Dirt clouds rise before them as the orcs rush towards them. Within moments, they crash on them. An orc lashes out at him and he is quick to retaliate. The orc falls while another tries to take revenge by trying to strike him. Again he is quick to lock blades with this orc. He shares several strikes with it before he pulls his knife out. The struggle continues until he is finally able to stab it in the neck. Turning around, he lashes out with his knife and sword. Two orcs fall around him as more move in.
He narrows his eyes. He intends to win this fight. If it is not possible then he will take as many as he can with him into death. The group before him would be a good place to start. He grins at the orcs who sneer at him for a moment. The sneers increase and he lets them until they finally run at him. He is quick to strike them down even if he winces from all the cuts and bruises he receives. Suddenly, he looks around for more orcs to take down as none stand before him.
Momentarily none move towards him. It is this moment he uses to look at the ground around him. Numerous orcs lie dead on the ground. He glances around him and sees heavy fighting. All the men are fighting for their lives with numerous orcs lying dead on the ground around those still standing. A few men try to aid those who have fallen only to be cut down themselves. Here and there, he can even see some of his men lying dead on the ground.
A clinging sound echoes loudly through his ears. He spins around preparing to strike when he sees it. One of his guards is pushing his sword against an orc trying to push it back while the orc has the same thing in mind. He knows what this means; the guard just protected him from the orc's attack. Glancing around, he strikes down an orc just as it tries to stab him. Another orc falls to his knife moments later. All this allows him to see how his guards are dutifully protecting him.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a flash of light and turns. One of his guards was just cut down and the orc who cut him down quickly runs towards him. He prepares to strike all the while knowing more guards will die here. They do their best to protect him but it is futile. The orc reaches him and he locks blades with it. The orc grabs his armor and tries to pull him off balance. He retaliates by stabbing his knife in the orc's knee and pulls it out quickly. Seconds later, he stabs the other knee. The orc falls to the ground with a shout. He pushes his sword through the orc's unprotected neck before it can recover.
Afterward, three more orcs fall to his sword while he holds his side where a cut has gotten through his armor. He does not know when he got it. He only now feels the wound pulling and throbbing. Quickly glancing around, he searches for Gil feeling his concern for his friend growing. He sees Gil's guards dutifully protecting him. Gil seems to be mowing his way through the line of orcs around him.
A screeching sound comes from above and he ducks. Screams sound behind him. He glances up and sees the Nazgul raiding their force from above. They pick up men only to drop them to the ground not long after. Dropping them to certain death. He winces as he sees one man fall to the ground. He turns around when he hears a sound and blindly lashes out with his sword. The orc blocks it with his own. He pushes against the orc only to feel himself being pushed back. Suddenly his feet are pulled out from under him and he falls.
A sword comes down towards his chest when the orc suddenly stops. A shocked expression on its face. Quickly he rolls away just as the orc's sword clatters on the ground. Crouching, he looks back at the orc. A sword protrudes from the orc's chest. Once the sword is pulled out, the orc falls to the ground and he can look at his savior; one of his guards but he cannot remember a name. He nods from where he crouches on the ground while his hands are on his knees as he heaves for air. Hands pull him up as voices reach his ears.
"My lord, are you hurt?"
"My lord, are you alright?"
He turns his head around to find two guards looking at him with unhidden concern. Their hands are clamping on his arms. He looks around them seeing the battle still going. Why did he think otherwise? Men of Gondor have formed a tight circle around them. He turns back to his guards who have not yet let him lose nor shed their concerned looks. Biting back a harsh response, he speaks up.
"I'm alright thanks to your efforts."
"Are you sure, my lord?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You don't feel any pain?"
"Not more than is to be expected when one is in a battle."
"Are you …"
"I am certain. Now let me go and let me get back to the battle on hand."
He glares at the guards daring them to contradict him. One of the guards opens his mouth only to be cut off by another screech. It comes from above so he ducks. And just in time to not be caught by the descending claw. Around him, he can hear the screams from the men rising once more. He quickly turns around and lashes out with his sword. His sword catches an orc in the neck which falls immediately.
The screeches come and go ever faster. He grinds his teeth not liking this situation at all. He cannot do anything about the Nazgul. No matter how much he likes to. They are raiding their small force decreasing their numbers even more. If this continues then their numbers will be cut in half within minutes.
