The Witch-King would first slay Gandalf, then her, and take Pippin to Mordor, thinking he was the Ring-Bearer… She could only imagine what cruel fate would await her friend there.
"You have failed… The World of Men will fall..." the Witch-King announced as he lifted his blade.
She waited for the strike to come, but it never did. The Witch-King froze in his seat as another sound bellowed through the dawn. Horns, and not just any.
"Rohan." Mÿne gasped as she watched the Witch-King back away and fly off into the sky, a new scenario taken his interest.
As soon as the Witch-King had removed himself from their surroundings, Mÿne felt better. It was his sheer presence that had caused this pain and paralysis. She jumped up, grabbed her sword and ran to the parapets.
Over the horizon, far enough for her to see, yet not close enough to see in detail, were horses lined up. Horns of Rohan blared over the Fields of Pelennor. A welcoming sound.
"They came. King Théoden answered the call! Gandalf-" she said as she turned, but Gandalf, Shadowfax and Pippin had vanished. Only small pieces of wood, remainders of Gandalf's staff, laid on the floor as a reminder what had happened.
Her hopeful smile had faltered a little as she was left in the square made of white stone. Doubt weighed her mind. Was she supposed to go after them? She would never make it to the upper level in time to be useful, Gandalf rode Shadowfax, they would be so much faster.
Her eyes set them on the line of horses on the horizon. Rohan had come! They would save them from the forces of Mordor and clear the city! She wondered if she could see Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas from her position, but it was all a bit unclear. She could not make out defining forms from this distance.
Mÿne wondered if the army of Rohan would ever reach the Gate. There were a lot of enemies between them, all too eager to have a swing at Men. She fingered the necklace Galadriël had gifted her with, hidden underneath the collar of her armor. Now that Gandalf was absent from the battlefield to save Faramir, there was no one to lead them. The soldiers were in panic and they too realized that they could not hold this city for long. The arrows were gone, the men spend.
Her hands gripped themselves tightly around the hilt of her sword as she turned on her heel and ran her way back to the second gate. Horses would prove to be difficult to ride in this city, let alone in battle against so many enemies: orcs and trolls. No, if they were to meet Rohan's army halfway, they had to clear the way.
Thunderous sounds came from the gate of the second level. Even though the men had reinforced it with whatever sturdy they could find, the hammer of the troll still banged against it, unstoppable. The doors of the gates nearly gave way as Mÿne rounded the corner. Soldiers were anxious, holding up their spears, trembling from their heads to their feet. Archers without arrows looked lost and the injured were sitting against the stone walls of the city. All in all, it was like they had already given up.
"Have you not heard the horns of Rohan? Our friends are near!" Mÿne said as she gestured to the Fields of Pelennor, where the horns still echoed.
The soldiers looked at her, but all sparks of hope seemed to have been put out all the same.
"It will be too late for us. It will be in mere moments that this gate will break down. It is over." one soldier answered.
Mÿne looked at him, at all of them. Yes, their times were dire, there was no denying that. As the tips of her fingers touched her necklace, she looked out on the Fields of Pelennor, Rohan horses forcing their way into the army of Mordor. Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli. She longed to be on the battlefield with them. To emerge from the city victorious and make Aragorn proud.
"Yes, our times are dire." she spoke as she tore her gaze away from the sunlit fields and to the shadowy stones in front, with the doors of the gates nearly bend under the weight of the troll's hammer.
"But will we give this city to the enemy freely? Will we be looked upon by our friends as cowards? Hiding beneath the walls and trembling in fear?!"
Mÿne walked forward as she yanked the pouch with her last arrows from her shoulder. She pushed it into the arms of an archer, who looked at her in wonder.
"No, they will not! This is Minas Tirith, the city of Boromir! And Faramir! Our friends will see the brave soldiers of Gondor, making their stand! No orc will pass through that gate, every troll will be killed, until the last man falls!" she shouted as she helped up the soldiers who had lost their courage.
"This is the hour when we will strike at our enemy! We will show them the fearlessness of Men! We will drive them from this city! I will tell you this: the tree of the King is in bloom! A true King is coming to claim the throne, but it will not be Sauron!" she shouted as she stood at the thundering gate, eyeing it like it had been the most disgusting thing she'd ever seen.
"We will protect this city, even if we were the last ones to do so! We will make our stand! We will fight!" she shouted as she lifted her sword, her brows knitted together in a sharp frown, yet a mysterious grin on her lips.
Swords were lifted in the air with a roar and some of the soldiers seemed to get up and make themselves ready. There seemed to be a change in energy.
"For Gondor!"
"FOR GONDOR!" the soldiers repeated loudly.
Something had awoken in her. Something she knew had been deep down under the folds of her cowardice, her fears and her wicked dreams. She did not know if, what she was about to do, was complete stupidity or a rush of bravery and boldness, but she felt like she had no other choice. They had to buy the soldiers at the levels above them, Gandalf and Pippin, more time and they had to clear the way for King Théoden and his army.
