Intara rode behind Aragorn who was newly bedecked in the colors of Gondor. He wore new armor, the white tree of Gondor spread across his strong chest, and he sat tall in the saddle, beneath which was a fresh war horse. For the first time, she noticed how long his hair had gotten since the beginning of their journey so many months before in Bree. No longer did he look like Strider, the ragged Ranger. He looked like the King he was born to be. Intara's chest swelled with pride knowing that he would do their families proud by taking on his destiny even if she could not have hers.
Legolas and Gimli were to her right and behind her rode Eomer, with Merry behind him, dressed as a squire of Rohan. Merry had proven himself in battle by helping Eowyn during her fight with the witch king. Pippin was with Gandalf. Gandalf was a small dot of white in a long line of navy, green and black. Pippin was riding in front of him dressed as a guard of the citadel. Pippin had also acted valiantly in battle and had helped save Faramir from his father's dementia. The little hobbits were oddly silent as the army moved into battle. Intara looked dull and out of place in the procession towards the black gates. It was how she wanted it.
Black pennants stirred in the breeze as the army of men marched for Mordor. Something in her made her look back at Minas Tirith, the great white citadel sitting tall at the base of the mountains. It truly was a site to behold.
Rumil's words sounded in her mind and she decided that when everything was done, she would return to Minas Tirith and spend some time there instead of moving on right away. Perhaps she'd be able to find some of the rest and peace that had eluded her for so long within the cities high walls.
Late that night, Intara sat beside a small fire sharpening her sword to a razor's edge. She gazed into the fire and paid little attention to the task. She'd done it so many times, she thought she could probably do it in her sleep. She was deep in thought when a shadow entered the ring of light. She glanced up momentarily and saw Legolas standing on the opposite side of the fire from her.
"You hope to die tomorrow." It was not a question.
"I always hope to die. I hope that my purpose shall be fulfilled and I will be granted my peace." Intara answered as she flicked her finger against the edge of her sword.
"And if your time is not to end on the morrow?"
"Then I will go on, as I have done for many a year now."
"You do not have to go it alone." The only sound was the faint rasping of stone on blade and an occasional 'pop' from the fire.
"I am not at liberty to accept someone into my life, Prince of Mirkwood." She said as she flicked her thumb across the blade again. "My kind of life doesn't leave room for another."
"And your kind of life is?"
"One of darkness; one of anger." Intara's face took on a gruesome appearance in the fire. "Death follows me but never visits, Legolas. I am a weary traveler and I desire peace."
"I believe, that of any here…you deserve it." Legolas said with a bow. "May you find glory in battle tomorrow."
"You as well." Intara watched as the elf backed away from her circle of fire.
She hoped that she found more than glory in the coming battle.
The army commanded by Aragorn assembled before the gate, covering the hill and extending back the way they came.
"So how do we draw them out?" Pippin asked. "It isn't as if we could just march ourselves up to the gate and invite ourselves in for tea."
"That's exactly what we're going to do." Aragorn said. He nudged his horse forward and was followed by Gandalf and Pippin, Legolas and Gimli, and Eomer and Merry. Intara felt no need to get that close to Mordor. She would wait behind and be ready for whatever was going to happen.
Aragorn's voice echoed off the gate and carried across the plain to where Intara sat with the rest of the army. There was no reply but the heavy gate made a groaning sound and slowly it swung open, grating against the rock beneath it. As the opening widened, the challengers moved back and quickly took up their places in the ranks with the others. Aragorn turned his horse and rode along the ranks of men calling to them as they shifted uneasily. All of them were focused on the gate, and their first view of Mordor. A great black mass of orc and cave trolls---of all the evil of Middle Earth---flooded towards them through that opening.
"Hold your ground, hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" Aragorn shouted. He made a pretty speech that Intara did not listen to. She stared at the lead of the army advancing on them. It was more terrifying seeing this army move towards her than the army had been at the Hornburg. Bathed in the reds and oranges of the fires of mount doom, the army advancing on them was cast in eerie shadows. Her heart shuddered in her chest as the cadence was beat out by the cave trolls.
Intara brought her gaze back to Aragorn as he stood right before her. "This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you STAND MEN OF THE WEST!"
They watched as the orcs continued to pour out of the gates and surrounded the men in the valley. Intara was uneasy and looked to Aragorn as his eyes swept the battlefield. The air grew still around them as they all took in a collective breath, preparing for the battle ahead.
