The Stranger in Middle Earth

I do not own the rights to Lord of the Rings

Chapter Fifteen

The Sky Clears

I fell to my knees, exhaustion filling my joints and clouding my mind. It was all for nothing. So much pointless death and destruction. Alaric fell from my hand and hit the blood soaked ground. Slowly I reached up to my head and pushed up my visor so I could get some fresh air into my lungs. The air was filled with smoke and blood that almost choked me. I stayed there in that state of despair for what felt like hours until I saw something in the corner of my eye. My head turned towards it and to my absolute horror I saw a wall of green smoke racing across the field. As it approached I saw that it wasn't smoke, but spectres. Ghosts. Trying to battle the fear that was taking hold of me I picked up Alaric and prepared to make a last stand. They swarmed closer to me like a wave but then veered off, charging towards the Orcs. I didn't know what was happening and I needed to find out. When I looked towards where the ghosts had come from I smiled. Fighting in the midst of the ghost army against the Orcs were three people I knew. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. I knew then that these ghosts were our allies and we were saved.

'What are you waiting for John?' I heard the hard voice of Jason shout at me.

I looked around and saw him walking towards me. In one hand he held his sword and in the other he carried a Haradrim scimitar.

'I'm waiting for these ghosts to finish off the Orcs,' I answered him.

He shook his head and then started walking towards the nearest Orcs, hoping to get a few more kills in. My smile then started to fade away when I remembered Theoden. Hurrying back to where the king lay I found Eowyn next to her uncle. I didn't hear what they said but I saw on the kings face was a tiny smile. He looked as if he was a at peace. Slowly I stopped and knelt next to him. The king was dead. Eowyn looked down at her uncle and tears trickled from her eyes. Pure despair filled her soul as she grabbed onto his body and let all of her sadness fall from her.

Looking around me I saw similar scenes playing out across the battlefield as men searched for their friends. Two riders were approaching me then. Robert and Markus. Behind them was another rider, Father Harold. The look on his face was one of great solemnity. After a while I saw him climb from his horse and step over to a dying man to give out the last rights.

'John,' Robert asked me, 'where is the king?'

I shook my head and pointed to where his body lay. When Robert saw him he hung his head low.

'How many?' I asked Robert.

'I don't know,' he answered. 'Of our own perhaps a quarter of the knights and nearly all the men at arms.'

'It's a complete waist,' Markus said as he climbed from his horse. When he looked at Theoden's body he saw the kings niece. 'What is she doing here?'

'I don't know,' I answered as I looked at her. She was shaking as she sobbed over the kings body. 'But she killed the Witch King.'

'What?' Markus asked. 'How?'

'Skill,' I answered.

Eowyn still held onto her uncle so Markus and I walked across the battlefield towards Aragorn. He stood there holding a new sword in his hand. Standing next to him was Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf, who had just left the city. When his eyes came to Markus and I he hung his head in sorrow. I didn't know why he did that. My eyes though were soon fixed upon the army of ghosts that Aragorn was facing.

The ghosts were all men dressed in armour and carrying weapons. They were decaying, looking like walking corpses instead of men. Leading them was a ghost warrior wearing a crown.

'Release us,' he hissed at Aragorn.

'Bad idea,' I heard Gimli grunt. 'Very handy in a tight spot these lads, despite the fact they're dead.'

'You gave us your word,' the King of the Dead almost growled. He sounded as if he'd been in pain for a long time.

'I hold your oath fulfilled,' Aragorn told him. 'Go. Be at peace.'

At that moment the ghost all shared a face filled with peace and tranquillity. They smiled as a wind blew across the battlefield that carried the ghosts away. They faded into nothing as they were truly allowed to die.

Knowing that our new allies were gone now I turned on the spot slightly and saw an Orc banner planted in the ground. On its tattered black cloth I saw a crudely painted red eye. It looked so much like the one I saw in the Palantir that hung from the Basilica. Felling anger rise in me I raised my sword and struck at it, tearing apart the cloth. My foot smashed into the wooden pole it hung from and it fell to the ground.

'Never,' I said under my breath, remembering the vision. I would not let that happen.

'NO!'

A pained voice screeched across the silent battlefield. Every head snapped towards it and we saw Eomer holding the body of Eowyn in his arms. She was still as a statue as if dead.

'Good God no,' I said as I, Markus and Aragorn rushed towards them.

Aragorn reached her first and felt for a pulse.

'What's wrong with her?' I asked Aragorn.

'The Black Breath,' he answered. 'It's the curse of the Nazgul that infected her.'

