Disclaimer: The same old thing. When I own them I will let you know.

Things Worth Fighting For

Chapter 12

Lord Talon was enjoying how things had turned out for him. Not long ago, Prince Imrahil and his sons had gone to the White City with their knights, and the city of Dol Amroth was left to Imrahil's steward, Lord Alheon. While Princess Mariel played the role of Princess of Dol Amroth, she would not rule in Imrahil's absence, as she was only his daughter-in-law. Had Princess Irinya lived, she would have ruled the city when the prince was gone, but this task was now on the shoulders of Lord Alheon. When Elphir would one day succeed his father, Mariel would rule the city in his absence, but now she only worked closely with Alheon, and learned from him, and mostly the decisions were taken together. Had he wished it, Alheon could have ruled Dol Amroth without letting Mariel know anything about the decisions made, but Alheon was a close friend of the royal family, and he was not greedy or after the power that came with the position he had. He knew perfectly well that the young woman once in the future perhaps would have to rule the city for some time, and he wanted her to learn what she could.

Talon had been working very hard to convince everyone he was a friend and not a foe. Imrahil had not been hard. After all, their "friendship" had started before the Princess' disappearance, and Imrahil had apologised to Talon about his daughter's behaviour. The two youngest princes had been easy when Talon had first known what to do. Their open hatred for him after their sister ran away had made it easy for him to make a plan how to get them to understand he had not driven Lothíriel away. Erchirion had openly told him that Lothíriel was far too young for marriage, and that she instead should have lived her life in peace in Dol Amroth. This lead Talon to believe he did not want his sister married to anyone, so he had pushed the right buttons with the young prince, and had made him believe that when she returned, Lothíriel would have all the freedom she desired when they married. This had reassured Erchirion some, and in time Talon had managed to convince him that he was a better and more proper husband for Lothíriel than anyone else in Middle-earth, so Erchirion had started to accept that.

Amrothos had stated that his beloved sister ran away because the choice to choose her own husband had been taken away from her. But Talon had also managed to convince Amrothos that he was a better husband for Lothíriel than anyone else. Amrothos had also started being friendlier to Lord Talon, and had at last accepted that he would wed his sister, if she returned.

Prince Elphir had been the most difficult one of the princes, since Elphir was really a man of actions, and not words. He knew politics, he knew what would be required of him later in life when he would rule Dol Amroth, but that did not mean he had to like all the politics. He was a soldier, the heir of Prince Imrahil, yes, but he was a soldier who had defended his city from their enemies with the help of swords, not words. Later, when they met, it would strike Imrahil how much alike his son was the heir to the throne of Rohan, although Elphir had a lesser temper than Éomer of Rohan.

Talon knew talking would not help with Elphir, and Elphir had never expressed his feelings to Talon about his sister and her disappearance. So Talon would, for once, have to rely on action in stead of words. He had always been good at fooling people with his words. He often charmed people into trusting him, choosing his words carefully to have the result of the conversation to his benefit. He tried with the prince, but it did not work. It was only fortunate that he had overheard a conversation the prince had with his wife. Talon had heard him say that his sister should have been allowed to choose a husband, not have one chosen for her. He also said he would never allow her to marry a man such as Talon.

Elphir's exact words to his wife were: "I am happy she ran away instead of being forced to marry a man like him! I am sure he has never even held a sword! My sister would probably beat him if she would ever fight him. All the time Lothíriel has used on the training field, he probably used inside his home, making plans for how to be wed into one of Gondor's royal houses."

It annoyed Talon that Elphir had so accurately guessed what he had done with his time over the years. After he had become aware of the fact that Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth had a young daughter, he had waited for years for her to reach the age when she could be married. But when the girl was about 18, he heard rumours that her father had no intentions of forcing his daughter into a marriage she did not wish. So he used over a year thinking of a way to successfully have the princess to marry him. To win her heart, he knew, would fail before he had even started. He had been wondering about this when he heard about the death of Prince Imrahil's wife, and a plan had started to take form. So it had been three months later that he successfully had been promised the hand of the princess.

