The Rohirrim Return to Save the Day and Denethor Falls Into a Burning Ring of Fire
After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure...
--Albus Dumbledore
15 March 3019, of the Third Age
25 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
"Take them down!" Gandalf was shouting. "Fight! Fight to the last man. Fight for your lives!"
"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Pippin was sprinting faster than I had ever seen and I picked up my own garb and ran to him. "Denethor has lost his mind!" He was screaming desperately. "He's burning Faramir alive!"
"Up, quickly!" Gandalf cried, horrified, lifting us onto Shadowfax and taking off.
As we rounded a corner, Shadowfax reared with the sight of the Witch-King swooping on its foul beast.
"Go back to the abyss!" Gandalf shouted at it. "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"
The Witch King laughed. "Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" His voice was enough to make Pippin and I cry out in fear. "This is my hour," he continued in a hiss. The Witch-King lifted his sword and it burst into flame. Shadowfax continued to prance as Gandalf lifted his staff, which shattered as we were thrown from Shadowfax. The stallion snorted and whinnied in fear.
"Gandalf!" Pippin cried. He did not move.
Pippin screwed up his face and rushed towards the Witch-King with his sword in hand.
"No, Pippin!" I scrambled to my feet and the fell beast roared at us. Pippin stopped in his tracks, staring at it.
"You have failed," the Witch-King said. "The world of men will fall."
A melodious chorus of horns sounded from the fields far below, distracting the Witch-King. Gandalf looked up, hope in his eyes, and the Witch-King flew off. The sun was rising.
"The Rohirrim!" I yelled. "They've come!" Their horns continued to blow and Gandalf lifted us back onto Shadowfax's back.
"Come!" He cried. "We must save Faramir!"
For the sixth time that day, we journeyed back up to the citadel. Shadowfax was able to break open the doors with his hooves. We trotted in. Denethor stood atop the pyre, oil over himself and Faramir and the pyre. Soldiers with torches stood around them.
"Stay this madness!" Gandalf boomed.
The soldiers fell back, but Denethor seized a torch from one of them. "You may triumph in the field of battle for a day, but against the power that has risen in the east, there is no victory." With a smirk he dropped the torch onto the wood, sending it aflame.
Gandalf forced a spear from one of the guards and knocked Denethor off the pyre. Pippin knew what his duty was as he leapt bravely onto the burning wood, pushing Faramir with all his might. They rolled to the floor and I jumped down too, patting out the flames on Faramir's cloak. Denethor in a rage took Pippin by the throat and threw me aside. I felt hot flames on the side of my face and rolled away from them, trying to get to my feet in a daze while Pippin cried, being held over the flames by Denethor. I lunged for his robes.
"Get off him!" I screamed, while Pippin's cries wrenched my heart. "Get off him!"
"You will not take my son from me!" He yelled, his eyes rolling. His clothes were already aflame, and Shadowfax reared at the aid of Gandalf. Surprised, Denethor dropped Pippin to the ground as the flailing hooves knocked him into the fire.
Faramir opened his eyes at Denethor's gasp.
"Faramir," his father whimpered, and then his eyes bulged as the flames consumed him. Crying out, he leapt from the pyre and ran all the way down the citadel courtyard and off its peak, falling into the armies below.
"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion," Gandalf said, nodding to us. We followed him back to the battle. I held my cheek. It wasn't a bad burn, but it stung and I was sure it was red and raw.
Pippin held a hand out to me and I hid my face in shame, but took it.
It was scarcely an hour later that we crouched on a porch on the second level of the city while soldiers waited for a troll to breach the gate. Tears were streaming down both our faces as we waited. Pippin crept closer, holding his sword in his lap. He cried quietly, not bothering to wipe his cheeks. I linked my arm in his and he held my hand tightly, trembling with fear.
"I didn't think it would end this way," Pippin said quietly, looking up at Gandalf.
Gandalf, holding his staff, sitting above us, looked down at him in surprise. "End? No, the journey doesn't end here, Peregrin. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it…"
"What?" I asked. "Gandalf? See what?"
"White shores…" He continued. "And beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."
Pippin's voice cracked as he spoke, continuing to cry, but he smiled in reassurance. "Well," he said. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"No," Gandalf said. "No it does not."
The gate continued to groan, nearly breached by the efforts of the trolls and orcs. Gandalf nodded to us, and Pippin laid his head on my shoulder, gripped his sword and intertwined his fingers in mine, shutting his eyes. "Whatever happens," he whispered. "Promise you won't leave me."
"I won't," I whispered back, as fresh tears began to fall.