"You there. Get up on this roof, aim for the troll. The orcs have not festered here yet. Go! And don't miss!" she told the archer she'd given her last arrows to.
He nodded bravely and disappeared into a small alley that lead to a stairwell, disappearing from her sight. Next, she grabbed a soldier near her by his shoulder.
"Go to the third level. Tell them to close the gate and barricade it with everything they have. We will keep the orcs busy until they've mustered strength and Gandalf has returned. He can lead you further."
"But, milady, that will lock you in… " the soldier said as he gazed at her, in wonder and confusion.
"Yes it will, but it will give you time. You'll be the next stand if we come to fail. Now, go! Make haste!" she said as she gave him a little push.
Mÿne turned her sword in her hands as she looked back at the gate. This was incredibly folly, but she could not turn away now anymore. Things had been set in motion, their objective clear.
The thunderous hammering of the troll suddenly stopped and not too long after a dull sound was heard as the ground trembled under Mÿne's feet, signaling the troll was dead. The archer had listened to her and not missed. Not soon after though, arrows were released in the air, into the general direction Mÿne had supposed her archer had went. It stayed eerily quiet after that.
Her eyes turned at the nervous guards that stood on both sides of the gate, waiting and watching her. She signaled for the soldiers to take up position on the side, behind the barrels before she ordered the gate to be opened.
Nervous hands removed the wooden beams that held the steel doors in its place, with a yank they were pulled open and Mÿne stared in the face of dozens of orcs before they charged. The moment they stepped through the gate, the Gondorian soldiers emerged from behind the barrels and started to attack. Mÿne pushed through the fighting crowd, swinging her sword, punching and kicking.
Using a set of stairs as leverage, Mÿne jumped up and landed on three orcs, punching one in the face with her armored fist, as she kicked the second and stabbed the third. Soldiers marched up the stairs and worked their way up to the towers that had previously been taken by the orcs, freeing it.
"Milady! We've found arrows!" one of the guards said triumphantly.
"Good! I want archers on the roof! Kill as many as you can!" she shouted before she continued her way down the streets.
As she rounded an upcoming corner, she nearly slipped in a puddle of blood. Her feet slid against the stone and she swung the hilt of her sword against her enemy that ran towards her. He went down with a small orcish groan.
A loud roar rung in her ears and she whirled around, scared what that sound meant. A troll, armed to its teeth stomped its way towards her through the narrow street, lifting its huge sword. His tiny eyes narrowed themselves as he let out another roar. Mÿne backed away quickly, her feet tripping over a corpse and she went down to the ground, the stone knocking the air from her lungs.
"FIRE!"
The troll was filled with arrows, coming from both sides of the alley. Gondorian soldiers watched as it went down before they continued their way down the street to the market square.
"Well met." Mÿne sighed relieved as the captain of the archers extended his hand and helped her up.
"We managed to hide out in this level for as long as we could." he told her as he hoisted his pouch with arrows back on his shoulder and gave her a little nod, "For a moment I feared we were going to die…"
He left a meaningful silence.
"Let's drive these monsters back into the abyss they belong to!" Mÿne said, encouraged by this unexpected back up, before she turned on her heel and made her way down the street.
The market was even more a mess. Gondorian archers were fighting Mordor arches on either side of the square, three trolls were on the loose and the Main Gate was still open for more Mordor forces. Though… Mÿne had to admit that, as it looked now, they seemed less than in the dark. In the far distance she could hear the neighing of horses and sounds of fighting on the Fields of Pelennor.
"Hurry along soldier! Take position! Clear the market!"
She heard all kinds of commands, all being bellowed through each other. Soldiers marched through the streets, archers retaking their positions on the parapets, now that Mordor had to divide its attention to two sides.
Mÿne ran up the stairs that lead to the parapets above the Main Gate, the sun blocked by Grond's enormous statue. She put her sword at the front as she ran, one by one clearing the way on the parapets. Her fist collided painfully hard with an orc face and she delivered another blow with the hilt of her sword, making him go down. She cut the next across his chest, kicking him down and grabbing the next by his shoulder, ramming him into the white walls of the parapets, smearing them with black liquid.
From the other side, she could see more and more Gondorian soldiers making their way to the parapets, carefully as to not become prey to the menacing trolls, who were being shot by archers.
Mÿne grabbed three arrows from the pouch of a dead Gondorian and took up position as the soldiers of Minas Tirith cleared the area. Her first arrow hit one of the trolls square in the throat and with a painful moan, he fell down on the ground. Her second arrow missed target, since the troll decided it would rather chew on a soldier in reach and her third arrow bounced off from the troll's armor.
Biting her bottom lip, Mÿne ran down the steps to the ground again, ducking just in time to avoid the spiked club that soared over her head. The troll sniffed, almost irritably before he tried to grab her with his big hand. She jumped over a couple of barrels and rolled before she threw her sword at his head. With satisfaction she watched as it hit him right in his head and the troll fell forward, dead.
