Flashback in Italic.
Morannen, Denethor POV
Looking ahead, Denethor sees a dusty plain taking an ever-larger shape in front of him. He knows what this plain is; the Dagorlad. The place he never wanted to visit but which they need to reach. It is the only way for their plan to succeed if they reach it. Next to him, the Ephil Dúath has been an endless companion ever since they started making their way north. But with the Dagorlad taking shape, the mountain disappears before them, leaving only an empty plan in front of them.
Glancing around, he looks for Gil. At this time, they must send out the scouts. It cannot wait any longer; they need to know what they will be facing in this area. And they need to finalize their battle plan. He has not brought it up yet and neither has Gil. But now, time is running out for them. These plans need to be made soon. If not right now. Seeing Gil in the distance next to Halon, he moves his horse forward.
People move out of his way while hoofbeats sound behind him signaling his guards are dutifully following him. A revelation, he quickly abandons in his pursuit of getting to Gil. The closer he gets, the more obvious it is Gil and Halon are talking about something. Soon, he nears Gil closely when Halon turns his head towards him. Halon's eyes narrow while his lips thin. Denethor has to refrain from reacting similarly. He does not like Halon at all but also cannot use any hostilities between them at all. At least, right now.
Turning his head back, he seeks a momentary distraction. In the distance, he finds one in Imrahil and king Éomer talking with each other. It seems to be a pleasant conversation based on the smiles on their faces and their laughter. His nephews are also riding close by the two. Whether they are listening or contributing to the conversation, he cannot tell. But no matter, he has distracted himself long enough. He turns his attention back to Gil and notices Halon is no longer focused on him. Riding forward, he moves his horse right beside Gil who notices him immediately.
"Thor, is something wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong. There is just something we need to talk about."
"Indeed, there is. I think you had the same idea as me; it is high time for us to send out the scouts. If we want to have even a small chance of surviving we need to know what we will be facing soon."
"So I have indeed but that is not all we need to discuss."
"If you are referring to the formatting of our men, then yes I already thought about it. However, I would prefer to discuss this with all the captains and lords present."
"That would be ideal and I do not think we will be traveling for much further."
"No, we will not. I would want to have the scouts' report before we move any closer towards the Dagorlad than we currently are. If you agree then we will stop in about a mile."
"I think that would be best. As we stop, will you instruct the scouts while I seek out the captains? Or …"
"That would be wise, I think. Most captains know you better than they do me."
"Oh, they know captain Thorongil also well. He is still a legend here in Gondor. I just wonder how long it will take before the others make the connection."
He laughs to himself and sees Gil frowning, a look of understanding growing on his face. Did Gil think Thorongil would not be remembered well? Some of the captains are old enough to have known him or seen him. They will have told the others the stories which are told about Thorongil's accomplishments. He shakes his head and glances back.
Prince Imrahil still rides next to King Éomer. Imrahil is one of the people who have known Thorongil even if it was but a short time. He bites his lips to keep a laugh away. Prince Imrahil will be highly surprised to learn the heir of Elendil is the one he knew as Captain Thorongil. He would not have expected it. Imrahil would deem Gil to be kin of Thorongil but not Thorongil himself.
Soon they reach a place suitable to camp for the remainder of the day. Denethor watches as the camp is erected. Halon lingers around Gil for no apparent reason. Halon seems to be doing nothing useful. He shakes his head. He does not understand why Gil would allow it for a while before he finally sends Halon away with an assignment of - again - no importance. He has to bite his lips to keep from speaking up. Halon is highly annoying in his opinion; if he had to deal with him so often then he would have had a lot of problems with him. With Halon send away, Gil calls the scouts to him who arrive quickly. At this he leaves, confident Gil can handle the remainder on his own and also because he has better things to do.