To win Elphir's trust, was something Talon was still working on. But he had started to build up his relationship with the Prince before he left for Minas Tirith. Mariel had taken Alphros to the docks, but there they had been attacked by a man who wanted money. How fortunate that Lord Talon had been nearby with his sword, ready to save the Princess and her son. Of course Prince Elphir had been very grateful and he was beginning to think that perhaps Lord Talon wasn't how he seemed. The goal was to get Elphir to believe Talon wasn't such a bad choice for his sister after all, but Talon had not reached it yet. But by saving the Prince's wife and son, he had made a good start.

If they only knew the man who attacked Princess Mariel and her son is one of my most trusted men! Talon thought with a smile.

Lord Alheon had watched Lord Talon suspiciously since his arrival. There was something strange about the young lord from Lebinnin. Something Alheon could not point out, yet he knew it to be true. But he could not accuse Lord Talon for something without any proof. And what could he accuse him for? Being the betrothed of Princess Lothíriel? That was hardly a cause to throw someone in the dungeons.

It was his daughter, Lady Valinea, Princess Lothíriel's best friend, who had first pointed out to him that there was something strange about the man. She also said it was no wonder Liriel had ran away, if she was forced to wed that man. He had asked her how she knew he was unsuited for the Princess to marry. She had looked at him and smiled. "Sometimes a woman knows these things, Ada. And I am telling you, he is not a man suited for Liriel to marry."

Arranged marriages were quite common amongst nobility in Gondor. Alheon knew Prince Elphir had been lucky to have wed a woman he loved, not one his father had found for him. He had always known that Imrahil would eventually arrange the marriages of his children, if they were not as lucky as Elphir and find love on their own. It had not come as a surprise for him that the Prince had arranged the marriage of his daughter; the only surprise had been how quick it happened. The same day Lord Talon had arrived Prince Imrahil had told his trusted friend and steward that he would have his daughter wed the young man. Alheon had said nothing, but he found it quite strange. Erchirion and Amrothos were older than Lothíriel, and both unwed, and yet Imrahil arranged her marriage before theirs. Of course the explanation could be simple. It could be that Imrahil wanted to find a man who could take care of his daughter, should things go bad with Imrahil and his sons in the war. Yet it was unlikely that Imrahil would simply arrange Lothíriel's marriage, without as much as even talk to her about it first.

It was not much Alheon could do. Lord Talon had done nothing wrong, the Princess had run away and the Prince and his sons had gone to war. The only thing Alheon could do was to keep an eye on Lord Talon.

Théoden had ordered them to stop in the Grey Wood, and had sent scouts ahead. They had been led to the Grey Wood by Ghân-buri-Ghân and the Wild Men. They had agreed to help Théoden, and all they wanted in return was for the Rohirrim to kill Orcs and drive them away. These Wild Men were not as those Saruman had ordered to attack the settlements in Westfold, although they were probably related. The Wild Men who Ghân-buri-Ghân was the leader of had no love for Orcs or Saruman any more than the Rohirrim, though it cannot be said the Wild Men had any great love for the Rohirrim either. Ghân-buri-Ghân had chosen to help King Théoden.

The King had now summoned the captains to council.

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

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

To this Théoden assented, and the captains departed. Éomer remained.

"I fear we will be too late to come to Denethor's aid," Théoden told his nephew. "Many days has passed since the beacons were lit, and Minas Tirith may already be fallen."

"Were the city fallen, Orcs would be making their way to Rohan now, and we would be in battle this very moment. No, I believe the White City still stands, my lord, though the battle is already begun, I think," Éomer said. "Need brooks no delay, yet late is better than never. And mayhap in this time shall the old saw be proved truer than ever before since men spoke with mouth."

Then Théoden smiled at the younger man. "I am so proud of you, Éomer. One day, if the Valar will it so, I know you will be a good king for our people. After Théodred's death, no other man would be worthy of his title, and I would give it to no other man except you."

"Thank you, uncle." Éomer did not know what else to say. It was good to know that his uncle had so much faith in him, though he was less certain he would be a good king, when and if that time came. He decided now was a good time to look after the scouts and see what they had to report.

Not long after, Éomer rode into the camp again to find Théoden. "The scouts report Minas Tirith is surrounded. There are great fires. The City is all set about with flame, and the field is full of foes. As far as they could tell, there are few left upon the out-wall, and they are heedless, busy in destruction."

"Now is the hour come," Gamling, who was standing next to the king, said.