The last troll went down with some effort of the archers combined. It fell down with a great sound and in wonder Mÿne looked around her.
"We may yet survive this." she breathed, though with a small smile again before she ran up the steps to the parapets again.
She gazed at the Fields of Pelennor, now shrouded by clouds of dust, before creatures emerged from that dust, closer than she had expected. One came dangerously close to the wall of Minas Tirith and it was at that distance that she could see how truly dangerous they were. Above them, in war towers, were Men dressed in colorful cloths, their faces hidden behind dark scarves. They threw spears at the soldiers and Mÿne had to run for a moment, to avoid being skewered herself. They were enormous beasts, with dangerous long tusks that had been decorated with spikes and lines laces with thorns.
"Mûmakil!" soldiers shouted as they grabbed their bows.
Mÿne let the soldiers deal with this so-called Mûmakil as she ran down the steps again, encountered an orc and pushed him backwards over a couple of barrels and crates. He fell backwards and Mÿne let her sword sink into him.
The Mûmakil that had ventured close to the wall of Minas Tirith was brought down, and with a terrible sad sound, the beast blared one last call.
"Secure the gate! Follow me, soldier, move it!" she heard around her as more and more soldiers showed up.
"The third gate has been opened! Mithrandir is coming!" another one yelled from the rooftops.
Mÿne whirled around in her place as she heard the sounds of hooves. Indeed, he was. Gandalf appeared at the end of the street, against the sun and he smiled. He rode forward, a new group of soldiers and archers behind him.
"Secure the gate! Kill the orcs!" he bellowed as the soldiers stormed out of the gate, their fire and courage renewed.
"Gandalf. I though I had told the men to-"
"Yes, to lock the gate. I opened it." Gandalf said with a smile, Mÿne had almost deemed as proud.
"The men simply could not stay behind while you and yours did all the work. They did not want your sacrifice to be in vain..."
Suddenly a green cloud burst through the gates, and although vague, Mÿne could make out the shapes of men. Dead men. They carried green axes, spears and swords, all covered in dust and cobwebs.
"What is this new devilry?!" Mÿne asked as she grabbed a hold of her sword, while Gandalf reassuringly put his hand on her shoulder.
"The army of the Dead..." he muttered, "Aragorn."
"What?!" Mÿne asked as she quickly looked at Gandalf before she readied her sword for the green dead men.
"Only the heir of Isildur can summon the Dead Men of Dunharrow." Gandalf continued before he gave her another reassuring smile.
The green men did not find them interesting at all. They continued their spooky way as they did, hacking and slashing at every orc, troll or beast they encountered, but they left the race of Men alone. Like they did not even exist.
"Come, my dear." Gandalf said, as he dismounted and gestured to the gate.
"It is time to greet our friends."
Mÿne followed him as he made his way to the gate and beyond. She had to walk around the war machine that had been Grond, now still and forgotten, its flames dowsed. Now that she walked beneath it, she could truly see how enormous it had been. She was certain it was the only thing that could have broken down the Main Gate. Without it, the battle would have gone quite differently. They may even have held the advantage for some time longer.
The Fields of Pelennor were littered with bodies: Men, Orc, Evil Men and horses. Blood was sprayed like a garden hose over the grassy fields, giving it a red touch. The battle was almost over now, some left over orcs being hunted by Rohan riders, or green wisps of Death.
Her eyes were all over the place as she took in the horrors that had taken place here. She might've thought she was dying inside the city, but outside seemed even worse, if that was possible. So many died… and a midst the bodies, stood the figures of the three people she was searching for.
"Mÿne..." the voice of Aragorn said, surprised as she neared them. His eyes were big, as if he could not believe it.
But Mÿne had eyes for one person only. His blonde hair swayed in the slight breeze across the battlefield, his blue eyes looked up at her in surprise and worry, though yet oddly calm. Her feet stepped faster as she neared him and when she was close enough, she flung her arms around Legolas' shoulders and cupped his face. Her green eyes looked at his blue ones for a moment before her lips captured his.
All the excitement, worry and despair from the battle coursed through her veins. She'd been despairing so much throughout the battle. Many a times had she thought her end was near, and she had so many regrets. Now that they were both still alive, she did not want anything else but to kiss him, now that the battle was over.
"Forgive me, I have been an utter fool. Never again will I be parted from your side." she told him as he smiled softly at her.
"I feared for you, but you look well." he said as he moved a loose curly strand of hair from her face, gently, "Pale, but well…"
Mÿne was relieved beyond all imagination. She had lived, they all had lived. It was truly a miracle! Her face must've shown it, since Legolas moved his arm around her shoulders, in an attempt to comfort her. Her head leaned against his embrace and for a split second she wished she could remain in that position forever, his strong arm reassuring her as she could take in the smell of his Elvishness, subtle yet refreshing against the background of death and blood.
