The Stranger in Middle Earth

by JJAndrews

REMAKE COMING SEPTEMBER 1ST 2020. Book One. John Harris is a faithful servant of the House of York. After the Battle of Bosworth he and his family were journeying home when he was pulled into a war greater than any ever fought in England. He must fight in defence of not only his new world but in defence of his old one and in defence of Christendom.

14. Chapter 13 The Seige of Minas Tirith

The Stranger in Middle Earth

I do not own the rights to The Lord of the Rings

Chapter Thirteen

The Siege of Minas Tirith

The defenders if the city had been working nonstop in the days before the attack. Stretcher bearers had been trained to carry wounded men, conscripts had learned the basics of fighting, veterans had been re-armed and the building closest to the Houses of Healing were converted into makeshift hospitals. However, the most impressive preparation was in the form of Hand Cannons. Each Hand Cannon had a team of three men using it. They had been named Fire Hands. One man would carry, load and aim the weapon, one man would fire it and carry the match (the smouldering string on a pole and the final man was responsible for carrying the powder and bolts. They had drilled for hours, learning how to use their new weapons. One problem they quickly learned though was how inaccurate the weapon was at long range. My uncle therefore ordered them to only be fired on mass to make sure at least one bolt hit the target. Helping that was a mistake which turned out to be an advantage to the defenders of the city. Somehow my uncles order for a dozen Hand Cannons became two dozen and the forges somehow managed to make them.

The attack was inevitable but the White City would not be taken easily.

Horns blasted through the air. Men cheered. Orcs snarled. The battle was about to begin. My uncle stood on the Othram and he watched the enemy army assembling. It was massive. He had never thought he would see an army so large. Standing by him was Rickard's company of men and Gandalf. The fields around Minas Tirith were filled with the army of Mordor. From where he was he could see catapults, siege towers, dozens of Trolls and Orcs. Amongst them were men from the east and south.

'Is it too late to leave?' Rickard whispered to his father.

'I'm afraid so,' he answered.

They were both wearing full plate armour but Rickard was wearing a Gondorian helmet and held a Gondorian sword in his right hand. His shield was strapped to his left arm. My uncle also wore his scarlet cape and the visor on his helmet was up so he could see what was happening. Looking at his men he could tell how nervous they were. They were all so young. Too young for this.

'My brothers!' my uncle belted at the top of his voice. 'I now that you are afraid. So am I. But I am not afraid for my own life. I am afraid for the lives of the women and children in this city! We are fighting for them! If we fail they will all die. We will not let that happen. Now, harden your hearts and look into your soul! There you will find your courage. Now fight soldiers of the White City! FOR GONDOR!'

His men roared when they heard his words. All of them held onto his words as if it was food for a starving man. My uncle drew his sword and held it aloft and his men cheered again.

'WE WILL NOT FALL!'

This cheer was the loudest of them all. It sounded like the ocean smashing against a cliff. At that moment they felt invincible.

'Incoming!' someone shouted and they saw what looked like hundreds of rocks flying towards them.

My uncle didn't see the catapults launch their weapons. He quickly brought down the visor on his helmet and held his arm above his head to shield himself. Rickard held up his shield like the rest of the soldiers. When the rocks smashed against his shield something felt wrong. The rocks felt too soft and some felt like metal. My cousin lowered his shield and almost vomited at what he saw. They weren't rocks. They were heads. The soldiers who fell at Osgiliath had been mutilated and their heads used as weapons. The soldiers morale plummeted and some fell to their knees. My uncle couldn't let their morale fall. He knew how quickly fear could turn to anger. My uncle pulled up his visor and declared,

'REVENGE! WE WILL AVENGE THESE MEN! WE WILL HAVE OUR REVENGE!'

Thousands of his men, driven on by anger and disgust echoed their leaders cry of revenge. The Orcs launched a barrage of boulders and blocks of masonry from their catapults towards the city. Some men were struck on the walls and other rocks crushed buildings behind the walls.