A bird's cry breaks the screeching. He frowns, wondering what just arrived as he continues to fight. It cannot possibly be actual birds; they cannot possibly take on the Nazgul. Once he has managed to push enough orcs away, he looks up. Large eagles are attacking the Nazgul. He smiles even if he would not have believed it had he not seen it. Their arrival is a welcome relief. At least the Nazgul will not bother them anymore too busy fighting off the eagles.
The ground suddenly shakes beneath his feet. He looks around. What happened? What is coming his way? A few men fly towards him and he has to jump to avoid being hit by them. They fall on the ground with the sounds of their bones breaking too loud in his ears. He slowly turns his attention to where they just came from and his eyes widen. A large troll is making its way to him swinging its club around. With each swing, more men are thrown through the air.
Quickly daring a glance at Gil, he sees his friend is involved in the same thing; another troll is attacking him. His attention wants to remain on his friend but he knows better. He turns his head and focuses on the troll in front of him while clenches his hand around his sword. There is no way for him to fight this thing. No way of surviving.
He smiles grimly. He knows what will come to him but will not go down without a fight. This thing will be injured before he kills it. Nothing will stop him from doing so. Holding the sword in front of him, he clenches his other hand around the first. Staring ahead, he waits for the troll to make its first strike against him.
"My lord, get out of here. We will hold it off."
He turns to the guards who have moved next to him and are pushing him backward. Shaking their hands off, he pushes forward. The guards stand bravely in front of him refusing to move. Pushing forward, he meets staunch resistance. Growling, he speaks up.
"Move! What good will it do for me to flee? We have no means to deal with a troll so escaping is not an option for me. So if you are afraid then you should just leave."
He stares at the guards who all shake their heads. A few look at him with carefully hidden fear. He turns back to the troll now this problem is solved and prepares himself for what is to come. The troll gets ever close to him. He lashes out with his sword but the troll does not react to it. It brings its club down. He jumps out of the way and falls to the ground. Moments later, he quickly rolls even further when the troll tries to step on him. Springing to his feet, he attacks the troll from behind. Finally, a scream comes from the troll.
He smiles. Finally, he managed to wound the troll sufficiently for it to react. Now all that remains is for him to kill it. Even if he has no idea how to achieve it. Pain flares in his side and his feet come loose from the ground. He feels the air sliding past him until his back harshly connects with the ground and hears his knife and sword clattering on the ground beside him. Pain flares through his back as the air is knocked out of his lungs. He groans and clenches his eyes shut. Opening them, everything in front of him is swimming.
He remains where he is even if he knows he needs to get up soon. Just as he opens his eyes once more and nothing swims something heavy presses on his chest. He groans and moves his hand forward to push it off. His hands connect with flesh. His eyes shoot upwards and connect with the troll's body. The troll presses his foot harder on his chest restricting his breathing. He grabbles around seeking any weapon he can find. Anything small because spears and swords will be useless against this.
The longer it takes for him to find his knife, the less air he can get into his lungs. He feels himself swooning and the world swirling once more. He keeps on trying to find a knife until finally he manages to grab the handle of a knife and he stabs at the troll's foot. An action, he repeats constantly. And when the foot lits a bit he makes good use of the opportunity; he stabs the knife right in the underside of the foot. The troll stumbles back holding his foot. He quickly gets up while holding his chest with his hand. He can get more air in his lungs right now even if every breath is a struggle. It feels like a hot poker is pushed into his chest.
Turning around, his guards push closer to him as even more orcs come upon them. The troll he pushes off is making its way back towards them. A shout comes from beside him. He turns and strikes the approaching orc down. Immediately afterward, he starts to wheeze from the burn in his chest and he holds his side grinding his teeth.
Taking a deep breath, he pushes the pain away as sweat builds upon his stern. Picking up his sword, he notices he has been using his knife. Looking ahead, he joins in the fighting once more. Ever slowly, he is pushed back towards the others who are still standing while many fall around him. Their numbers dwindle slowly but too quickly for his liking. He strikes every orc down which comes close to him while the screeching of the Nazgul's beasts accompanies it. He can feel himself swooning but refuses to give in. Suddenly the screeching stop. He glances up just when the Nazgul head back towards Morder.
The orcs keep on fighting but with no clear direction. They glance at one another and allow openings in their ranks to appear. It allows them to push them back. Glancing to Gil, he receives a nod which he returns. He follows Gil as he throws himself into the fray. Under Gil's guidance, they push the orcs back even further making a push towards Mordor. The orcs put up a valiant defense but are unable to keep them at bay.
