A hidden path

12 March, year 3019 of the Third Age:

The second day of the darkness had come a few hours ago. Thankfully for those who was in Minas Tirith, a small glimmer of hope in the middle of this dark day arrived when a cry was heard:

"Lord Boromir! It is Lord Boromir!"

"Tell Lord Faramir that his brother is home!"

Indeed, it was the current Steward and his escort who finally arrived back to his birth city, and most likely in the nick of time before the armies of Mordor had found him.

"Brother!"

The two sons of Denethor hugged each other as soon as Boromir dismounted, allowing themselves a quiet moment of joy over being reunited. But only for so long, they knew that the situation was dire.

"How is everything going with getting ready for battle, little brother?"

"The civilians of Minas Tirith have been evacuated, and we have tried to gather food in case of a siege of Minas Tirith from the armies of Mordor while they attack. Not much that we could collect, but it is right now in the middle of winter and spring, the time just before spring begins in earnest and the fields can be sown. If it had been autumn, after the harvest…"

Nodding, Boromir patted the shoulder of his brother to show that he did agree with what Faramir had done so far while ruling Gondor in his stead, especially given how sudden the death of their father had been, less than a month ago. This was a very good example of why they had gotten the same education, in order to be able to help each other in a crisis despite their different personalities.

"You have done well, little brother, and I am very, very grateful for you defending Gondor and its people for me until my return. Because I know that you would never abandon those who need us in those difficult times."

Letting their foreheads touch, this was how Boromir thanked his brother without more words to say.

"Come, my escort and I need to rest after escaping the armies of Mordor, but we also need to make everyone ready for battle."

Gandalf and Pippin met the brothers in the Tower Hall, where Boromir smiled in amusement at seeing the Hobbit dressed as a member of the city guards.

"Boromir. It is good to see you returned and in good health."

"At your service, Steward Boromir…ow!"

Of course, Pippin still proved himself by trying to make a proper greeting and learned the hard way from his slammed-together heels that there was a reason why the Mannish soldiers wore boots.

"What a tale all this about the Fellowship is going to spread over time, if we win the war. A hobbit as a member of the guards of Minas Tirith, never happening before!" Boromir said to not let Pippin think that he had messed up. Then, at seeing their maternal uncle Imadril coming to meet them as well, Boromir knew that the Prince of Dol Amroth needed a inspiration that was bound to light up his spirit:

"Great news for you and aunt Sita in the middle of everything, uncle; Lothíriel gave birth to a daughter, Elfhilda, around dawn on March 3th. Right as the battle of Helm's Deep ended in victory for the Rohirrim."

"A granddaughter?! My dear little swan princess, a mother!" Imadril repeated in shock over those news, then demanded any more details of what Boromir knew of the newest family member.

After a much-welcomed simple meal and a few hours of resting, Boromir ordered the soldiers in charge of the catapults to see how far their throw would reach.

"Alright, Arash, let us see where to put that massive hedge of thorns that you talked about earlier."

When they found the test-stone that had fallen at the longest distance from Minas Tirith, Arash formed a circle with the city in the center. Since the armies of Mordor were likely intending to put Minas Tirith under siege, stopping their siege machines from coming too close to do serious damage was important.

"Boromir….the plains and farms outside Minas Tirith, they risk being set on fire by the enemy as a way to lower our morale," Faramir pointed out.

The Steward nodded, trying to think of a solution.

"The problem is that with this darkness, we all know that it is not rain clouds around…."

Lucky, Arash recalled something that Dorne had great use of in the past.

"I can try to contact my sisters in the Dornish fleet through a water mirror and ask if they can send over a pourdown to wet the ground across the plains and the houses on the farms. It would be less exhausting with the distance they still have until they get here, and even if the farms would be set on fire, the orcs will have a lot less fun if it is all smoke that they get."

That was the best idea they had for now, and after planting the seeds of the rose, holly, blackberry and hawthorn bushes that would form the foundation of the hedge, Arash also crafted two moats, one on each side of the growing hedge and quickly filled with water from Anduin, to further making the attack on Minas Tirith more difficult for the armies of Mordor.