'Trebuchets return fire!' Gandalf, my uncles second in command shouted. 'FOCUS ON THE SEIGE TOWERS!'

The trebuchets that lined the walls of Minas Tirith hurled their masonry at the enemy. Some siege towers toppled over and others struck the Orc's killing dozens at a time. My uncle smiled when he saw one siege tower break apart as it was hit.

'Well done men!' he shouted to the trebuchet teams.

His smile vanished as a terrible screech filled the air. He had heard it before once.

'Damn,' he hissed as his eyes turned to the sky.

Fell beasts ridden by the Ring Wraiths flew out of the clouds towards the city. My uncle counted them as they came. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. All of the Wraiths had gathered for the battle. One of them was the leader of Mordors army. According to legend no man could kill him. He was the Witch King of Angmar. The Wraiths descended upon the city, scooping up men in their talons and crushing them.

'ARCHERS!' my uncle ordered. 'BRING THEM DOWN!'

His order though was drowned by their screeches so terrible that they made men collapse in fear. The towers that survived the onslaught of the trebuchets had almost reached the walls. Archers shot down at the trolls pushing the towers but they couldn't stop them. The towers reached the Othram. My uncle hurried forwards and braced himself for the enemy. He stood in front of a siege tower and raised his sword. The draw bridge of the tower fell down and crashed onto the Othram. The Orcs raced forwards shrieking their blood cries as they hurled themselves onto the Men of Gondor. One jumped at my uncle who dodged it and hacked the Orc almost in half. He then ran his sword straight through the next Orc before easily dispatching two more.

Rickard stopped an axe blow with his shield and then ran the Orc through with his sword. Next he swung his sword at an Orc who blocked it with its own sword. My cousin swung again, this time at the Orcs leg and sliced it off at the knee. The Orc was then dispatched by a foot to the head. The next Orc swung a spiked club at my cousin but it missed and the Orc was killed by a stab to the back by one of my cousins men. Rickard couldn't thank the soldier. The Orcs kept coming at them through the siege towers.

'Hold firm!' my uncle ordered when he saw some men retreating. 'There is nowhere to run!'

My uncle cleaved open an Orcs skull and sliced the next one in half.

'Peregrin Took,' he heard Gandalf say and he turned around to see the Hobbit standing a little away from the fight. My uncle rolled his eyes at the Hobbits foolhardiness.

'Get the Hobbit out of here!' my uncle shouted just as another Orc attacked him.

'We were called out to fight,' Pippin said as Gandalf killed another Orc.

'This is no place for a Hobbit!' Gandalf quickly shouted.

A group of Orcs charged towards Pippin but Gandalf jumped into them killing them. While Gandalf's back was turned he faced an Orc charged behind the wizard but Pippin stabbed it with his short sword. When Gandalf saw what Pippin had done he nodded at the Hobbit and smiled.

'Guard of the Citadel indeed. Now back up the hill quickly.'

Pippin obeyed the wizards order as the fight continued.

My uncle, seeing that the attack by the towers was slowing down, decided to move along the rest of the Othram so his soldiers knew he was there. When he reached the Gates he saw a pile of bodies were in front of the gates. All of them Orcs who were trying to use a small battering ram to knock the gates down.

'How is this part holding out?' my uncle asked the officer there.

'Very well sir,' he answered as he shot an arrow at an Orc killing the beast. 'They're not breaking through the gates with that battering ram.'

'Maybe we built the barricades for nothing,' my uncle said to himself.

The Orcs attacking the gates retreated leaving at least a hundred bodies by the gates. My uncles smile vanished when he saw what was coming. All of the Orcs starting chanting,

'GROND, GROND, GROND!'

Moving towards the gates, dragged by massive beasts, was a battering ram larger than any he had ever seen. Made in the shape of a beast with a fire in its mouth and hanging on a gigantic frame, it crawled towards the gates.

'Damn,' my uncle whispered.

