Notes: Thanks to my reviewer, sarahbarr17. This update is for you, cause you bothered to answer! To anyone else who is reading, please review or something so I know to continue this. Thanks!
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16 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith
I have been pacing at the border between life and death these past few days, and it was my king who called me back yesterday. They have not told me much just yet, as they say I am not yet healed enough to be exposed to such trauma to hear the tales of the battle. I can only say that I look back on my suicide mission and feel heavy guilt that those who went with me perished to accomplish my father's will, and yet I lived. Some of the soldiers have come to see me, and I have voiced these thoughts. The men say that none of them would ever blame me for that, and that they would not have chosen to become soldiers had they any fear of death.
I suppose I should record what had happened after I left Minas Tirith for Osgiliath. The ride to Osgiliath seemed to fly by, and we were all silent during it. The battle needs little mention, save that my meager forces were decimated by the Sauron's forces. And so, after much courageous struggle on the part of my men, our numbers dwindled until there were too few for us to do anything more. I was stuck between two unpleasant alternatives. Sound the retreat, hoping that the few of us might get out but going against my orders, or continue fighting until we all died. I sounded the retreat. The few who were left began backing out of Osgiliath, and I shouted to them to go while I covered them. But when they heard that, they disobeyed orders and returned. I am not sure how it happened, but after I blacked out, my horse ended up dragging me back to the gates of Minas Tirith with my foot stuck in the stirrup. This was not long before the battle of the Pelennor Fields began. After that, I suppose I lay in the Houses of Healing until the king called me back from my dark dreams.
The captains are debating below the city. The people who walk past my chamber whisper of an attack on the Black Gate. I should be down there with them. I too should be fighting for my world. But each time I ask, I am told I am too weak to be fighting anymore, and I can only accept my fate. I hear them speak of so many forces from all over Gondor mustering together for the battle, and in the end, Rohan came to our aid, and then the rightful king brought ghost-soldiers from the Paths of the Dead. The ghosts have been released, but the other soldiers are now preparing to leave yet again.
The healers say I am only well enough to walk about slightly, or write in this journal, or eat. And so, that is what I have been doing all day. I know there is something they are keeping from me, as many of the healers and soldiers seem nervous around me. But no matter how I ask, I do not receive an answer. I suppose I will find out when the moment is right, so I have naught to do but wait.
And perhaps the time may not come before the world is covered by darkness, if Sauron should prevail. I try to hope, but the days grow darker, and by merely counting odds, it is much more likely that we shall not be able to stand victorious at the end.