Disclaimer: You should know this one by now. If you don't then I suggest you find out who wrote the books.

Things Worth Fighting For

Chapter 15

"Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell."

Song taken from the Lord of the Rings

Lothíriel had been very busy the following day. She still had her armour and weapons, so that was no problem. She had hidden them in an old part of the palace so no one could find them. She had made plans for how to join the Rohirrim without being discovered. She had also collected her saddle and gear from Thalion that night, a few hours before the sun rose. Halmod had helped her with that. To see her trusted companion again had been hard, but she needed to do it. He had been with her for so long that it was difficult to accept that he would not be with her anymore. He had been a gift from her father and mother, for her 15th birthday.

Lothíriel did not want a replacement for Thalion, but she did need a horse. It was not an option to walk to Mordor. Many of the Rohirrim had lost their horses, but she could not walk amongst them. She was perhaps lighter, but they were physical stronger than her. She would have a hard time to keep up with them. No, she needed a horse. The question was how she would get one.

When she was walking in the stables, she recognized Faramir's horse. Though weary of battle, the horse was in a fine shape, and he could make it to Mordor. She was not sure he was as good as Thalion, and she knew he could not match a Rohirric horse, but he was exactly what she needed.

Faramir was barely awake when she came to visit him. She told him to sleep, and she said that he did not have to worry about his horse. She would take care of him. When he was better and did not find the horse in the stables, she would worry about later. If she ever returned to Minas Tirith, though that was not certain she would.

Lothíriel knew perfectly well that perhaps she would not return from Mordor. It was a possibility that she would fall on that battlefield, and no one would ever know. But she had to do it. She could not let her father and brothers go to war alone, and she could not live if something happened to Éomer, and she could do nothing about it. If he died, and she had never told him how sorry she was… she would never forgive herself. Even now she would never forgive herself for the lies spoken, the deeds done and angry words shouted. So much time lost, perhaps never to have again. Could she win Éomer back if they made it through this last battle? She would try, but she had not forgotten his stubbornness. She had to make him forgive her. She only hoped she could.

Two days after the decision to go to Mordor had been made; the army of the West was all assembled on the Pelennor.

Lothíriel had said her farewells to her father and brothers in their rooms in the Steward's house, saying she had no wish to see them or the army of the West when they left the White City for perhaps never to return. Of course that was only a cover so she could prepare herself for the journey. Not long after she was wearing her armour and mounted on her cousin's horse. She made sure she was behind Éomer's éored. The éored she ended up riding with was under command of Marshal Erkenbrand. She did not know him personally from her time in Rohan, but she knew his reputation. He was one of the finest riders who ever served the King of Rohan, and as he served Théoden he would serve the new king. The éored was not only behind Éomer's own éored, but it was also away from the knights of Dol Amroth, so she did not have to fear her father or her brothers to find her.

Éomer had bid his sister farewell in the Houses of Healing. Éowyn was still not well enough to be up very long.

Éomer rode ahead of the army with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Imrahil. The Hobbits, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck would also be going to Mordor. Pippin would be riding with Gandalf on Shadowfax, and Éomer had agreed to take Merry on Firefoot. He hated to admit it, but Merry had actually done well in the battle, and he had aided his sister. He had been a squire to Théoden, and because of that and that he had helped his sister during the battle of Pelennor, Éomer had agreed that he would take the Hobbit.

At last the trumpets rang and the army began to move. Troop by troop, and company by company, they wheeled and went off eastward. Ere noon the army came to Osgiliath.

The vanguard passed on through the ruins of Old Gondor, and over the wide River, and on up the long straight road that in the high days had been made to run from the fair Tower of the Sun to the tall Tower of the Moon, which now was Minas Morgul in its accursed vale. Five miles beyond Osgiliath they halted, ending their first day's march.

But the horsemen pressed on and ere evening they came to the Cross-roads and the great ring of trees, and all was silent. No sign of any enemy had been seen, no cry or call had been heard, no shaft had sped from rock or thicket by the way, yet ever as they went forward they felt the watchfulness of the land increase. Tree and stone, blade and leaf were listening. The darkness had been dispelled, and far away westward sunset was on the Vale of Anduin, and the white peaks of the mountains blushed in the blue air; but a shadow and a gloom brooded upon the Ephel Dúath.

The day after, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross-roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ephel Dúath clambered up.

At nightfall of the fifth day of the march from Morgul Vale they made their last camp, and set fires about it of such dead wood and heath as they could find.

Lothíriel had been careful to avoid those she knew amongst the company. She had not crossed paths with Imrahil, her brothers, any of the Rohirrim she knew or Éomer. Of course she knew that if she did not continue to be careful, her luck could soon turn.