As the battle went on into the night the Orcs had started to use fire as a weapon. Their catapults launched burning projectiles into the city setting the first level of the city on fire. Even worse, the battering ram named "Grond" was right outside the gates. Slowly it started hammering away at the gates, each time it hit the gates they became weaker and weaker. My uncle had moved his men onto the barricade and the archers on top of the gates had been pulled back. All of the men on the Othram had pulled back into the city, the Orcs giving up on the tower attacks by then. The retreating men had retreated past the barricade through the gaps at the sides of it. Once all the men were through the gaps were plugged by wagons loaded with rocks. On the front of each wagon was a four foot wide wooden sheet two inches thick and covered with spear tips, so anyone who attacked it would be impaled on them. The troops had nicknamed them "Knife Carts". Grond hammered away at the gates, each blow coming closer to breaking the gates down. My uncle stood on the barricade next to the men armed with Hand Cannons. The men in the forges didn't make the dozen Hand Cannons, they'd made twenty. Twelve of them were lined up on the barricade, ready to destroy whatever came through the gates. Standing with them on the barricade were archers and behind them regular infantry, ready to fight it out. Behind the barricade reserves of archers and swordsmen waited to move forwards.

'Not a step back!' my uncle ordered.

Just to my uncles right stood Rickard and Faramir. Faramir wore plate armour but still had his bow.

'Fire on my command!' my uncle shouted and raised his sword.

Grond struck again, breaking the gates open and charging through came four Trolls, some wearing armour but all carrying massive war hammers, into the courtyard.

'FIRE!' my uncle shouted.

The Hand Cannons fired. Twelve bolts flew through the air and smashed into the Trolls. Three of them were cut down while the last one had its arm torn off.

'Second wave,' said my uncle and the Fire Hands stepped off the barricade. In their place the other Fire Hands behind the barricade stepped forwards and aimed at the last Troll.

'Fire,' my uncle ordered and the Troll was killed.

Following the Trolls came the Orcs. Hundreds of them poured into the courtyard hurling their battle cries at the men on the barricade.

'Fire Hands will retire to the next barricade! Archer's fire!' my uncle ordered and nearly a hundred archers on the barricade unleashed their arrows into the Orcs mowing them down. With each step the Orcs took they lost dozens of their soldiers.

With each Orc killed the defenders confidence grew and then the Orcs smashed into the barricade. The archers stepped back and melee soldiers stepped forwards to stab down at the enemy. My uncle hacked down with his sword, cleaving an Orcs head in two while Rickard slashed and killed an Orc. In moments the Orc attack ground to a stop. Orcs tried climbing up the barricade but the defenders hacked off their hands when they saw them. Some Orcs armed with spears stabbed up at the defenders and killed a few but they were soon killed by their vengeful foes. For close to ten minutes the Orcs tried to attack over the walls but they kept dying. Behind the barricade Faramir and the archers launched a barrage of arrows over the barricade and into the packed Orcs. They were so tightly packed together that the archers couldn't miss. Injured Gondorian's were carried away on stretchers held by the youngest conscripts. They were to be taken to the Houses of Healing.

'They're just standing their asking for it!' Rickard shouted as he killed the next Orc.

'Keep fighting Rickard,' he said to his son.

For half an hour they battled the Orcs at the barricade killing hundreds of them. As my uncle killed another Orc he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. He looked up towards the dark sky and saw it. Hell was descending.

My uncle never believed that you should throw away the lives of your soldiers but he learned that the Witch King disagreed. He didn't care how many of his own soldiers he killed to win the battle. He had ordered a dozen catapults to release balls of fire upon the courtyard.

'OFF THE BARRICADE!' my uncle shouted when he saw the fire coming towards them.

My relatives ran off the barricade, as did many of the men who served under them, but not all of them escaped the fire. Some of the fire balls crashed into the gates, others landed amongst the Orcs in the courtyard, some hit the men behind the barricade but two destroyed the barricade. Clouds of flame filled the air. Men and Orcs were incinerated. Chunks of splintered and burning wood crashed into the men who had defended the barricade. My uncle looked at the breach in the barricade as the Orcs poured through it. Those savage beasts screamed as they charged towards the defenders of the city. Without a moment of hesitation my uncle, followed by Rickard and the rest of the men, attacked the Orcs.