Walking around the camp, he seeks out every captain he can find to inform them about the coming meeting and to instruct them to spread the word before he makes his way to the chosen space. There he waits for the captains to arrive after they have finished with their duties. It takes a while before nearly everyone has gathered. Only one person - except Halon who he does not miss - is absent; Gil.
"Do any of you know where Lord Aragorn is?"
"No my lord, I do not know. I have not seen him since we arrived here."
"I saw him talking with the scouts some time ago but if he is still there I cannot tell."
He glances at the elves present hoping they can help him where the captains fail to do so. The sons of Elrond only grin at him. He glares at them but stops after a moment when he notices the only response he is getting from them is an increased grin. Balling his fists, he turns towards one of the guards.
"Beregond, go fetch Lord Aragorn. We will wait with starting this meeting until he arrives. And make sure you press the urgency of him joining us."
"Yes, my lord."
Beregond bows and leaves. Snickering sounds around him. He looks up and the snickering stops immediately. He cannot tell who was laughing as everyone looks perfectly calm. It is then he turns back to laying out the maps all the while hearing the captains move nervously around. He studies the map but not without looking up from time to time to make sure everyone is behaving.
At one of those times, he sees Imrahil doing the same thing as him. From time to time, he also catches Imrahil's eyes, the questions visible in them. Questions, he does not address because he is unwilling to even contemplate discussing them.
After some time, he can hear Gil talking with someone. Their conversation cannot be understood but their voices can be heard. He recognizes Gil's voice easily enough but also the other. He closes his eyes. Of course, Halon would join them. Just when he thought he was rid of him. He takes a deep breath knowing also Halon is needed here as Gil's standard-bearer.
Within moments, Gil and Halon join them. He looks up and sees the eyes of a few lords - who are within his line of sight - flickering in confusion. He can hear the scraping of boots moving and imagines a few men are bowing. The others are conflicted regarding the appropriate behavior towards Gil. He smiles at Gil who nods to him before moving to his side. He glares at Halon who quickly follows behind Gil and stands on his other side. Only then does he deign to speak to the men once more.
"Now that we all are here, I would prefer to discuss our strategy for when we are on the Morannen."
"You mean once Mordor unleashed its full might on us? I have said so before and will do so again; this is a ridiculous thing to do."
"Yes Lord Lathron, once Mordor unleashes its full might on us. And as Lord Aragorn explained, this charge is critical to ending the war."
"Yes, and we will all die. I did not sign up for this."
"Mind your tone, Lord Lathron."
Lord Lathron fumes at him, his face reddening. It is an emotion he returns in kind. Who does Lord Lathron think he is? He has been causing nothing but problems in the past. And unfortunately, he was never able to properly deal with him due to the ongoing war. It was a risk he could not take then but it will not be long now. Once this fight is over, Lord Lathron will get what he deserves. Even if he will not be the one to render a judgment which he will regret.
"My lord Denethor, shall we discuss our strategy now that Lord Lathron has addressed his concerns."
Gil's voice pulls him from his thoughts and he turns towards him. It is then he sees the captains shaking their heads with big smiles on their faces. Some are even clapping lord Lathron on his back and whispering words to him. Whatever is being said, is not good because lord Lathorn's face grows incredibly red. The only two who do not do either of these two things are Gil and Halon. Finally, Halon does something right. Denethor glares at the other captains. He knows what they are doing but does not deem the time right. Halon glares back at him misunderstanding the subjects of his ire. Turning fully toward Gil then, he smiles.
"You do not have to be so careful in your wording, Lord Aragorn. Lord Lathron is simply trying to be difficult as he has always been. But you are right, we should discuss our strategy now that everyone has gathered. And someone keeps his mouth shut for the remainder."
All the men nod except for Lord Lathron who is silently fuming even more. The steam is coming right off his face with how bright red his face has gotten. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Gil's lips coming up in a smile only to disappear seconds later. A spark though is visible in his eyes. He frowns but does not turn his head to fully face Gil after having turned away from him.