"A single, very narrow opening in the hedge which is higher than the City Wall, two moats that stop the siege machines that they will bring. If this can delay their attacks enough for the united Rohirrim and Dornish army to arrive as well as the fleets led by Sultan Suleiman and my sisters, I think we can avoid too much damage to Minas Tirith and the loss of many soldiers."

That was all Arash could do for now, and he needed to preserve his use of earth magic until the battle started, unless he would not be able to help out, but Boromir knew that this new, added defense would make a major difference.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In Meduseld, Rhaenys was trying to keep herself busy with painting, just to keep her thoughts away from the war. Yet, she could not really keep her focus, as proved by several half-finished drawings around her.

"Ealderfeder…everyone…"

Right now she was painting a drawing of Théoden, so that his face would not be forgotten by his grandchildren as they grew older, but her hands were trembling slightly as a sign of her inner chaos.

"Curse you, Sauron…curse you, for hearing about the magical power of the Farao of Kemet and desiring to have that as part of your reign of terror and darkness!"

Of course words about Khamûl's magical control over sand would be spread across the borders, to realms and rulers far away. With Kemet as one of the most powerful empires of the East during that era thanks to his own father and grandfather rebuilding Kemet by being powerful rulers once taking the throne and skilled war-generals themselves, it would have been impossible to prevent whispers of awe and fear about his powers. Their dynasty was a far cry from the previous one, where the tradition of family inbreeding and sibling marriages like the Targaryens had weakened the last rulers to the point of leaving two, both physically and mentally handicapped children as its last Farao and Queen consort, leaving a opening for a possible civil war that would have harmed Kemet itself if the grandfather of Khamûl had not been acting so quickly.

"Father…I know that redeeming yourself after all those years and horrible deeds as a Ringwraith is impossible…but what if I just want you to finally stop being a wraith and entering the afterlife?"

Just him being a wraith like this, felt like a mockery of how belief in the afterlife had been back in Kemet. Like Sauron openly showed how the Ringwraiths were little more than puppets controlled by long strings from his hands, not caring about how they once had been mortal Men with their own personalities, cultural beliefs and differences.

"Damn it!"

Feeling her tears build up like burning water as she tried to not cry, Rhaenys hated this feeling of powerlessness. Of how she needed to defend her current family and homeland against the very man who they could track their origins to, through Morgan and her previous self as Mara.

"Ugh…"

But then, something around her could be sensed. A faint trace of magic. An echo of a song that was forgotten in the East sans a single Temple. A song which would only be sung in order to infect everlasting harm and torture on a enemy, to drag them back from the afterlife and denying them the chance to escape the mortal world. And the name which had been connected to the soul in life this one…

Rhaenys opened her eyes wide in shock when hearing it:

"Rhaegar Targaryen?!"

Who knew the name of her birth father here in Middle-earth outside Rohan? Who? Who? Who? AND WHY?!

For a moment, Rhaenys lost control due to her own resentment of Rhaegar, whose name she so desired to forget and never be mentioned again around her for as long as she lived. Because whatever it was deliberately or not, his actions did remind a lot about Tar-Minyatur and how his very existence had brought ruin to Kemet, all because he was a royal, self-centered, mentally stunted brat who wanted the world to be in awe of himself, despite being below mediocre by royal standards. In appearance they would be quite different, but in character, they were very alike.

"Do not remind me of each other…both of you! Stop haunting me and my family like unwanted ghosts of the past!"

With narrowly keeping her magical outburst under control, Rhaenys slashed the illustrations of Rhaegar and Tar-Minyatur into tiny pieces. She did not need any reminder of those two men right now, not with everything on stake.

In the Temple of Shadows, Visenya had also sensed the presence of Rhaenys for a moment, yet she was not so surprised over how her elder half-sister had reacted to the mention of Rhaegar Targaryen in the song she had just sung.

"You carry a heavy burden on your shoulders though my Master and what danger he means to you and everyone else in House Martell, sister, and you have every right to hate the man who sired us on different mothers in this life. But do not think too much of him, I am dealing with him for you, Aegon and lady Elia."