'Can we save her?'

'We have to get her to the Houses of Healing,' Aragorn told me quickly. 'Eomer, let her go. We have to save her.'

Eomer looked down at his sister, sadness covering his face. He shakily nodded, trying to hold back his tears to show strength for his people. Two of the Royal Guard lifted Eowyn and they moved as fast as they could towards the city.

We heard a horn blast through the smoke filled air and we both turned to face Jason standing next to Robert and Gregory, holding the standard.

'ENGLISH COMPANY TOGETHER!' Jason shouted as loud as he could.

At one what was left of the company either walked or rode towards the standard. I saw the men I recognised. Edmund the Merchant on his white horse and wearing ornately carved armour with wings on the side of his helmet, Isaac Turner on foot, looking like one of the Rohirrim. Some blood smeared his sword. Everyone looked weary from the battle. In their eyes was a ghostly look as they stared at the thousands of men who lay dead. When we were all gathered around Robert on his horse.

'We have won the day men but not the war. Now we will see to our dead and make sure they receive the burial they deserve. John, Markus, you two will go into to city and find James. Tell him that I need to speak with him as soon as I can.'

'Yes Robert,' I answered him as my cousin and I walked towards the city.

As we walked through the city gates no one stopped us. We found the bodies of hundreds of Orcs littering the courtyard mixed with the bodies of Trolls. A few Gondorian soldiers were loading the dead onto carts but we didn't see many people.

'It must have been a massive fight,' I said to Markus as we walked through a breach in the barricade.

'I think you're right. Where do you think we'll find him?'

'We'll just ask some of the locals. They might know.'

That was easier said than done. Apart from the men in the courtyard we found no one. When we passed another barricade we found yet another troll dead in the streets. Also there were bodies of men on the ground but about ten of the bodies were not regular Gondorian soldiers. They were Citadel Guard. One of the bodies was an older man with long greying hair and some stubble on his face. Markus and I were about to walk on when my cousin ran towards a pile of rubble nearby. I followed him and saw him kneeling next to an Orc body.

'What's wrong?' I asked him.

Markus didn't say a word. Instead he grabbed the hilt of a sword that was stuck in the Orc and pulled it out. When I saw the blade I remembered the sword.

'Father,' Markus sobbed. 'He wouldn't have left this.'

'Where is he then?' I asked as I shook my head looking for him.

'MARKUS! JOHN!'

Rickard.

I saw my other cousin running towards us. He wasn't wearing his helmet and his armour was splattered with Orc blood. He ran towards us with open arms and then caught us both in a vice like hug.

'Thank God you're alive,' he said as a few tears leaked from his eyes. 'Thank God.'

'Rickard,' Markus looked at his brother with a stern stare, 'where's father?'

When he said that Rickard's shoulders slumped low and his head hung low. I only noticed then that his eyes were bloodshot.

'He's been hurt,' he answered. 'Badly. He's in the Houses of Healing now.'

Markus and I shared a look with each other and then the three of us were running towards the Houses of Healing. We quickly past Aragorn and the others.

'What happened?' Markus shouted as we ran.

'He was battling a Troll in the street. He killed it but it hurt him bad. When we realized he was missing Denethor and a captain named Beregond lead a company of the Citadel Guard down to the city and fought their way through to him. Denethor died buying time for him to get away.'

'Christ,' I cursed.

On the highest levels we found hundreds of people crammed into houses and inside tents. Not hundreds, thousands. All of them trapped together to stay away from the brutal battle. After a long run we made it to the Houses of Healing. It was overflowing with thousands of wounded and dying men. The screams. I will never forget them. When you've heard a man screaming in agony, knowing he was about to die, it scars your soul. It's something that once you hear it you can never forget. The air smelled of blood, boiled water and sharp medicines. As we walked through the crowded Houses of Healing I saw healers carrying out buckets filled with amputated limbs and others carrying tools for the job. The healers, with their aprons covered by blood, looked more like butchers than anything else.

'Where is he?' I asked Rickard.

'They gave him a private room at the back. Come on.'

We navigated our way around beds where hundreds of healers tended to the wounded. Eventually we found the door to my uncle's room and Rickard banged on the door. After a moment an angry looking healer threw the door open.

'What do you want?'

'How is my father?'

'Not good,' he answered. 'All the ribs on his left side are broken and the bones in his left arm below the elbow are shattered.'

'Will he live?' I asked desperately.

'I don't know. His arm may never recover. We'll have to amputate.'

'You'll do no such thing!' Markus shouted. 'You can't seriously want to cut off his arm!'