A fell voice filled the air around them. Aragorn stepped forward as if listening to it. Intara shook her head. She could see Sauron in her mind, heard his voice. The great eye seemed to blink at her and she heard a dark laughter. She banished the vision and looked to where Aragorn turned to face them.
He looked to the remaining members of the fellowship, looking each of them in the eye and then turned his gaze on the rest of the combatants behind them. Then he whispered a single phrase.
"For Frodo."
He charged forth alone. Merry and Pippin were next followed by Gandalf. Intara drew her sword and rushed into the fray behind them.
It was by far one of the most intense battles Intara had ever found herself in. She decapitated one of the orcs in front of her and picked up a shield one of the Rohirrim had dropped. A large orc with a club bashed at her repeatedly, denting the shield on her arm. She swung back trying to batter the creature down, but it was too large. She hacked at its knee and then looked up to see an arrow protruding from it's forehead. The creature pitched backwards and fell dead. Intara threw down her destroyed shield and turned to see Legolas fighting on, his arrows finding their targets with ease. She caught his gaze and nodded before moving on.
Intara was drenched in sweat. It trickled in a sticky river down her back and matted her hair to her head beneath her helmet. Her arm was growing tired and her leg stiff.
She was knocked off her feet and thrown backwards, her helmet flying off. She hacked up into the orc with her sword and turned her head sideways as blood splattered across her face. She rose and let the wind pick up a few strands of her hair. She needed a break, but knew that she'd never find one in the melee. She swung up into an orc that ran past her and watched disgustedly as it writhed on the ground at her feet. She stomped on its face with one of her heavy boots and felt the creature's beak like nose crumble beneath the heel. She moved on.
A nazgul descended from the sky and made as if to pick up several of the men. Intara shouted a warning, but she didn't dare to hope that her voice would be heard above the cacophony of battle.
"The Eagles!" Pippin's voice sounded to her right and she turned to see the hobbit looking up into the sky. "The Eagles are coming!" And sure enough, a great shadow passed over the army and a huge eagle dug it's talons into the nazgul, keeping it away from the army. Intara looked back down to the fight at hand and saw Legolas rushing across the field to the carcass of a cave troll as it fell atop Gimli. Gandalf was defending himself with sword and staff, as the only figure clad in white, he was easy to spot. The hobbits were not to be seen in the melee as most of the combatants were taller than them.
Aragorn was also easy to spot in the commotion. His new garb gleamed in the sulfurous glow emitted from Mordor. His sword, Anduril, the blade that was remade from the shards of Narsil, seemed to glow with the magic the elves had worked into it. He fought with a grim determination against any creature that came into his reach. But that was not what truly caught Intara's attention.
It was the crimson lining of his cape.
A crimson lining that matched Haldir's cape.
Intara looked to where he was fighting two different orcs. She gazed across the battlefield and saw another orc rushing towards the fight. A fourth was knocking Rohirrim out of its way to clear a shot with a heavy bow.
She took it all in simultaneously. The din of battle roared around her and she knew that no matter how she shouted, no one would hear it.
She started to run, shoving everyone and everything out of her way. She dashed across the battlefield with all the speed she could muster. Aragorn beheaded one of the orcs he was fighting and turned his attention to the other. Intara didn't pay much attention though and continued her blind run across the battlefield, keeping one eye on the orc coming up behind Aragorn. She bashed the skull of an orc in as she rushed by him, shocking the Gondorian he was fighting. Intara was focused on the orc running at Aragorn, but a quick glance told her that even if she succeeded in preventing that orc from getting to Aragorn, the one with the bow was not going to fail. She only had one chance.
"Sometimes, victory for all must mean a suicidal act by one."
The thought tripped through her head as she barreled across the battlefield. She glanced over her shoulder to where the orc with the bow knelt and saw him release the arrow. She launched herself into the air, lowered her shoulder and bowled into Aragorn.
Aragorn landed on the ground, nearly dropping his sword, and wondered what had just happened. The world seemed to move in slow motion as he looked back to where he'd been standing moments before. Intara, still airborn, was bringing her blade into the neck of the orc that had been ready to kill him, it's huge, hooked blade held high above its gnarled head. The orc's blade came down into Intara's side, piercing the light weight armor and cutting into the flesh beneath the mail. Her body arched back as a huge black arrow pierced through her chest plate and she fell into the dust beside him.