Restarting her song, Visenya focused once more on torturing the soul of Rhaegar Targaryen that had been wandering aimlessly around like a ghost in the East since his death and which she had caught just yesterday. It was quite enjoyable for Visenya to think of how it must feel for the few remains of his ruined mind to see how his torturer was no one else than the second daughter he had desired, born from Lyanna Stark as a not so well-chosen royal mistress as he had believed poor Elia to be barren after the difficult birth of Aegon, when Elia in reality had just needed to avoid a third pregnancy with the same time gap of six months between the birth of Rhaenys and the begetting of Aegon.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Around afternoon of March 13, the soldiers in Minas Tirith could spot torches and other blazes in the darkness behind the massive hedge Arash had created the previous day.

"So it begins," Boromir muttered before ordering everyone to be ready for defending the White City, for while the cousin of Elia had tried his best to not have the hedge be easily destroyed by being set on fire, the soldiers of Gondor still needed to fight.

"Be mindful of anything thrown from the catapults that they may try to get over the hedge! They can still get a lucky stray hit or two even with the hedge adding a wider distance to the City Wall!"

Preparing their own catapults for defense and the archers ensuring that they had their quivers filled to the rim with arrows where they was standing on the City Wall to defend the Great Gate of Minas Tirith, Faramir as their leader due to him having lead the Rangers of Ithilien and thus was familiar with this long-distance weapon himself, they could see how the orcs and trolls had quite difficult with the hedge.

"Nice and thick hedge of thorns you got there, Master Arash, not one that is easily climbed over or cut apart!"

Thanks to the massive thorns, a lot of orcs found themselves impaled despite their armor, as Arash swept his hand so the roots twisted themselves around like a natural spear wall.

"Climbing on the impaled bodies will not work either, and it is time to remove those!"

The long, thorny vines slapping away any torches that were thrown at the hedge, instead setting a couple of the siege towers pushed forwards by trolls on fire, forcing the orcs to waste even more time on putting those out.

"The hedge will not keep them away forever, be ready!"

True, some of the trolls were now pushing the siege towers towards the single, narrow opening in the hedge, and while it was a trap itself, the men were ready.

"You are soldiers of Gondor," Boromir told the men who were nearby, "Whatever that happens now in this battle, you have sworn to give your lives to defend the White City and your homeland from its enemies. Now prove that oath of service true!"

And they sent off a massive stone in one catapult, its landing partly ruining the first siege tower which was being pushed through the narrow opening in the hegde with great difficulty.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Very early pre-dawn of March 14, a different part of Gondor:

Even with the portals to save time while traveling the long way to Gondor and to spare the horses so they would not be worn out at the time of battle, there was still the danger of orc scouts spotting the massive army.

In one part of the temporary camp, a tall figure loomed up and stumbled over Merry where he had tried in vain to take a nap, cursing the tree-roots. He recognized the voice of the Marshal, Elfhelm.

"I am not a tree-root, Sir," he said and rolled himself out from below his cloak, "nor a bag, but a bruised hobbit. The least you can do in amends is to tell me what is afoot."

"Anything that can keep so in this devil's mirk," answered Elfhelm, taking back his helmet that had fallen off him as he stumbled forwards, "But my lord sends word that we must set ourselves in readiness: orders may come for a sudden move."

"Is the enemy coming then?" asked Merry anxiously, "Are those their drums? I began to think I was imagining them, as no one else seemed to take any notice of them."

"Nay, nay," Elfhelm responded with a quick look so he had not dropped something else, "the enemy is on the road not in the hills. You hear the Woses, the Wild Men of the Woods: thus they talk together from afar. They still haunt Druadan Forest, it is said. Remnants of an older time they be, living few and secretly, wild and wary as the beasts. They go not to war with Gondor or the Mark; but now they are troubled by the darkness and the coming of the orcs: they fear lest the Dark Years be returning, as seems likely enough. Let us be thankful that they are not hunting us: for they use poisoned arrows, it is said, and they are woodcrafty beyond compare. But they have offered their services to Lord Théoden.. Even now one of their headmen is being taken to him. Yonder go the lights. So much I have heard but no more. And now I must busy myself with my lord's commands. Pack yourself up, Master Bag!"