'I have no choice boy,' the Healer shouted and slammed the door shut.

None of us said anything for a moment. We just looked at each other. Rickard was the first to move. He turned around, faced the wall and slammed his fist into it. A few shards of rock were knocked off the wall but Rickard paid no mind. A young woman approached us and told us we had to leave. Markus was about to argue but I stopped him. We left the Houses of Healing and stood outside.

'What do we do?' I asked Markus.

He didn't say anything for a moment until he made his mind up.

'We go to Robert and tell him what's happened.'

'You don't know all of it,' Rickard told us, all the merriment gone from his voice like leaves in the autumn.

'What do you mean?'

'He took command in the battle,' Rickard answered. 'He lead us here and he invented the Hand Cannon.'

Instead of answering with a happy quip I shook my head.

'Let's go,' Markus said quietly as we left the city.

Outside the city we found what was left of the army that could still walk was digging pits for the mass graves. We found the English Company not far from where we last saw them. Laid out roughly where the company was digging a long trench were twenty two bodies. Planted in the ground was our standard. A little blood and dirt stained it and a few holes were cut in it. The English who fell in the battle. I shook my head when I saw them. When Robert saw us he quickly walked towards us.

'I see you survived Rickard,' the old knight said to my cousin and then looked at Markus. 'Where's James?'

'The Houses of Healing,' I answered him. 'They're going to amputate his arm.'

'Good God,' Robert said as he turned away from us. 'The poor man.'

'What can we do to help here?' I asked him, hoping to take my mind away from my uncle.

'Nothing. We've got enough men digging the graves. Although, we can't find that damn merchant. Can you find him?'

'Of course,' I answered.

I went alone looking for him. As I looked out across the fields I saw nothing but death. At last I found him where we fought the Haradrim Cavalry. He was crouching next to a body of a Haradrim.

'Edmund,' I said to get his attention.

'Ah John, I'm glad you turned up. You can help me with this.'

'With what?' I asked as I saw him examining a ring he pulled from one of the dead mens fingers. 'Why am I not surprised?'

'Well we need money John and these men aren't going to need their jewels again.'

'I know. I did the same once but I couldn't look at what I took again.'

'I'm not keeping this. I'm going to sell it.'

'Edmund, Robert was wondering where you were. I think you'd better get back to the rest of the company.'

Edmund sighed as he stood up from the body.

'Very well. Leave some of the good stuff for me. Oh wait.'

Edmund quickly crouched down and pulled a large scimitar from the ground. The hilt was golden and decorated with rubies.

'I think I'll keep this,' he said as he shaved it into his belt.

When we walked back to the English Company the pit for our dead had been dug and the dead had been placed inside it. One of the company had made a large wooden cross to mark the burial sight of our Company. Father Harold was there and I knew it was time for the funeral. I joined the company as Father Harold began the committals.

'For as much as it has pleased Almighty God to take out of this world the souls of Howard Moise, Nigs Hard, Robert Randull, Andrew Tyler, Albert Tyler, Daniel Ironsmith, David Smith, Stephan Goisfrid, Joseph Fendrel, Thomas Fendrel, Thomas Elyas, Allen Ranulph, Hugh Otes, Squire Arnold Waters, Count Philip of New Bride, Hamnet Hill, Jack Marshal, James Lowe, Arthur Peck, Donald Lavander, Jase Crow and Simon Langley, we therefore commit their bodies to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, looking for that blessed hope when the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord, wherefore comfort ye one another with these words.'

We had our heads bowed in respect for the dead as the grave began to be filled in. As we stood by the grave side I saw that around us the field was being cleared and the Orc bodies were being cremated on massive pyres. When the grave was filled in we departed to set up camp but all I could think of in my head was my uncle.

Father in heaven, please let him live.

AN: Okay I know this wasn't my best chapter yet but I hope liked it. After all, I'm not an evil lunatic who enjoys torturing you with rubbish.

Also, I tried to write a death scene for Denethor but I just couldn't. Sorry if anyone wanted him to have a cool death but I just couldn't write it. Sorry.

Review responses:

Kiya: Thanks for another review. I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I think that one of the main problems with fanfiction is that the reader knows what is going to happen, that's why I have a lot of respect for those writers who go completely AU. I suppose to keep it so the audience doesn't know what's going to happen is to write a fanfic sequel (Hint, hint).

Stephen King: Thanks a lot Steve. I love long reviews.

Halloween Servant: Thanks for the 10/10 opinion.

As ever, please review and I promise you that the next chapter will be better.

Have a nice day.