The fighting was bloody and my uncle couldn't count how many Orcs he killed. His blade was black with Orc blood. Even with the barricade gone the defenders could not be broken. Then the next wave of Trolls came. Three of them smashed through what was left of the barricades and then through the defenders. Realising that the courtyard could be held no longer my uncle ordered the retreat. The men raced through the burning streets of Minas Tirith down one direct path. The passed streets and alleys blacked with debris and rubble designed to force the Orcs to take one path through the city. It would be impossible to outflank the barricades. My uncle was at the rear of the retreating force with the Orcs only meters behind him. At the head of the Orc attack were the three Trolls ready to smash apart anything in their path. At last my uncle saw the second barricade on the first level. He was the last person the pass through the gap at the side of the barricade before the knife carts were rolled into place. Standing on the barricade were all of the Fire Hand teams who aimed their weapons at the Trolls and fired. The Trolls were torn apart by the latest weapon in Gondor's arsenal. While the rest of the men from the first barricade kept running through the city to get themselves refreshed for later in the battle my uncle and Gandalf stayed at the second barricade. Defending that barricade was a force of two hundred swordsmen and spearmen and fifty archers. It was enough to hold them.

'Fire Hands retire behind the barricade,' my uncle ordered as he stepped onto it. 'Archers fire!'

He felt tired. His sword was heavier than it always had been but he still fought. Orc after Orc fell to his blade and those of the Gondorian's and Gandalf. However, the next wave of attackers wasn't Orcs. They were Easterlings, men from the east who had sworn allegiance to Sauron. They wore uniformed armour and carried square shields which they held above their heads as they advanced. Their formation resembled the one the Uruk-Hai used to march up the causeway at Helm's Deep. The arrows the defenders fired just bounced off of their shields so my uncle gave the order.

'Fire Hands step onto the barricade,' they did as he said and took aim at the Easterling attackers. All two dozen Hand Cannons were ready to unleash their fury at the Easterlings. 'FIRE!'

The Hand Cannons roared into life and the twenty four bolts shredded through the tight formation. Forty of them were killed in the attack.

'Archers fire!'

Arrows hurled through the disorganised column of Easterlings and cut dozens of them down. As they tried to reform they were slaughtered and soon that entire column was destroyed. Behind them came more Orcs. Leading them were Orcs armed with billhooks to tear down the barricade.

'Fire at will!' my uncle barked and the archers let loose a cloud of arrows into the Orcs cutting them down. The ground was soon littered with bodies and my uncle smiled. The plan was working

The Hand Cannons had been reloaded and their bearers stepped forwards to fire them. My uncle was surprised at how quickly the Gondorian's had learned to use them. Each Hand Cannon needed two men to use. One to aim and load it and one to fire it. They had trained hard and had mastered its use. Now they unleashed another barrage into the enemy ranks mowing them down. My uncles moment of pride in his men then vanished when he heard something. Booming coming from where the Orcs were. A Troll, fully armoured, rounded the corner and charged towards the barricade.

You idiot! my uncle cursed himself. They were a distraction. They were waiting until the Hand Cannons had to reload. The Witch King is a cunning foe.

'Archers fire!' he ordered and the archers launched arrow after arrow at the Troll. Most of them bounced off of its armour but some pierced its armour and a few hit it in the face. As the Troll died it hurled itself forwards onto the barricade.

My uncle and most of the others retreated off of it just in time but some of the men didn't and were crushed. My uncle pushed himself up and saw the Orc tide surging towards them.

'Retreat!' my uncle shouted.

As they ran my uncle looked up and saw the Witch King on his Fell Beast.

'The next trap will be yours!' my uncle hissed.

They made it to the next barricade, the last on the first level, and, after the gaps were blocked by knife carts, my uncle stepped onto the barricade and gave new orders.

'From now on the Hand Cannons will only be used against Trolls! Do you understand?'