He vanished into the shadows. Merry did not like this talk of wild men and poisoned darts, but quite apart from that a great weight of dread was on him. Waiting was unbearable. He longed to know what was going to happen. He got up and soon was walking warily in pursuit of the last lantern before it disappeared among the trees.

Presently he came to an open space where a small tent had been set up for the king under a great tree. A large lantern, covered above, was hanging from a bough and cast a pale circle of light below. There sat Oberyn, Théoden and Éomer, and before them on the ground sat a strange squat shape of a man, gnarled as an old stone, and the hairs of his scanty beard straggled on his lumpy chin like dry moss. He was short-legged and fat-armed, thick and stumpy, and clad only with grass about his waist. Merry felt that he had seen him before somewhere, and suddenly he remembered the Pukel-men of Dunharrow. Here was one of those old images brought to life, or maybe a creature descended in true line through endless years from the models used by the forgotten craftsmen long ago.

There was a silence as Merry crept nearer, and then the Wild Man began to speak, in answer to some question, it seemed. His voice was deep and guttural, yet to Merry's surprise he spoke the Common Speech, though in a halting fashion, and uncouth words were mingled with it.

"No, father of Horse-men," he said, "we fight not. Hunt only. Kill gorgun in woods, hate orc-folk. You hate gorgun too. We help as we can. Wild Men have long ears and long eyes; know all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone-houses; before Tall Men come up out of Water."

"But our need is for aid in battle," said Éomer from his place, "How will you and your folk help us?"

"Bring news," said the Wild Man, "We look out from hills. We climb big mountain and look down. Stone-city is shut. Fire burns there outside; now inside too. You wish to come there? Then you must be quick. But gorgun and men out of far-away," he waved a short gnarled arm eastward, "sit on horse-road. Very many, more than Horse-men."

"How do you know that?" asked Éomer.

The old man's flat face and dark eyes showed nothing, but his voice was sullen with displeasure.

"Wild men are wild, free, but not children," he answered, "I am great headman, Ghan-buri-Ghan. I count many things: stars in sky, leaves on trees, men in the dark. You have a score of scores counted ten times and five. They have more. Big fight, and who will win? And many more walk round walls of Stone-houses."

"Alas! he speaks all too shrewdly," said Théoden, "And our scouts say that they have cast trenches and stakes across the road. We cannot sweep them away in sudden onset."

"And yet we need great haste," Éomer replied, "Mundburg is on fire!"

"Let Ghan-buri-Ghan finish!" requested the Wild Man, "More than one road he knows. He will lead you by road where no pits are, no gorgun walk, only Wild Men and beasts. Many paths were made when Stonehouse-folk were stronger. They carved hills as hunters carve beast-flesh. Wild Men think they ate stone for food. They went through Druadan to Rimmon with great wains. They go no longer. Road is forgotten, but not by Wild Men. Over hill and behind hill it lies still under grass and tree, there behind Rimmon and down to Din, and back at the end to Horse-men's road. Wild Men will show you that road. Then you will kill gorgun and drive away bad dark with bright iron, and Wild Men can go back to sleep in the wild woods."

Éomer and his uncle spoke together in their own tongue. At length Théoden turned to the Wild Man.

"We will receive your offer," he said, "For though we leave a host of foes behind, what matter? If the Stone-city falls, then we shall have no returning. If it is saved, then the orc-host itself will be cut off. If you are faithful, Ghan-buri-Ghan, then we will give you rich reward, and you shall have the friendship of the Mark and the homeland of its current Queen forever."

"Dead men are not friends to living men, and give them no gifts," said the Wild Man, "But if you live after the Darkness, then leave Wild Men alone in the woods and do not hunt them like beasts any more. Ghan-buri-Ghan will not lead you into trap. He will go himself with father of Horse-men, and if he leads you wrong, you will kill him."

'So be it!' said Théoden, and given the history of the Drúedain being mistaken for savages in the past, requesting an end of those hunts and ignorance of them being fellow Men instead of odd-looking beasts, was reasonable to give.

"How long will it take to pass by the enemy and come back to the road?" asked Éomer when he made a mental count of all the men and horses with them, "We must go at foot-pace, if you guide us; and I doubt not the way is narrow."