Aragorn had called the captains to a last meeting before the battle. What waited them in the morning, none knew, but they all very well knew this could be their last night to live. What hope was there, if any, for them to win this battle?

They talked about strategies and plans for the battle, but none knew what to expect. Eventually the talk turned to other things, though the subjects discussed often had something to do with the war they were in.

"At least I will not be there to see if Dol Amroth falls," Erchirion said.

"It is hardly comforting," Elphir mumbled. "I would hate to see our city fall, though I would hate it even more for Mariel and Alphros to…" He hated that he had to leave his wife and son alone in Dol Amroth. He was not near them to protect them.

"Do not worry," his father told him. "Talon is there. He will protect them if it becomes necessary."

Elphir said nothing, but he could not help but think that perhaps his wife and son were safer on their own than with Talon.

"Do not think about it," Amrothos said. "Lord Alheon will take care of them, and Mariel have Valinea to talk to. They will be fine." Of course he feared for Dol Amroth, but he feared for Valinea perhaps as much as Elphir feared for Mariel.

"No need to worry, lads," Gimli said while he sat on a small chair with his pipe. "Tomorrow we'll destroy him and his great tower and save all of Middle-earth, including your wife, Prince Elphir, and the lass of yours, Prince Amrothos."

Amrothos stared at him with his mouth open. "What? Who?"

"This Valina girl or whatever you called her," Gimli answered.

"Amrothos and Valinea?" Erchirion laughed. "I am sorry to inform you, Master Gimli, that our dear brother is far too shy to talk to any girl, and especially Valinea. She is too much for our baby brother to handle."

Amrothos was bright red in his face, though almost all thought it was of embarrassment.

"Erchirion, leave your brother alone," Imrahil said sternly.

"Yes, Ada," Erchirion said with an evil grin.

Aragorn took a seat next to Éomer, who had been sitting alone in a corner of the tent since they ceased to discuss things that had something to do with the oncoming battle. "How are you, my friend?" Aragorn asked, having noticed how the younger man had closed himself off from any of the conversations that was taking place.

"I am fine," Éomer answered, taking his eyes from Amrothos who was trying to tell Erchirion he was not shy around the fairer sex, but of course the older Prince did not listen. Amrothos reminded Éomer a little of Lothíriel, though the Prince seemed somewhat shyer than his sister.

Aragorn was not entirely certain he believed Éomer when he said he was fine, but he decided not to ask any further questions. "How fare the Rohirrim this night?"

"As good as the Gondorian soldiers and Knights of Dol Amroth I would think. It is the waiting that is hard on them," Éomer said.

"I suppose that is the way for all the soldiers, Rohirric as well as Gondorian," Aragorn said.

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Éomer said.

Aragorn sighed. He was getting nowhere with this. His instinct told him that something was bothering his friend, but Éomer would never admit anything. And of course Aragorn was troubled by his own thoughts. Thoughts of Gondor, his kingship, the oncoming battle and of course his thoughts turned often to what he had left behind in Rivendell when he left. Arwen.

Éomer left before long time had passed. Amrothos also left, having grown tired of trying to convince Erchirion that he was not shy around Valinea.

"Brothers," Amrothos muttered under his breath.

"Are you talking of brothers in general or one specific?" Éomer asked. "If you are talking of brothers in general I think I may take offence of that."

Amrothos grinned. "Then I would have to take offence of that myself would I not?" he shook his head. "Nay, I only speak of Erchirion, who can be a very annoying brother at times. Older brothers can be cruel."

"Now I think I take offence of that," Éomer said.

"We never know how bad we are until experiencing an older brother for ourselves, I tell you my friend. We are the worst creatures there is," Amrothos said. "I think you should praise yourself lucky you have no siblings older than you. According to Ada, older sisters are just as bad."

"I grew up with my cousin. I swear it was not easy at times," Éomer said.

Amrothos nodded. "Cousins, older brothers, it's all the same."

"Now I think you are insulting both me and yourself. But grant me this favour and never speak like this in front of my sister. I swear I will never hear the end of it," Éomer said.

"Only if you swear never to say anything to my sister as well," Amrothos said.

Of course he should have expected the mention of Lothíriel at some point, but he was still taken by surprise. It was ironic. The woman he could not get out of his mind, he could not bear to hear her being spoken of. He managed to nod and they continued walking towards their tents.

"So who is this Valinea?" Éomer asked. Amrothos stopped dead in his tracks. "Do not think it went by unnoticed. Perhaps the others thought nothing of it, but I know there is more to it than you pretend it is."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Amrothos said.