Théoden agreed and he spoke to Éomer. "Éomer, my son! You lead the first éored, and it shall go behind the king's banner in the centre." Théoden turned to the other captains that had come to them, and were standing next to Éomer, who was still mounted on Firefoot. "Elfhelm, lead your company to the right when we pass the wall. And Grimbold shall lead his towards the left. Let the other companies follow these three that lead, as they have chance. Strike wherever the enemy gathers. Other plans we cannot make, for we know not yet how things stand upon the field. Forth now, and fear no darkness!"

The leading company rode off as swiftly as they could. When Éomer passed Liriel, where she was already mounted on Thalion, he motioned for her to ride next to him.

They came to halt once they came on the hill and looked upon the forces of Mordor. A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread.

Lothíriel felt a great weight of horror and doubt. The City was in flames! How long would her own city stand, if the White City would fall? How long would it be before Mordor attacked Dol Amroth and the other great cities of Gondor? How long would it be before the Dark Lord turned his eye north, to Rohan? Her heart was heavy of fear not for herself, but for her people, and for Éomer's people.

Then suddenly there was a change. Wind was in their faces! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

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

At that sound the king sat again tall and proud, and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

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

The host of Mordor for a moment stopped what they were doing and looked at the Rohirrim. The Commander of the Orcs had them ready for battle, but it was not without fear the Orcs from Mordor waited for the Rohirrim to attack, for they knew the riders would do just that.

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

"Ride to Gondor!" the Rohirrim cried in one voice and raised their swords.

The king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them. Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helmet floating in his speed. At his side rode Lothíriel, sword in hand and ready to defend her country.

The front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in battle of the Valar when the world was young.

Morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and the darkness was removed and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them.

And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

The Rohirrim was upon the Orcs like a great wave that was washing away the filth of Mordor. The Orcs had little chance against the Riders of Rohan, but the battle was not yet lost.

It was not long before all the northern half of the Pelennor was overrun; Orcs were flying towards the River like herds before the hunters.

Éomer raised his sword Gúthwinë in defence of both Rohan and Gondor on the fields of Pelennor. The steel was dark with Orc-blood, for many enemies had he slain, and the battle had not lasted long for the Rohirrim.

Lothíriel was not far from Éomer, but suddenly she found herself surrounded by Orcs. She did not hesitate to defend herself, although she knew she would have trouble defending herself against so many. Éomer had not seen that she had been cut off from him and the other Rohirrim, but one other had.

Lothíriel had no problem with the Orcs before her, but her problem was those behind her. She had no way of seeing them, and she was hard pressed on each side, so she could not turn her horse to fight those who attacked from behind. Amidst all the fighting she did not notice the attackers before it was too late. Some Orcs had attacked Thalion from behind, and the horse threw her. Lothíriel clutched her sword. If she lost it, it would be her death. She still had her sword, and for the moment she was still alive, but she was on her back and she was attacked by more Orcs than she could handle. She managed to kill one, but was barely able to keep the others away. It was when she heard someone cry out in Rohirric.

"Gefaran, earh nietens!"

Suddenly she had the room she needed to get to her feet, and she was again able to defend herself, even better now than when she was still mounted, since she now had no problem turning around to fight those behind her. The Rohirrim coming to her aid was still at horse, but she recognized him immediately. Halmod!

However during the battle was no time to think about Halmod coming to her rescue. She had to fight, and fight she did. She managed to get herself away from all the Orcs, killing them who were in the way. She looked around for Thalion, but he was nowhere to be seen. A great brown horse was near, and his saddle empty. Lothíriel managed to fight her way over to the horse, and mount. She then turned her way slightly to see Éomer ride away in a great haste. The knights of the household that still lived rode after him, but whatever had caught Éomer's attention had him ride in such haste, she knew none of the riders would be able to catch up with him.

Lothíriel spurred the horse round and galloped in their direction. She saw Éomer leap from the saddle and stop. He stood there still, looking down at whatever lay there. As Lothíriel came up to where the riders were, she stopped next to Éothain. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw who Éomer was staring down at.

Éomer could only look at the still form of his uncle. He could not speak, for he had no words, and no sound would come. Grief and dismay had fallen upon him, and he did not know what to do. The man, who was as dear to him as a father, was dead. The man who had thought him so much, whom he still needed to teach him so many things, was gone.

Gamling, whom also had seen Éomer ride in such haste, had also come. He dismounted and took the king's banner from the hand of Guthláf, the banner-bearer who lay dead, and lifted it up.