'Yes sir,' the commander of the Fire Hands answered with a salute as he held his weapon proudly.

'Actually wait,' my uncle changed his mind. 'Half of the Hand Cannons will mount the barricade!'

They followed his order and half of them mounted the barricade. The Orcs charging towards them roared their unholy war cries as they eagerly got ready for what they thought would be a slaughter.

'Hand Cannons fire!' my uncle ordered for what felt like the tenth time.

Ten bolts tore into the Orcs killing many of them. As my uncle expected a Troll charged forwards after they had fired.

'And now the trap is yours,' my uncle said with a smile. 'Hand Cannons, get up here and bring that Troll down!'

They followed his order perfectly and fired their weapons. The Troll fell dead, a massive chunk torn out of it, and crushed some Orcs as it fell. The archers on the barricade started firing their arrows cutting down Orcs.

'James,' my uncle turned around to face Gandalf on his horse, 'I think you should pull back to the next barricade. I'll take your place here.'

'I'm fine Gandalf,' my uncle snapped as the Orc's hit the barricade.

'James do as I say.'

Knowing that Gandalf wouldn't stop his arguing my uncle reluctantly left the barricade and started the walk to the next one. The street was empty of life. Deserted. But he could still hear the screams of battle just behind him. Men were fighting and dying there. It didn't take him long to walk through the archway to the second level. The next barricade was there. It was identical to the others.

My uncle passed through the gap in it and was greeted by hundreds of men saluting him.

'Father!'

Rickard, who had been behind the barricade, hurried to his father's side and hugged him.

'Are you alright?' he asked his father.

'Just tired,' he answered. 'Tired.'

'Then let me get you something to drink.'

'It will take more than drink,' my uncle said as he sat down on a crate.

'What do you mean?' Rickard asked his father.

'I mean I'm tired of all of this,' he said as quietly as he could so only Rickard could hear him. 'Fighting. I want this to be my final battle. After this, I hope I don't need to fight again.'

Rickard looked at his father. They both knew that war drains the spirit from all men. Even the best soldier can't fight forever.

'No one will force you to fight after this,' Rickard told his father. 'You've done enough in this war already.'

James Harris smiled at his son.

'I think you might be right.'

Their moment was ended sharply and suddenly by a screech filled the air. Wraiths on their beasts swooped down from the sky and attacked the barricades. They tore them apart with their talons and slaughtered the men on them. My uncle was thrown to the ground by Rickard who shielded his father with his body. When the Wraiths left the barricade was completely destroyed.

'Christ,' Rickard cursed. 'What do we do now?'

Before my uncle could answer that question Gandalf rode up to him followed by what was left of his men.

'The Orcs are right behind us,' he said to my uncle and then gave the worst news. 'Most of the Fire Hands are dead. Only two teams are left alive.'

'Close the door here!' my uncle snapped at the nearby men. 'We retreat to the third level, rally our men there and prepare a counter attack! MOVE!'

Hundreds of men retreated through the city passing what was left of barricades and picking up more men. When they reached the third level hundreds of men had gathered there. Most were shouting while the officers tried to restore order. My uncle climbed on top of a pile of crates and started barking orders but no one listened.

'SILENCE!' Gandalf dark booming voice restored order.

'We are going to counter attack!' my uncle shouted. 'Bring every barrel of black powder here. HERE!'

'Will you need my help?'

My uncle looked towards the voice and saw him. Marching through the crowds dressed in mail armour and carrying a sword, followed by dozens of the Citadel Guard, including Pippin, was Denethor.

'Aren't you supposed to be in your chambers?' my uncle asked him.

'I have snapped back to my senses.'

My uncle thought about it for a moment. Should he allow Denethor to help in the defence. If he refused than he may lose control of his forces. My uncle decided.

'I know how I can use you and your men,' my uncle said and then he gave out his orders.