"Of course you don't," Éomer said. I wonder who is the most stubborn, you or your sister. How Lothíriel managed to invade his thoughts at all times he would never understand. "Trust me, Amrothos; you better confess your feelings for her before it is too late." And with that he left him alone.

It grew cold. As morning came the wind began to stir again, but now it came from the North, and soon it freshened to a rising breeze.

The land seemed empty, though they knew it was all but empty. North amid their noisome pits lay the first of the great heaps and hills of slag and broken rock and blasted earth, the vomit of the maggot-folk of Mordor; but south and now near loomed the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor, and the Black Gate amidmost, and the two Towers of the Teeth tall and dark upon either side. For in their last march the Captains had turned away from the old road as it bent east, and avoided the peril of the lurking hills, and so now they were approaching the Morannon from the north-west.

The two vast iron doors of the Black Gate under its frowning arch were fast closed. Upon the battlement nothing could be seen. All was silent but watchful. They were come to the last end of their folly, and stood forlorn and chill in the grey light of early day before towers and walls which their army could not assault with hope, not even if it had brought their thither engines of great power, and the Enemy had no more force than would suffice for the manning of the gate and wall alone.

Yet they knew that all the hills and rocks about the Morannon were filled with hidden foes, and the shadowy defile beyond was bored and tunnelled by teeming broods of evil things. And as they stood they saw all the Nazgûl gathered together, hovering above the Towers of the Teeth like vultures; and they knew that they were watched.

But still the Enemy made no sign.

Éomer felt as if all his men were watching him, looking to him for hope. But he had no hope to give them. It was as he had said to Aragorn when they first met on the plains of Rohan. He had told him not to trust to hope. That it had forsaken these lands. It had forsaken Rohan, Gondor and all free lands of Middle-earth. What hope did they have for victory? What hope were there left? What hope for those left behind?

No hope. No hope for them, and no hope for those behind. He could not give his men the hope they needed. No choice was left them but to play their part to its end.

Aragorn set the host in such array as could best be contrived; and they were drawn up on two great hills of blasted stone and earth that Orcs had piled in year of labour. Before them towards Mordor lay like a moat of great mire of reeking mud and foul-smelling pools. When all was ordered, the Captains rode forth towards the Black Gate with a great guard of horsemen and the banner and the heralds and trumpeters. There was Gandalf as chief herald, and Aragorn with the sons of Elrond, and Éomer of Rohan, and Imrahil; and Legolas and Gimli and Peregrin and Meriadoc were bidden to go also, so that all the enemies of Mordor should have a witness.

Lothíriel felt her heart pounding through her armour as she saw Éomer and her father ride forth. She had carefully made sure she was in the front line of Rohirrim, so she could better see what was going on.

They came within cry of the Morannon, and unfolded the banner, and blew upon their trumpets; and the heralds stood out and sent their voices up over the battlement of Mordor.

"Come forth!" they cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

Silence. Not a sound was heard. When they were about to turn away, the silence were broken suddenly. There came a long rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones of the Black Gate was thrown upon with a great clang, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower.

It was like everyone around her stopped breathing. Lothíriel could only stare at the tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dúr he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: "I am the Mouth of Sauron." But it is told that he was a renegade, who came of the race of those that are named the Black Númenóneans; for they established their dwellings in Middle-earth during the years of Sauron's domination, and they worshipped him, being enamoured of evil knowledge. And he entered the service of the Dark Tower when it first rose again, and because of his cunning he grew ever higher in the Lord's favour; and he learned great sorcery, and knew much of the mind of Sauron; and he was more cruel than any Orc.

He it was that now rode out, and with him came only a small company of black-harnessed soldiery, and a single banner, black but bearing on it in red the Evil Eye. Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this. Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following."

Aragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other's eye and held it. To Éomer it seemed like a battle were fought between the two. Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, but the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!" he cried.

"Where such laws hold it is also the custom for ambassadors to use less insolence. But no one has threatened you. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, then with all his servants you will be in great peril," Gandalf said.

The Messenger laughed. "So, thou art the spokesman, old greybeard? We know of thee, Master Gandalf. Indeed we know all who follow thee. This time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf; and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee – to thee in especial, if thou shouldst dare to come." He signed to one of his guards, and he came forward bearing a bundle of swathed in black cloths.

Éomer felt as if he was the one who understood least of the importance of the items shown to them. A short sword that was too small to belong to any man. Next the Messenger showed them a grey cloak with an elven-brooch. It was similar to the cloaks Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn wore when he met them in Rohan. Last was the mithril-mail, though Éomer did not know exactly what it was. But he knew this could only mean one thing. Their last hope was gone.