Just then a discussion breaks out between the men. Multiple options are brought forward and quickly shot down by others. It happens constantly. Some want to put all the men together while others want to split them up to allow for greater mobility in tactics. His lips thin and his eyes narrow as he catches Gil glancing at him. Moments later, Gil finally contributes to the discussion, having stayed silent the entire time.
"If I may, I would like to offer a suggestion."
"Of course my lord, what is your suggestion?"
"I would arrange for the men to be placed in a circular formation around the two hills here."
Gil points at the map to the two hills in front of the Morannen and makes out the circle he would have the men create. All heads turn towards the map. Glancing at the captains, he sees a few frowns coming across the faces of the younger captains while the older ones look contemplative at the suggestion. He finds the suggestion to be valid. It is the best of all the options he has heard being shared since the discussion started.
"You made a valid suggestion, my lord. A very valid one. From all the options we dismissed so far, this is by far the best one we have."
"Prince Imrahil is right. There is little else we can do which has any chance of success."
"Do we even have a chance of success?"
He looks up and instantly glares at Lord Lathron. Why, oh why could he not stay silent as he ordered. Is he deaf? No, just being his obnoxious self. His face becomes hot and he clenches his fists. He opens his mouth to resort when Prince Imrahil speaks up.
"Are we in agreement then with Lord Aragorn's plan?"
The heat steadily becomes lesser. A cold wind hits his face cooling it down completely. Looking around, he is met with only nods. Prince Imrahil looks highly confident in whatever he is agreeing with. The northern captains smile at Gil with a calm look on their faces. It shows the confidence and trust they have in his tactics. It is then he notices a frown on the face of the Citadel guard captain, Tirron, who he assigned to Gil. It does not take long for Tirron to speak up.
"May I offer a suggestion?"
"Of course, captain. I am interested in hearing what you have to offer."
He stays silent, interested in hearing Tirron's suggestion just like Gil is. He knows all the citadel captains; they never give useless advice. It is expected as the lives of those they protect depend on their solid judgment. And Tirron is one the best else he would not have assigned him to Gil.
"Well, it is more an addition to the current tactic we agreed on. Here in the front, the fighting will be the heaviest. I believe it would be best to place our best warriors in this place. They will then have the best chance of preventing a breakthrough."
"A solid suggestion, captain. It would give us a better chance at a victory even if it does not increase our chances by much."
"Why would you put our best men there? They can be of better use at the back of the line."
He groans, unable to contain it. Of course, lord Lathron. Who else would cause a fuss over a solid suggestion? It would take his best warriors away from lord Lathron. Some of them are even his kin such as his younger brother who he prefers to deal with. Turning towards Lord Lathron, he glares at him.
"And why is that, Lord Lathron? In my opinion, we would be faced with heavy casualties if we do as you suggest."
"Does it matter?"
Besides Lord Lathron, captains are frantically calling for him to stop. He narrows his eyes, hoping he is getting the message, and stops suddenly. His patience is already running thin. He will not like what will happen to him if he does not stop. Just as he thinks this, his glare intensifies.
"Are you saying the lives of the men under our command are unimportant?"
Lathron shuffles his feet and looks to the ground. The silence stretches in the group as Lathron refuses to respond. He narrows his eyes for a moment before smiling thinly. He feels certain Lord Lathron has learned his lesson this time and if not - he smiles gleefully - then he knows how to deal with him. Hopefully, Gil will not protest too much then. Gil? He turns towards Gil who looks at him with a frown. He smiles calmly unwilling to show his real emotions before speaking up.
"My lord Aragorn, I say we follow captain Tirron's suggestion and adapt our tactics accordingly. Everyone in agreement?"
Everyone nods while Lathron balls his fists in response to the glare he gives him. Lord Lathron should not get it into his mind to protest any further. If the majority agrees - and they have - then they will do what is agreed on. He sees Lord Lathron turning his eyes to him. A determined look is on his face. He holds his breath wondering what he will do now.