"Wild Men go quick on feet," said Ghan, "Way is wide for four horses in Stonewain Valley yonder," he waved his hand southwards, "but narrow at beginning and at end. Wild Man could walk from here to Din between sunrise and noon."

"Then we must allow at least seven hours for the leaders," said Éomer after doing a second mental count, "but we must reckon rather on some ten hours for all. Things unforeseen may hinder us, and if our host is all strung out, it will be long ere it can be set in order when we issue from the hills. What is the hour now?"

"Who knows?' said Théoden in a regretful voice with a glare towards the darkness covering the sky and Oberyn himself had very difficult to guess the exact time himself, "All is night now."

"It is all dark, but it is not all night," said Ghan, "When Sun comes we feel her, even when she is hidden. Already she climbs over East-mountains. It is the opening of day in the sky-fields."

"Then we must set out as soon as may be," Éomer suggested, "Even so we cannot hope to come to Gondor's aid today."

Merry waited to hear no more, but slipped away to get ready for the summons to the march. This was the last stage before the battle. It did not seem likely to him that many of them would survive it. But he thought of Pippin and the flames in Minas Tirith and thrust down his own dread.

All went well that day, and no sight or sound had they of the enemy waiting to waylay them. The Wild Men had put out a screen of wary hunters, so that no orc or roving spy should learn of the movements in the hills. The light was more dim than ever as they drew nearer to the beleaguered city, and the Riders passed in long files like dark shadows of men and horses. Each company was guided by a wild woodman; but old Ghan walked beside the king. The start had been slower than was hoped, for it had taken time for the Riders, walking and leading their horses, to find paths over the thickly wooded ridges behind their camp and down into the hidden Stonewain Valley. It was late in the afternoon when the leaders came to wide grey thickets stretching beyond the eastward side of Amon Dn, and masking a great gap in the line of hills that from Nardol to Din ran east and west. Through the gap the forgotten wain-road long ago had run down, back into the main horse-way from the City through Anorien; but now for many lives of men trees had had their way with it, and it had vanished, broken and buried under the leaves of uncounted years. But the thickets offered to the Riders their last hope of cover before they went into open battle; for beyond them lay the road and the plains of Anduin, while east and southwards the slopes were bare and rocky, as the writhen hills gathered themselves together and climbed up, bastion upon bastion, into the great mass and shoulders of Mindolluin.

The leading company was halted, and as those behind filed up out of the trough of the Stonewain Valley they spread out and passed to camping-places under the grey trees. Théoden summoned the captains to council. Éomer sent out scouts to spy upon the road; but old Ghan shook his head.

"No good to send Horse-men," he said, "Wild Men have already seen all that can be seen in the bad air. They will come soon and speak to me here."

The captains came; and then out of the trees crept warily other pukel-shapes so like old Ghan that Merry could hardly tell them apart. They spoke to Ghan in a strange throaty language.

Presently Ghan turned to Théoden.

"Wild Men say many things," he said, "'First, be wary! Still many men in camp beyond Din, an hour's walk yonder," he waved his arm west towards the black beacon.

"But none to see between here and Stone-folk's new walls. Many busy there. Walls injured but still stand up: gorgun knock them down with earth-thunder and with clubs of black iron. They are unwary and do not look about them. They think their friends watch all roads!"

At that old Ghan made a curious gurgling noise, and it seemed that he was laughing.

"Good tidings!" cried Éomer with some hope in his voice, "Even in this gloom hope gleams again. Our Enemy's devices oft serve us in his despite. The accursed darkness itself has been a cloak to us. And now, lusting to destroy Gondor and throw it down stone from stone, his orcs have taken away my greatest fear. The out-wall could have been held long against us. Now we can sweep through the plains if once we win so far."

"Once again I thank you, Ghan-buri-Ghan of the woods," Théoden thanked with true, honest gratitude, "Good fortune go with you for tidings and for guidance!"

"Kill gorgun! Kill orc-folk! No other words please Wild Men," answered Ghan. 'Drive away bad air and darkness with bright iron!"

"To do these things we have ridden far," said Théoden, 'and we shall attempt them. But what we shall achieve only tomorrow will show."