Slowly Théoden opened his eyes. Seeing the banner he made a sign that it should be given to Éomer. Gamling did so without hesitation, but he cast a sorrowful glance at the king. He respectfully stepped back.

"Hail, King of the Mark!" Théoden said. "Ride now to victory! Bid Éowyn farewell." And so he died.

Lothíriel felt tears stream down her face, and when she glanced at Éothain and the men around them, she could not see anyone who did not weep. The men then cried: "Théoden King! Théoden King!"

Lothíriel cried for the fallen king, a man she admired and respected. Her heart wept for the man she loved. She wished to go to him, but she could not trust her feet to carry her there.

The men cried, but Éomer said to them:

"Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,
meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,
women then shall weep. War now calls us!"

Yet he himself wept as he spoke. "Restan in freod, eam," he said softly, and no one heard him. He spoke louder then for the men to hear. "Let his knights remain here, and bear his body in honour from the field, lest the battle ride over it! Yea, and all these other of the king's men that lie here." And he looked at the slain, recalling their names.

When he first saw her, he could not believe it. It was not possible! Yet the figure was too small to be a rider, too slender to be a man. He knew what he saw. He knew her. Éomer knew it was his sister he saw. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. He let out a cry that broke the heart of every man there. He ran to where her still form lay, dropping his helmet and sword on the ground, and dropped himself on his knees next to her, cradling her to him, crying out "no", not believing it was the dead body of his sister he was holding.

Lothíriel cried even harder. She could not move. Only to watch him in so much grief pained her. Beside her, Éothain had taken off his helmet and was holding his hands before his eyes, trying to stop crying. Those who watched their young king was crying, for they knew that she was the last of his family, and Éowyn had been deeply loved by the people.

"Éowyn! Éowyn!" Éomer cried. "Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!"

He gently laid her down and gently kissed her brow one last time, before he rose, turned and grabbed his helmet and sword, and mounted Firefoot. Then without taking counsel or waiting for the approach of the men of the City, he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"

And with that the host began to move. But the Rohirrim sang no more. Death they cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept about their fallen king and passed, roaring after southwards.

It was like Éomer's mood had passed to his riders, for all, even Lothíriel, was full of fury and rage, and just wanted to kill.

And now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor and the din of arms rose upon high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses. Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the mûmakil were bellowing as they were goaded to war. Under the south walls of the City the footmen of Gondor now drove against the legions of Morgul that were still gathering their strength. But the horsemen rode eastward to the succour of Éomer: Húrin the Tall, Warden of the Keys, and the Lord of Lossarnach, and Hirluin of the Green Hills, and Prince Imrahil the fair with his knights all about him.

The múmakil and the Haradrim seemed determined to see the Rohirrim crushed under the great beasts. Many died under the great animals. However Éomer refused to run from them. As far as he was concerned, it did not matter whether he lived or died. All that counted was how many of the enemy he managed to get rid off.

Éomer threw his spear in the chest of the man guiding the great beast, and the man fell, still holding the reins and the beast seemed to be dragged down by the weight of the man, and the beast walked right into another, and they both fell over.

A great victory it should be, as no one else had managed to kill one of the mûmakil, however the new king felt nothing over this.

But more of the great beasts came, and the horses would not go near them.

The horsemen from the City now came, and not too soon came their aid to the Rohirrim; for fortune had turned against Éomer, and his fury had betrayed him. The great wrath of his onset had utterly overthrown the front of his enemies, and great wedges of his Riders had passed clear through the ranks of Southrons, discomfiting their horsemen and riding their footmen to ruin. The mûmakil were many and difficult to kill.

And if the Rohirrim at their onset were thrice outnumbered by the Haradrim alone, soon their case became worse; for new strength came now streaming to the field out of Osgiliath. There they had been mustered for the sack of the City and the rape of Gondor, waiting on the call of their Captain. He now was destroyed; but Gothmog the lieutenant of Morgul had flung them into the fray. Some hastened behind the Rohirrim, others held westward to hold off the forces of Gondor and prevent their joining with Rohan.

And it seemed to only become worse. Men shouted: "The Corsairs of Umbar! The Corsairs of Umbar! Look! The Corsairs of Umbar are coming! So Belfalas is taken, and the Ethir, and Lebinnin is gone. The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!"