Suddenly, hoofbeats sound in the distance. The sound quickly becomes louder. He does not pay attention to it as his attention is more occupied with keeping Lord Lathron under control. And he suspects them to belong to the scouts. If it is the case then they are back quickly. Too quickly. They cannot have done a good job at scouting unless the situation there is truly dire there. Within moments, the beating stops, and men run towards them.
"My lords, excuse us. May we speak with you for a moment?"
"Of course, you may. My lord Aragorn, I wish to convene my gratitude for sending such good scouts. There really was no one better to choose."
"Of course, my lord Denethor."
Gil looks at him with laughter in his eyes and laughs silently, having understood what is being said. His words might sound harsh but are entirely directed at the scouts. They disrespected their duty by coming back so quickly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a few badly hidden smiles as well as frowns. The scouts, he cannot tell but hears their shuffling feet.
"Shall we leave, my lord, so you can talk to the scouts with Lord Aragorn?"
"No, there is no need for that, your highness. Everyone should hear what these excellent scouts have discovered."
He narrows his eyes at Prince Imrahil who only lifts an eyebrow. Laughter sounds from around the group. He looks around wondering who could be so disrespectful. As he looks, he notices how nearly everyone is laughing or struggling to contain it. Prince Imrahil shrugs once before speaking up.
"Of course, my lord."
"Well then, what have you found so far. Or have you found anything at all?"
He turns towards the scouts of whom most are scuffling around. From these four, only one looks him in the eye while the others stare at the ground biting their lips. This one is also the only one to speak up.
"We have, my lord. It is just that we were unwilling to get any closer than we already went for fear of being discovered."
"Well, what have you found?"
"The Dagorlad is empty while watchers are on the towers. On neither side of the Dagorlad, we could find any traces of traps or something hidden. While we were there, more troops from the south and east arrived."
"How large were those troops?"
"I am not sure but suspect they were 100 each. At the very least, if not more. But then I could not uhm get a better number on them from the distance we were at. Yes, and I was unwilling to risk revealing our presence."
"A well-chosen method for scouting in such a dangerous location. Do you not agree, my lord Denethor?"
"Mhh, yes, yes. I agree, Lord Aragorn. For the situation you four did what you could but do not think you can flout your duties in the future, am I understood."
"Yes, my lord. We understand."
The other scouts nod their heads very seriously. Laughter breaks out once more among the group. This time, he glares at everyone who even dares to show a hint of amusement. After the amusement calms down, he sighs. The scouts had good reasons for their actions even if he is unwilling to admit it. And at least, the men can have some fun which he knows they need. The heavy weight on them is oppressing and then is this amusement a desirable distraction. Before long, he dismisses everyone and they all leave. However, at seeing Gil leaving, he calls out.
"My lord Aragorn, could you stay for a moment?"
Gil turns around and nods before walking back to him. They stay silent watching the captains leave. While waiting, he starts to move around restlessly. He wants to talk with Gil about something but even thinking about it makes breathing more difficult. It is as if the stress cuts of his airways. He knows what he wants Gil to do and why. And he knows Gil will fight him on it if he considers their previous actions. After some time, he does not see any captain remaining. It is at this time for him to speak up only for Gil to be faster.
"Thor, what is wrong?"
"Nothing, I just worry for what is to come."
"If you say so. But that is not why you requested of me to stay, right?"
He sighs and watches Gil look at him with a questioning look in his eyes. He smiles as Gil saw through his excuses and decides to explain things plainly. There is no need for him to sweet-talk it.
"No, it is not. I suspect we will be able to meet with some sort of emissary from Mordor and would like for you to handle the negotiations."
"I am not sure, Thor, that it is a good idea. I may be a captain of the host but you are the ruling steward. You or maybe even Éomer - though he has not been crowned yet - have the authority to speak for others."