Suddenly the ground starts to shake beneath their feet and they halt. He sways and grabs the man nearest to him by the arm and preventing himself from falling. Then he looks to Gil who seems to be focused entirely on something in Mordor. Following his gaze, he sees how Mount Doom explodes. The Nazgul try to flee only to be struck down by the stones being thrown high in the sky from Mount Doom. A grumbling sounds from close by. He watches as the towers start to collapse and the forces of Mordor flee around them.
The ground before them slowly disappears into an abyss, swallowing those who do not flee it approach quickly enough. He stumbles back to not be swallowed himself and lets go of the supporting arm. It is then he sees some Easterlings coming towards them. He grips his sword tightly only for his eyes to widen when they throw their swords in front of their feet. Then the Easterlings drop to their knees with their hands held out; a clear sign of surrender.
He motions for some men to tie them up before he looks around. Everyone is cheering for the victory they have achieved. He smiles and joins in the cheering as much as he can. The freedom of Middle Earth is assured. After a short time, the pain flares brightly in his chest once more and he looks down. Blood slowly drips from under his armor and he sways. Arms immediately stabilize him and he leans on them. Now he is willing to let his wounds overcome him a bit.
Aragorn POV
Taking a deep breath, Aragorn looks around the field before him without really paying attention to what is visible. His mind moves to Thor who he has not seen for quite some time. Not since the troll singled him out. But now the battle has ended and won as much as possible, he has even more important things to do than looking for Thor. Even if he is pleased with the ending. He shakes his head; he should not be considering these things right now.
Looking around the field for real this time, a stone drops into his stomach from what is in front of him. Around him, men lie on the ground. Most are still bleeding while some have stopped doing so. Besides them, lie men who are still breathing. Some are moaning while others do not. As he looks, he notices how their numbers are higher than those who are dead.
Walking forward, he looks at them trying to see who needs his aid the most. Most have major cuts which bleed while some do not show any injury. He looks them over first after seeing men attending on the bleeding men. He is certain the unconscious ones need his aid the most. And while he does this, he takes in how many casualties there are.
A few minutes later after finishing with one of the men, he moves to the next only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turns around and sees Tirron standing there. A few other guards stand around him shielding them. Some sway on their feet and he frowns as he looks them over. Why are they still here if they are wounded? Turning to Tirron, he raises an eyebrow.
"My lord, please. You have to take some rest. Let the healers do their job. You are exhausted and need it."
"These people need help which I can provide. Once everyone has been seen to I will take rest."
"My lord, the healers are more than capable and better rested. Please take some rest. You cannot help anyone if you are exhausted and fall over."
"It will be quite some time before that happens. And I know the healers are capable but so am I. And they need any aid they can get. There are just too many men to see to."
"Regardless of that, you need to think of yourself, my lord."
"Aragorn! There you are. I have been looking for you."
At the shout, he looks up and turns his glare away from Tirron. In the distance, Halon is quickly walking towards him with a worried look on his face. He smiles, removing any trace of irritation from his face. He is confident Tirron's worry is also reflected in his eyes even if he cannot see it just yet. The guards turn around and face Halon. The spears they hold go up in a defensive move only to be dropped quickly once they have recognized Halon.
"Good to see you again, Halon. I lost sight of you during the battle. Are you alright?"
"I am fine, Aragorn. Only a few cuts and bruises have yet to be attended to. Oh, do not worry, once all the severely wounded have been seen to I will let a healer look me over. But are you alright?"
He nods, pleased Halon reacted to his unvoiced concern. He is just not sure how to respond to the question. He had an altercation with a troll but is not really injured because of that. Or at least, he does not notice any pain. And he knows, should he give any hint of it then Halon will insist Dan or Ro look him over. Best to avoid that. Smiling, he speaks up.
"I am fine, Halon. Thank you for your concern."
"Are you sure, my lord? You fought with a troll who stamped on you."
"What! Aragorn! Why did you not tell me? How can you say you are fine? I am going to get one of the twins, right now."
He glares at Tirron mentioning this. Halon did not need to know about it. Tirron only looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He turns to Halon and is met with a glare. Thankfully Halon has not yet left. Clenching his hands, he speaks up.
"Because it is nothing serious."
"Yes, yes, you say that but I am not convinced. I know you and I know the stories my father told me about you. Dan or Ro will look you over and I am going to get one of them right now. No more delays."
"That is not necessary."
"I insist. I promised my father that I would look after you when he is not around. So they will look you over whether you like it or not."
"I do not need another nursemaid, Halon."