The men quickly piled the barrels of powder around the gates to the third level while the Gondorian infantry stood fifty yards away from the gates. My uncle positioned many archers, led by Faramir, in the buildings close to the gate to give them a good position to shoot their arrows. Soon they heard something pounding against the gates. It was a Troll trying to smash the gates down. When this was happening my uncle began the last part of the plan. He opened a barrel of the black powder and poured all of it on top of another barrel. He quickly ran back to the main line of Gondorian's as they waited for the Troll to break through. My uncle, standing next to Gandalf and Rickard, got ready for the fight that was about to begin. The Last of the Fire Hands got ready to fire once the doors opened. After many blows from the Troll the gates burst open and the forces of Mordor surged through.

'Hold,' my uncle shouted so the archers could hear him. Carefully he judged the distance and when the enemy had reached the point half way between the entrance and the soldiers he gave the order. 'FIRE!'

The Fire Hands used their weapons and killed the Troll. However, the main order was to the archers. They aimed their burning arrows at the barrels of powder and let the arrows go, striking the powder.

KAAAAAAABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The powder exploded creating a fireball that incinerated the Orcs leading the attack. Half of the Orcs that made it though were killed in the blast, either by the fire or by the shrapnel. The entire archway that supported the gates was destroyed. Blocks of white stone crashed into the massed ranks of Orcs crushing them. For a few precious seconds there was silence. The Orcs not caught in the blast froze in the spot. The Gondorian's were frozen, waiting for an order. My uncle raised his sword and gave them an order.

'CHARGE!'

The doors for the buildings around the Orcs were thrown open and out of them charged the Guards, led by Denethor who gutted an Orc in moments. The main Gondorian line, led by Gandalf and my uncle, hit the Orcs from the front. My uncle sliced his sword straight through two Orcs and then ran his blade straight through another one. What was left of the Orc vanguard was slaughtered in less than a minute. The defenders didn't stop there. Lead by their Supreme Commander they charged straight into the Orc ranks. Faramir joined in the charge as well and, fighting alongside his father, they cut a path through the Orcs. As the battle went on and on they pushed the Orcs back to the centre of the second level and were stopped at the ruins of a barricade. The Orcs had pulled back a hundred yards and my uncle took the tiny respite to form a plan.

'Hold here!' my uncle ordered and killed another Orc. 'Rickard, Denethor, you and your companies will form a shield wall and halt any Orc attack. Everyone else, rebuild this barricade. NOW!'

They moved to quickly obey his orders. My cousin and Denethor ordered their companies to form a shield wall across the street blocking any Orc attack. The rest of the soldiers quickly used everything they could find to rebuild the barricade. The piled chunks of stone and wood together. They smashed open the doors of nearby buildings and used the furniture and they added an intact knife cart to the barricade. The barricade was quickly built. It was little more than a pile of rubbish but it was better than nothing. Just as they finished it again the Orcs attacked again. The Gondorian forces in the shield wall retreated behind the new barricade and prepared themselves. The barricade was four feet high and three feet thick. My uncle smiled at how well they obeyed his orders. They were all excellent soldiers. But even with such brave men he knew that the battle wasn't over. But still my uncle knew that leading them in battle was the greatest honour of his life. Where they had built the barricade they could see Pelannor Fields and the sun rising over it. The fields were filled with Orcs. They hadn't even dented the Orc army. He knew that they would probably die in Minas Tirith. He was about to prepare himself for the next Orc attack when he heard it. A horn. Not the guttural, brutish horns of the Orcs but a smooth, deep one. That horn was then joined by many others and my uncle looked to the hills beyond Pelannor. Rising over the crest of the hill he saw a line of horses. Behind them stood another six thousand.

Rohan had come.

AN: Well what did you think. With this chapter I wanted to show how James is skilled as both a warrior and a leader.

By the way I wanted to bring this up. Has anyone noticed that Gondorian soldiers in the films were like the Storm Troopers of Middle Earth? They're kinda hopeless. In this chapter I wanted to make them look like great soldiers.

Review Response:

Kiya: Well I wanted to put my own spin on The Siege of Minas Tirith and I wanted to think of a neat weapon so I said to myself, "I'll give 'em guns."

Please review. Have a nice day.