"That may be so, but you are our rightful king. The people know about it and I believe it is time we make a point of it to everyone who has not yet realized it. You are the king and I will be your steward if you want me to be."
Gil smiles and shakes his head. He tilts his head wondering what is going on in Gil's mind. What is he thinking and why is he amused? He made a point of acknowledging Gil's position more times than once. So it cannot be concerning that. He watches as Gil seeks out his eyes before speaking up.
"If I had a choice in stewards then I would certainly choose you or your son. I would never take it from your house. You have served Gondor rightly in the absence of a king. It would be foolish to dismiss those centuries of hard work."
"Then do your duty, my king."
He bows to Gil and leaves. He does not look at how Gil responds to this and refuses to hear any more about it. Walking at a brisk pace, he hurries through the camp towards his horse. All around him, the camp is being broken down and men are moving into a marching position. He smiles pleased. Now only the last leg of their march will have to be made before the future is being decided.
Riding at the front of the group, he sees Gil looking back. He tilts his head and follows Gil's gaze. It allows him to see the lieutenant direct the men into their position. He only looks at it for a short time before watching Gil once more. Gil does not take long before taking his attention away from them and nods to him. He returns the nod. They both know what their objective is right now even if none expect to succeed. It is unlikely for Mordor to surrender especially as they have the number advantage.
Turning back to the front, he watches as the back gates become steadily larger. Within moments, they reach the gates and come to a stop. Growling sounds from above. He looks up to see arrows being trained on their heads. A few spears are even moved into a position from which they can easily be thrown. His eyes widen at seeing the danger they are in right now. Mordor can easily kill them now. He glances at the orcs holding them for a moment before focusing his attention on the gate once more.
No one makes a sound waiting anxiously for what is to come. A loud screeching sound coming from the gate breaks the silence. Slowly. Ever so slowly the gate opens. The orcs standing guard start to shout while waving their spears around. A beating sound comes from the other side of the gate. He shares a quick look with Gil who shares his feelings of unease. Soon the future of the free world will be decided. He cannot wait for Mordor's emissary to meet with them.
Hoofbeats sound from behind the gate steadily becoming louder. He looks towards the gate and into Mordor for the first time. Orcs move behind the gate forming larger fighting units while slamming spears on the ground. And moving towards them is a pure black steed. The steed becomes steadily more visible allowing him to see a man of great stature riding on its back. The man is dressed in all black and wears a large helmet.
His heart starts to beat loudly in his chest. This is it. The future of Gondor and the free folk will be decided now. And the truthfulness of the words he remembers will be revealed. Some things, he cannot turn back from but others have not yet been decided. The man stops a short distance away from them before speaking up. A scratching voice can be heard. One which has not spoken the common tongue in too long.
"Why have you come here? To discuss the terms of your surrender, heir of Isildur? Do not look so surprised I know your identity. My lord knows who his greatest enemies are. A pity you did not perish in one of the past battles."
"Before I am willing to discuss our reason for coming, I would like to know who it is I am dealing with."
"I am but a humble servant of the Lord of Gifts who tasked me with discussing terms with you, heir of Isildur. However, I am left wondering why you, Lord Denethor, do not speak. Do the stewards not rule Gondor? This heir of Isildur holds no real title. He is merely a simple ranger."
He narrows his eyes at the 'humble servant'. There is nothing humble about him; he is a traitor. One of the black Númenoreans. He is certain of it. His certainty grows with each passing minute the traitor speaks. And also, his height confirms this. Glancing at Gil, he sees how he is patting his horse's neck while his back's stiff from tension. He bites his lips before turning towards the traitor once more and glares at him. The man does not react except grin brightly. Wanting to remove the grin, he decides to speak up.
"Lord Aragorn speaks because it is rightfully his place. He retains the title of the king even if it is not yet formally confirmed. So, keep a civil tongue to the one who will be deciding your fate shortly."