"Yes, you do. You ignored more injuries than many I have met."
He glares at Halon urging him to step down. He only receives a glare in return with fire blazing. Waiting for a bit, he hopes the fire will go out. Even if he does not believe it. It proves to be true because after a few minutes there is no sign of Halon giving in. Sighing, he looks away.
"Fine, I will admit defeat. But Dan or Ro will look me over after I finished here."
"And afterward, you will rest, my lord. I insist."
"Yes, you should as everyone who fought should. Captain, you do not need to worry. Lords Elladan and Elrohir would have forced him to rest soon either way. Especially after they hear what my good chieftain fought on his own."
"If you say so."
"Then as we agree, I will go tell them."
"Halon!"
Halon does not react to his words but quickly runs away. He sighs. He should have known Halon would not react to it. He was lucky Halon waited for as long as he did. Shaking his head, he turns back to the work on hand. He should continue with his work here before his brothers do seek him out. They will not be as lenient as Halon and Tirron have been.
Turning around, he looks around the field and sighs. He wants to help those he can but knows it is impossible now. Dan and Ro will seek him out soon. And Halon will most likely be keeping an eye on him from somewhere. If not personally then by ordering someone to do it in his place. There is only one thing he can do.
Walking over the field, he checks the people over before instructing surrounding men to bring them to the healers if they are still alive. Those who are dying, he also sends to the healers to ease their suffering. Every face he burns into his mind. None who have sacrificed their lives here will be forgotten. He will make sure of it. Soon, he comes across one man dragging another off the field and calls out to them.
"Is there anything I can do for you two?"
The man who leans on the other turns around. His eyes widen seeing Thor is the one leaning on the other, most likely one of his guards. His face is pale and sweat glistens off his brow. He cannot be sure if the sweat comes from the battle or from the injury Thor surely has. The hand pressed to his side tells him this. The guard quickly turns them both fully around. It allows him to see Gil holds his side as if it hurts him greatly. He frowns. This must be where the injury is located. But where does it come from? Just as he thinks this, the guard speaks up.
"No, my lord. There is nothing you can do. I am taking lord Denethor to the healers."
"I can see that. Might I ask what happened?"
"He fought with a troll and was wounded in the side because of it."
"Alright, let me walk with you then."
"Do not bother, Gil. As I told this good guard, they have more serious cases to handle. I can wait for a bit. There is no need for me to go to them right now."
"I disagree, Thor. You are bleeding. Your wound has to be seen to soon or it will only get worse."
To strengthen his point, he points to Thor's side where blood is slowly dripping on the ground. It escapes between his fingers. Thor's glove certainly looks as if it has soaked up a lot of blood. He must know this so why is he ignoring it. Thor looks at him with a determined look.
"I am fine, Gil. You have much more important to do than walk with us. And you also need to rest."
"Let me be the judge of that. At least, allow me to look at it and you can rest afterward. The situation is under control here and I do not think I am needed. If I orders are needed then Éomer or prince Imrahil will be able to handle everything."
"Alright, you look at my wound. Why are you smiling, captain Tirron?"
He turns to Tirron upon Thor's annoyed tone. Aragorn has to struggle to keep a smile off his face. Tirron is smiling. As he thinks about what, he has to stop a groan from escaping his mouth. He just urged Thor to do what he refuses to do. To mask his feelings, he looks expectedly at Tirron.
"Oh for no real reason, my lord. I am just amused that Lord Aragorn urges you to rest while he refuses to do so."
"Is that true, Gil?"
He gives Tirron a hard look. There was no need to bring that matter up. He knows it and already agreed to rest. Besides, Thor does not need to know about it.
"Gil?"
"Yes, it is true. But I have agreed to rest and for Dan and Ro to look me over after finishing here."
"And have you finished?"
"For the most part. All the important matters have been seen too. There are only a few minor things to see too. They can wait for later after I have seen to your wound."
"Then let us go. And Gil, you can leave those matters to the other captains. If they are minor then they do not need you. You have to take care of yourself."
He nods and follows Thor and his guard as they leave the field. Along the way, he can see men tending to the horses, carrying wounded past them, and returning to the field with an empty stretcher. No one speaks to them though they receive questioning looks from guards. One of the lords steps forward and is about to speak when Thor turns to him with a glare.
Soon, they reach the camp and have to struggle through the hustle here. Men are hurrying around here while healers run around tending to the wounded. They also have to be careful not to step or stumble over men who lie on sheets or stretchers in the path. He can see men being placed everywhere where there is a place.