Ghan-buri-Ghan squatted down and touched the earth with his horny brow in token of farewell. Then he got up as if to depart. But suddenly he stood looking up like some startled woodland animal snuffling a strange air. A light came in his eyes.

"Wind is changing!" he cried, and with that, in a twinkling as it seemed, he and his fellows had vanished into the glooms, never to be seen by any Rider of Rohan again. Not long after far away eastward the faint drums throbbed again. Yet to no heart in all the host came any fear that the Wild Men were unfaithful, strange and unlovely though they might appear. This much-needed help would not be forgotten or thought of as ill-intended in the future.

"We need no further guidance," said Elfhelm, "for there are riders in the host who have ridden down to Mundburg in days of peace. I for one. When we come to the road it will veer south, and there will lie before us still seven leagues ere we reach the wall of the townlands. Along most of that way there is much grass on either side of the road. On that stretch the errand-riders of Gondor reckoned to make their greatest speed. We may ride it swiftly and without great rumour."

"Then since we must look for fell deeds and the need of all our strength," Éomer suggested, 'I counsel that we rest now, and set out hence by night, and so time our going that we come upon the fields when tomorrow is as light as it will be, or when our lord gives the signal."

To this his uncle assented, and the captains departed. But soon Elfhelm returned.

"'The scouts have found naught to report beyond the grey wood, lord," he said, "save two men only: two dead men and two dead horses."

"Well?" wondered Éomer with some badly hidden alarm that Boromir could be one of the dead men, "What of it?"

"This, lord: they were errand-riders of Gondor; Hirgon was one maybe. At least his hand still clasped the Red Arrow, but his head was hewn off. And this also: it would seem by the signs that they were fleeing westward when they fell. As I read it, they found the enemy already on the out-wall, or assailing it, when they returned and that would be two nights ago, if they used fresh horses from the posts, as is their wont. They could not reach the City and turned back."

There was an unspoken relief between them that it wasn't Boromir who had fallen, but they still felt that this was probably done to prevent Minas Tirith from knowing that they had answered the call for help and were on their way.

"Alas!" muttered Théoden, "Then Faramir has heard no news of our riding and while Boromir hopefully arrived back to his city before the armies of Mordor, he can not bring those news with him either!"

"Need brooks no delay, yet late is better than never," said Éomer, "And mayhap in this time shall the old saw be proved truer than ever before since men spoke with mouth."

Upon hearing the agreement that they would soon be ready for battle, Oberyn turned to Nymeria who was standing next to him.

"Tell our men to assemble the carriages with the rotatable scorpions that we took apart in pieces to easier keep up with the riders. The Ringwraiths may not ride on dragons, but those anti-dragon weapons crafted by the Rhoynar should still work on their fey beasts as well those Oliphaunts that are said to be similar to elephants in Essos. If they are used just as elephants in war, then those scorpion bolts can be a way of killing them."

"Right away, padre!"

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It was night. On either side of the road the host of Rohan was moving silently. Now the road passing about the skirts of Mindolluin turned southward. Far away and almost straight ahead there was a red glow under the black sky and the sides of the great mountain loomed dark against it. They were drawing near the Rammas of the Pelennor; but the day was not yet come.

Théoden rode in the midst of the leading company, his household-men about him. Elfhelm's eored came next; and now Merry noticed that Dernhelm had left his place and in the darkness was moving steadily forward, until at last he was riding just in rear of the king's guard. There came a check. Merry heard voices in front speaking softly. Out-riders had come back who had ventured forward almost to the wall. They came to Théoden .

"There are great fires, lord," said one," The City is all set about with flame, and the field is full of foes. But all seem drawn off to the assault. As well as we could guess, there are few left upon the out-wall, and they are heedless, busy in destruction."

"Do you remember the Wild Man's words, lord?" asked another, "I live upon the open Wold in days of peace; Widfara is my name, and to me also the air brings messages. Already the wind is turning. There comes a breath out of the South; there is a sea-tang in it, faint though it be. The morning will bring new things. Above the reek it will be dawn when you pass the wall."