"Where does this hope come from, my lord Denethor? Last I knew you realized the futility of resisting the rightful rule of the Lord of Gifts. So why hold on to this futile hope."
The eye glows brightly in the distance no doubt hating his earlier words. He smiles gleefully until the traitor's words reach his mind. He glares at the traitor unwilling to back down right now. Glancing at Gil, he nods to him in such a manner it would barely be visible to those around them. It is then Gil resumes his negotiations.
"You're referring to the victory over this war. A victory which is not yet certain. I would not make statements which have no certainty for your lord can still lose."
"A bold statement when you are hopelessly outnumbered."
"Are we?"
At this, the traitor falls silent. Denethor keeps his face impassive while glancing at Gil who looks calmly. Gil must certainly be enjoying this. His statements are no lies but bragging. All to get Mordor to surrender how unlike it is. Glancing around the group, he sees his feeling confirmed in their eyes. The traitor is no longer as confident as he was before. Something Gil makes good use of soon after.
"Are you ready to discuss the terms of surrender for your lord?"
"Our terms of surrender? Think about those friends of yours whom you have sent to their deaths."
Suddenly the traitor lifts a shirt for everyone to see. It is a brightly gleaming shirt. He frowns. It almost looks as if it is made from Mithril but it cannot be. How could periannath have gotten their hands on Mithril? And why does the traitor bring it forward? The periannath's cry of denial tells him something as does the dwarf's growling. The traitor does not pay attention to it but keeps on talking.
"If you want to survive then you will be leaving these lands immediately without your weapons. You will accept the rule of our great lord and never bear arms against his army. We do not want to see any of you here again unless you are in chains."
"Keep your false words for your own kin. It might convince you but not anyone here. Our friends are still alive. Of that I am certain."
He turns towards Mithrandir, glaring at him. Mithrandir should not have gotten himself involved in this. In fact, he should not have traveled with the captains. But then why is he even surprised. Mithrandir always sticks his nose into matters he should not. Mithrandir does not seem to notice his glare as he moves his horse forward and snatches the Mithril shirt out of the traitor's hands. Within moments, Gil turns to the distraught periannath.
"I do not believe it. Frodo is still alive. We would have known had the Ring fallen in Sauron's hands."
Gil nods towards him, moments before he turns his horse back to the host. They all quickly follow him. Dust follows in their wake. The host moves restlessly where they stand. The closer they get, the more visible it becomes. He can see the fear and desire of them to run. But it will not happen.
Glancing at Gil, he sees a determined look on his face. Gil knows what he must do. Unsheathing his sword, Gil comes to a stop in front of the host and addresses the host.
"Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"
While Gil was speaking, he and the other captains had dismounted and sent their horses away. They won't be needed for what is to come and should seek safety. Gil does the same once his speech is over. And only then does he finally look at the outpour coming from Mordor.
His eyes widen at the sight before him. He knew there was a large force in Mordor but this large? It goes beyond his wildest dreams. A stone drops into his stomach and his hands fall beside his body. He grapples for his sword to unsheath it but is unable to find it. Dark clouds gather in front of his mind. His thoughts turn back to the ride back. They all make so much more sense now. The sense of dread and certain doom he felt. It causes the memories to appear in front of him.
Riding back, he swallows and tries to hide it. This meeting did not go as he wanted. It went in completely the wrong direction. There are no other words for it. All which the 'servant' uttered were threats and provocations. All in an attempt to give Mordor a justification to eradicate them. He is just thankful no one fell for it. Even if it does nothing for the situation they are in right now.
His heart starts to beat faster in his chest thinking about their much-desired victory. He knows. He knows there is no way for them to win the coming fight. Absolutely no way. Mordor will show them no mercy at all. Any chance they had of a victory has just evaporated. It does not mean anything good for their future. No matter how short their future will be. It will all be pain and misery.