Some without order ran to the bells and tolled the alarm; and some blew the trumpets sounding the retreat.

The Rohirrim indeed had no need of news or alarm. All too well they could see for themselves the black sails. For Éomer was now scarcely a mile from the Harlond, and a great press of his first foes was between him and the haven there, while new foes came swirling behind, cutting him off from the Prince. Now he looked to the River, and hope died in his heart, and the wind that sped the ships he called accursed. But the hosts of Mordor were enheartened, and filled with a new lust and fury they came yelling to the onset.

Stern now was Éomer's mood, and his mind clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight there on foot till all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark. So he rode to a green hillock and there set his banner, and the White Horse ran rippling in the wind.

Éomer turned slightly and his eyes found Lothíriel's. She looked at him with such strength and determination that this was what they should do. She knew the words she had spoken to him at Dunharrow were now about to be true. If we die, we will die together. He also knew it. He loved her. He loved her, and now they both were about to die. Éomer's thoughts were that all the people he loved would be dead after this battle. His uncle, his sister, and the woman he loved. They would all die. Lothíriel was grateful she had come, for whether she was here or had remained in Rohan; she knew she would die this day if Éomer fell. At least they were together, and that was a comfort.

She made no sound when she silently told him she loved him. He smiled sadly and told her he loved her too.

Éomer turned away from her, looking at the River and the ships that were now not far away.

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's ending I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall"

These staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was on him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people. Even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and lifted up his sword to defy them.

And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. Lothíriel and the men now saw what he saw. Off the ships came not another foe to worry about, but thirty Rangers of the North, the sons of Elrond, the Elf Legolas and Dwarf Gimli, and behind them the Army of the Dead, but before them all came Aragorn son of Arathorn, and thus it was that the tide of the battle turned.

East rode the knights of Dol Amroth driving the enemy before them. South rode Éomer and men fled before his face, and they were caught between the hammer and the anvil. For now the Army of the Dead came from the River, with the Rangers and men of Lebinnin and Lamedon and the fiefs of the South.

Lothíriel did not know, but in the heat of battle she met Gothmog, the lieutenant of Morgul, and she detached his head from his body.

The hosts of Mordor were defeated, but the war was not yet won, and much grief and pain were yet to be found after the battle on the fields of Pelennor.

Translations:

Gefaran, earh nietens! – Die, cowardly beasts!
Restan in freod, eam – Rest in peace, uncle

Replies:

lady scribe of avandell: Ah, thank you so much! I was really hoping this book/movie thing worked, and apparently it did! And wishing to have me with pj when he was writing the script is like one of the biggest compliments anyone can get! I feel like I'm flying! Ah… Thank you!

Lady Anck-su-namun: Have no fear! There will be more about Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas and the whole thing about kissing a man, though it will be a while. Can't exactly have Gimli asking Éomer about that when he's such a mess about his uncle and sister, now can we? Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Haldir's Heart and Soul: She did kill the good lieutenant of Morgul, and she killed very many Orcs, so I hope it was action enough. If it wasn't, I promise there'll be more fighting for Lothíriel later.

GypsySwordGodess: Oh, yes, we all wish to be Liriel. At least until I write something very depressive… ups, did I say too much? And it's good to know that you like the story. It feels great to know that I'm appreciated for my work. And as for keep rocking to Nightwish… well, I'm the biggest Nightwish fan in the world, so nothing would keep me from doing that!

skinnyrita: Well, I think it's more point for me learning English than for you learning Norwegian. After all, Norwegian is a language only spoken by us people up in this small country while English is used in most of the world. Who's plotting to take over Gondor? Hm… well, I suppose you'll just have to wait and see. For a good while, I'm afraid, but I will get there eventually. Thank you for reviewing!

Jen: Hahahahaha! You really shouldn't have been drinking when you read that! But I suppose you'll learn after this, won't you? Um… maybe I should start posting warnings… "Please don't drink anything during this chapter. Danger of having your drink coming out through your nose." Do you think that would help? Maybe I should start doing that. Thanks for the review!

Many wanted me to update soon, but I'm afraid my mind was not working with my wishes. I suddenly found myself with no ideas as to how to continue from the last chapter to this. Thank God for Tolkien and the very large book I have in my room! And thank God it's on English!

Well, I'll just wish you a still Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!