"If you speak truly, Widfara, then may you live beyond this day in years of blessedness!" said Théoden. He turned to the men of his household who were near, and he spoke now in a clear voice so that many also of the riders of the first eored heard him:

"Now is the hour come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl the Young! Foes and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon an alien field, the glory that you reap there shall be your own forever. Oaths ye have taken: now fulfill them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!"

Men clashed spear upon shield.

"Éomer, my sister-son! You lead the first eored," said Théoden, 'and it shall go behind the king's banner in the centre. Elfhelm, lead your company to the right when we pass the wall. And Grimbold shall lead his towards the left. Let the other companies behind follow these three that lead, as they have chance. Strike wherever the enemy gathers. Other plans we cannot make, for we know not yet how things stand upon the field. Forth now, and fear no darkness!"

The leading company rode off as swiftly as they could, for it was still deep dark, whatever change Widfara might forebode. Merry was riding behind Dernhelm, clutching with the left hand while with the other he tried to loosen his sword in its sheath. He felt now bitterly the truth of the old king's words:

"In such a battle what would you do Meriadoc? Just this," he thought; "encumber a rider, and hope at best to stay in my seat and not be pounded to death by galloping hoofs!"

It was no more than a league to where the out-walls had stood. They soon reached them; too soon for Merry. Wild cries broke out, and there was some clash of arms, but it was brief. The orcs busy about the walls were few and amazed, and they were quickly slain or driven off. Before the ruin of the north-gate in the Rammas Théoden halted again. The first eored drew up behind him and about him on either side. Dernhelm kept close to Théoden, though Elfhelm's company was away on the right. Grimbold's men turned aside and passed round to a great gap in the wall further eastward.

Merry peered from behind Dernhelm's back. Far away, maybe ten miles or more, there was a great burning, but between it and the Riders lines of fire blazed in a vast crescent, at the nearest point less than a league distant. He could make out little more on the dark plain, and as yet he neither saw any hope of morning, nor felt any wind, changed or unchanged.

Now silently the host of Rohan moved forward into the field of Gondor, pouring in slowly but steadily, like the rising tide through breaches in a dike that men have thought secure. But the mind and will of the Black Captain were bent wholly on the falling city, and as yet no tidings came to him warning that his designs held any flaw.

After a while Théoden led his men away somewhat eastward, to come between the fires of the siege and the outer fields. Still they were unchallenged, and still Théoden gave no signal. At last he halted once again. The City was now nearer. A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age. Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror and doubt had settled on him. His heart beat slowly. Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

But at that same moment there was a flash, as if lightning had sprung from the earth beneath the City. For a searing second it stood dazzling far off in black and white, its topmost tower like a glittering needle: and then as the darkness closed again there came rolling over the fields a great boom.

At that sound the bent shape of Théoden sprang suddenly erect. Tall and proud he seemed again like in his youth; and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!

Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!

spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,

a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

With that he seized a great horn from Guthlaf his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

Suddenly Théoden cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them. Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first eored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new tire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed.

"For the sun princess! FOR QUEEN ELIA OF ROHAN!" Oberyn called with the responding battle cry carrying the name of his sister behind him, and the Dornish riders and carriage-drivers split up in two parts, the riders following the Rohirrim, while the carriages in the back blocked a escape path for any enemies.

For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and the darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Author note: Pippin ending up jumping from foot to foot in pain due to not wearing any boots are so him, right? I know that the movies and books portray him in different lights, but hey, some small humor is needed among all seriousness and as a hobbit, he seemed like a given choice

With this version of Khamûl as a mortal ruler being inspired by Ramses II, Rhaenys mentions this AU version of how the 19th Dynasty of the New Kingdom during Ancient Egypt came to power. Basically, not long after that this Middle-earth version of Tutankhamun died from illness at age 10, the great-grandfather of Mara made a power coup and married the M-E version of the young, freshly widowed Ankhesenamun to Khamûl as a way to connect the two dynasties while he actually started a new dynasty of his own.

Given the changes done in the LOTR movies compared to the original books as Tolkien wrote them, I think the part with the Drúedain helping the Rohirrim was cut because it may have looked out of place as well being hard to explain for movie viewers who they were