Pippin who stood behind Prince Imrahil sprang forward with a cry of grief, and Merry who stood behind Éomer would have followed him, had not Éomer grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. Merry stared up at him with tears in his eyes, pleading him to let go. "Stay where you are, Merry," Éomer said quietly.

Gandalf had ordered Pippin to keep silent and thrusting him back, but the Messenger had noticed and now laughed aloud.

"So you have yet more of these imps with you!" he cried. "What use you find in them I cannot guess; but to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond even your accustomed folly."

Éomer heard all the Mouth of Sauron and Gandalf said to each other, but not all were worth to remember. When the day was over he would find very little worth remembering.

Gandalf took the tokens from the Mouth of Sauron, and the servant of Sauron laughed no more. He gave a great cry, and turned, leaped upon his steed, and with his company galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. But as they went his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.

Drums rolled and fires leaped up. The great doors of the Black Gate swung back wide. Out of it streamed a great host as swiftly as swirling waters when a sluice is lifted.

Lothíriel was about to ride forth when the Captains mounted again and rode back. Not even the Battles of Helm's Deep and Pelennor put together could compare to this. When Éomer rode over to the Rohirrim, he passed her and unknowingly she did as Éowyn had done when Théoden passed her before they charged the foe on the fields of Pelennor; she turned away and hid her face.

Upon one hill Aragorn stood with Gandalf, and there fair and desperate was raised the banner of the Tree and Stars. Upon the other hill hard by stood the banners of Rohan and Dol Amroth, White Horse and Silver Swan.

The wind blew, and the trumpets sang, and arrows whined; but the sun now climbed towards the South as veiled in the reeks of Mordor, and through a threatening haze it gleamed, remote, a sullen red, as if it were the ending of the day, or the end maybe of all the world of light. And out of the gathering mirk the Nazgûl came with their cold voices crying words of death; and then all hope was quenched.

At Helm's Deep and Pelennor they had been outnumbered, but still they had won. Now, Éomer knew they would fall. They were outnumbered this time as well, but the difference was that they had attacked. It was not the other way around. They were not the defenders this time. Éomer thanked the Valar that Éowyn was not there. He had almost lost her once. He could not lose her again.

He killed foe after foe, Gúthwinë was covered in Orc-blood. Many lives the blade had taken, and many more would it take.

Suddenly he stopped. His eyes saw something his brain worked furiously to understand. He knew the movements so well. The way the sword was used, the footwork, everything. He knew who it was, but he refused to admit it.

What is she doing here?

Suddenly he was back in the presence. Orcs were cutting him off from the others, attacking him from all sides. His moves were not desperate, even though he knew that any moment a blow could come from behind and he would be dead. He fought and fought, trying to get away.

Lothíriel saw what happened. Éomer was surrounded, he had no escape. Furiously she fought her way towards him. She knew it was her fault. He had seen her and lost his concentration. Because of her he might die! She fought against enemies and time. She had to reach him before it was too late.

This is the author speaking: I'm back, and I'm more evil than ever! I'm cutting the chapter here. Sorry guys, but I just have to. I warned you: I'm evil!

I liked the idea of Merry being at the Black Gate, so I brought him along. Hope no one's too mad at that.

Now to the replies…

lady scribe of avandell: She's a messy girl, making a mess wherever she goes, and Mordor is no exception. Of course she's making it worse. But it can only go two ways from here: right up or right down. Ha ha! Well, thanks for the review!

starnat: I like his stubbornness, and hers too. I'm pretty stubborn myself, so I guess it's a bit of me in the characters, especially Lothíriel. But she's pretty, while I look like a troll, so I assure you it's only the personality;-p I also like her going to Mordor for the battle, but is it the final battle? You'll see. Hope this chapter lived up to the expectations.

Lady Anck-su-namun: Yup, she has a great spirit. I love it too! Ha ha, I wrote her and her spirit! Yahoo! Sorry, I'm in a very happy mood. A bit mischievous, actually. And Halmod is pretty cool. I wrote him too! Oh, I better get on with the replies. Thanks for reviewing.

wondereye: They haven't exactly crossed paths yet, but you see it's coming! Yay! I hope this chapter was great too! Thanks for leaving a review!

skinnyrita: You know how it is. School's being a bitch again, with tests and papers and everything, but I'm trying to update as soon as I can. And here's the dilemma: will Lothíriel save Éomer, or will he find away out of it himself? We know he doesn't die, so I won't even bother trying to tell you he does. Besides, I would never kill Éomer! But how will he get himself out of this one? Indeed, what will happen?

georgeharrison1: Glad you liked it! I hope this chapter lives up to the expectations. Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.