As they walk, he looks around searching for one of his Dúnedain. He needs something which he has left behind on Rohyrin. As he looks, he sees many people hurrying around but none are his Dúnedain. Where is Halon when he needs him? He bites back a sigh wondering who could aid him when an idea strikes him and he turns to Tirron.
"Could you please fetch my satchel for me?"
Tirron nods and beckons for one of the guards to leave which this person does. He does not know who just left because he does not yet know the names of his guards. He looks to the sky. Who knows if they remain his guards after all this. All indications so far give him hope he will gain the throne but he cannot be certain. Thor has accepted him but it is not his decision to make. The council will have to accept his claim once he makes it. And about their response, he is not certain.
Despite his thoughts, he walks on. Soon they reach Thor's tent and step inside. Thor's guard puts him carefully down on the field bed and he kneels next to him. While they wait for his satchel, he looks Thor's wound over. But before he can do so, he has to take Thor's armor off.
"Captain, can you aid me with taking the steward's armor off?"
"Of course, my lord."
"Thank you but be careful."
"Yes, my lord."
Together they work to take Thor's armor off beginning with the armor plates. It is a slow process because he does not want to worsen any injuries hidden underneath it. With every plate taken off, he looks carefully at it. He looks to see what damage the plate has taken to determine what injuries might be hidden. Most of the damage is dents. It is not something he worries about.
Once all the plates are off, he starts to pull off the gauntlets and gloves before looking Thor's hands over. They're red but considering the fight, he does not worry about it. It is then he pulls the gambeson off before removing Thor's shirt. It is as he does this that Thor hisses and retracts a bit as if in pain.
Taking it a bit slower, he carefully removes the shirt. He sees how Thor's chest is covered in dried blood and even some fresh blood. Just as he realizes this two steaming bowls of water appear beside him as well as a few bandages, a sponge and soap. Footsteps sound as someone retreats. He turns his head just as he sees someone leaving the tent. He shakes his head before picking up the soap bar. He quickly scrubs his hands with the soap bar before washing them in one of the bowls.
Then he picks up the sponge, dips it in the water, and cleans Thor's chest with it. It is slow work as he has to clean the sponge multiple times and Thor hisses whenever he comes close to a hidden wound. Slowly wounds become visible to him. He carefully marks their location before continuing with his work. But once he manages to remove the blood completely from Thor's chest, he feels with his hand along the wounds and more importantly the cut on Thor's chest. The cut encircles Thor's entire chest.
Turning to the side, he looks at the breastplate once more. He frowns, wondering why he did not see anything to indicate such a wound. It is then he sees how dented the chest plate is. And the dents are exactly where Thor has his wound. Grimacing at the sight, he turns his attention back to Thor and feels along his chest looking for any broken bones. He finds them quickly. Standing up, he cleans his hands once more before going through his satchel. He easily finds the creme he is looking for quickly.
"My lord, can I help you with anything?"
He turns around towards the voice and sees a young apprentice healer standing at the entrance of the tent. She is holding a tray with more bandages as well as some pots of creme in her hands. He smiles and motions for her to put it down but frowns when she does so. He has not asked for an apprentice to help him. So why is she here?
"Why are you here, …?"
"My name is Míriel, my lord. Master Nellor send me here to aid you."
"Did he now?"
"Yes, and…I…I might…I might have, well, asked him if I could watch you as you are healing steward Denethor, my lord."
"May I ask why, Míriel?"
He motions towards a bandage which she quickly gives him. He can see her smile when he does not send her away nor ask for Nellor's response. He carefully binds the bandage around Thor's chest and feels her eyes watching his every more.
"Well, uhm, I just heard about your skill and wish to watch you healing people."
"Oh, you want to watch the king's hands at work, am I right?"
He looks up glaring at Thor. There is no need for her to be embarrassed even more. She is already embarrassed enough as is. There is no need to increase it. Thor either does not notice his look or simply ignores it. Míriel shuffles her feet for a bit before she finally dares to answer the question.
"Yes, my lord."
"Then help me with caring for Lord Denethor's wound."
"Yes, Sire."
Thor sniggers only to gasp seconds later. Aragorn smiles brightly. Thor just got his punishment for enjoying this too much. He quickly turns his attention back to the wounds and takes care of them with Míriel's aid. Nevertheless, his thoughts get drawn to Míriel's way of addressing him. So far, no one has used this form before. Even if some nearly did it. But now someone finally used it, he is certain it will happen more often if not always.