He clenches his hands on the reins and feels his horse taking on a nervous gallop. Patting him on his neck, he calms his own heart down with trouble. He knows he had hope before this meeting. But it has left him completely. The words which gave him so much strength and hope are nothing but an illusion of what he has desired for so long. A peaceful land under his or Gil's rule.
As his heart finally slows down, he berates himself. Who is he even fooling? He should have known this would happen. Mordor has never really swayed to their threats or the defeats they suffered. Nor their allies. No, they always were quick to strike back harshly.
He knows now what all these thoughts did; increase the sense of desperation and doom he felt. It all guided him down a dark path from which only death is a reasonable departure. He was just so worried his hope would be proven false. It was just when he was so deep in the fog of his despair that Gil's words reached him. And also the cheering which came from it. He was quick to join in because those words gave him the hope he needed to stand here now.
And at the same time, he knows he cannot show any sign of weakness in front of the men. He has to keep a strong face as he has always done. It was important then and is even more important right now. He will go down fighting if it is meant to be his fate to die here. And there is one thing he hopes for; being able to kill a lot of orcs and other dark servants before he dies. If all manage it then they will ensure the survival of as many men as possible. Men who will be needed to ensure people like the peasants can flee to safety.
Just as these thoughts cross his mind, the forces of Mordor encircle them. Spears are battered on the ground while loud shouts ring through the air. The ground starts to shake beneath his feet as something large comes his way. He swallows, seeing a sight out of stories; trolls. Clenching his fist, he unsheathes his sword and grips it tightly in his hand. Leather scraping against leather can be heard around him.
He narrows his eyes. The fight for their lives and the future of the free people will be decided right here. Slowly the orcs move closer to them with bright smiles on their faces. They are certainly enjoying what will be happening soon. And anyone thinking to leave has lost their chance long ago. Even without being encircled, there was no chance of leaving and now the chances have been destroyed. All that remains is fighting which they will do.
[V1: He swallows at the sight before him. This is just a lot. It is like all of Mordor is being emptied. There is absolutely no way for them to beat this. Gil's plan has to work for else everyone will be dead. This friend for who they are offering an opportunity should finish his task soon. They will not be able to keep this army at bay without massive deaths for long.
Gil looks back and surveys his troops. He moves forward to stand directly next to Gil. Nodding once, they turn their attention back at the army. Horrible screeching comes from above. He looks up and his eyes widen. The Nazgul have joined the fight. If the situation was dire before then it is absolutely pitch black right now. There is no one they have any chance with this army and the Nazgul together.
"Stand fast!"
He clenches his hand around the handle of his sword and unsheathes it. His heart fills with even more dread as the outdoor continues. He pushes it away because he cannot show any sign of fear; the men depend on him holding out hope. Even if there is no victory possible. The negotiations failed. The future looks bleak. The black clouds swallow him and any hope he had is lost. The words he remembered are nothing but a fleeting fancy. He sighs; this is expected.
What was he thinking by agreeing to this? Mordor has never swayed to their treats. They only changed the order by increasing their own treats. By sending more troops, diseases, and whatnot. Everything is bleak around him. No hope exists. Any thoughts he had about a victory will be false.
Looking to Gil, he narrows his eyes and smiles. Gil looks at him reassuringly. He shakes his head; Gil still has hope so he cannot despair. He cannot back down. As he told himself earlier, he cannot show any weakness in front of the men. He cannot. No matter how much he despairs. He has to keep on going.
He narrows his eyes; he will go down fighting if it is the last thing he can do. Sauron will not get him under his sway ever again. He will be dead before that happens in battle or by his own hands. He smiles wryly. No matter what happens, he hopes they will manage to kill a lot of orcs. At least enough to ensure the survival of as many as possible so they can return to Minas Tirith and help with the last siege.
He looks ahead and catches Gil's eyes. Gil looks at him questionably. A look of determination comes over his eyes. Whatever Gil saw has moved him to do something but what? He frowns.]