The Witch-King is Slain and We are Reunited With Some Dear Old Friends
16 March 3019, of the Third Age
26 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
The battle was over quickly, as the city was overtaken by green ghosts who killed but could not be killed, so thus our victory was swift. Gandalf took Pippin and I out to Pelennor Fields to walk among the quiet battlefield. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were there also, and gave us proud smiles and pats on the head before releasing the dead from whatever curse they were struck with. Gandalf, upon Aragorn's deed, bowed. Pippin and I continued to walk before stopping dead in our tracks.
"Is that what I think it is?" I breathed. I reached down and plucked a green leaf brooch and an elven cloak from the bloody grass.
"No…" Pippin wailed. "I've lost so much! Merry!" He called his cousin's name and held the brooch to his heart.
We jerked to life as Éomer, nearby us, ran through the crowds of bodies, falling to his knees and screaming. We followed his tracks to where Éowyn lay lifeless. He picked her up and held her, crying.
Aragorn gave us a heartfelt look as he followed Éomer to the Houses of Healing. With no where else to go, Pippin and I went as well. There, Aragorn tended to Éowyn's broken and badly poisoned arm. Sadly, we looked on. As Aragorn turned to leave, I bent next to Éowyn and sang.
"With a sigh, you turn away, with a deepening heart, no more words to say. You will find that the world has changed forever…" I paused to take a breath and look at Pippin. "And the trees are now turning from green to gold. And the sun is now fading…I wish I could hold you closer…"
Aragorn stopped and turned around to look at me, perplexed and hurt as I finished the song.
Stricken by the fear of battle and the knowledge that many of our friends may lie dead, Pippin clutched my arm and helped me to my feet. "I want to find him," he said.
The little green leaf grew warm as he held it tightly in his hand and led me back out to Pelennor Fields.
Night had fallen but it did not stop his determined soul to find his friend. "Merry?" He called to the empty field. "Merry?"
"There!" I cried, and ran to his side. Next to a fallen Oliphaunt, underneath a dead orc, lay Merry, deathly pale and bleeding. His old scar from the Uruk-kai was visible above his eye.
"We're here, Merry!" I cried and my words caught in my throat as I rolled the dead off him. He blinked and smiled as Pippin joined my side.
"Merry!" he sobbed, holding Merry's head in his hand. "It's me! It's Pippin!"
"I knew you'd find me," he said weakly with a smile.
"Yes," I said.
"Are you going to leave me?" He asked.
"No Merry," Pippin said between happy tears. "We're going to look after you." He pulled a cloak from the ground over him and lay beside him. I bent over his forehead and kissed him gently.
"The battle is over," I whispered. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."
Merry was taken also to the Houses of Healing, and Pippin begged me to sing the song "…about the trees turning and the world changing. It's pretty, and Merry will like it."
We stayed by his bedside as he regained his strength and the rest of the once-Fellowship debated about what to do to help Frodo.
The decision was made that we should create a diversion to empty Sauron's lands and stage a battle at Mordor's north; The Black Gate.
18 March 3019, of the Third Age
28 Rethe 1419, Shire-Reckoning Time...
Following a few mornings, Pippin and I dressed for battle in our black and silver uniforms, our Lórien cloaks, and while Pippin bowed his head I put his helmet on him, and he did the same for me.
"Are you ready?" I asked quietly as we walked from the citadel once more.
"No," Pippin said, with a forced laugh, patting his sword.
Gandalf was there to meet us with Shadowfax and Aragorn sat upon his noble horse Brego. Merry joined Éomer and the Rohirrim, who blew their horns in assembly.
"Where is Théoden?" I asked Aragorn, rushing to him. "Where is their noble king?"
Aragorn said nothing but looked to the windows of the Houses of Healing, and my eyes followed. Standing in the window was Éowyn with Faramir, who waved to us down below.
"He is dead," Aragorn said, spurring his horse into a walk.
"Wait!" I cried, running to keep up. "I don't want to be in a battle, Aragorn; I don't want to die in this place! We cannot possibly survive against millions of orcs, and Mordor itself is a plain of death!"
"It is not for us, but to give Frodo a chance," Aragorn replied bitterly. "We must give him eligibility to cross these 'plains of death' as you say. He must destroy the ring, and as long as we have breath in our bodies we must do what we can to aid him! He cannot do this alone!"
I blinked, casting my eyes down, and turned away. Pippin was waiting for me on Shadowfax in front of Gandalf, and he stretched his hand out to me. I took it and leapt aboard the tall horse.
"I cannot imagine what life will be back in the Shire," Pippin said. "After this... You promise to write us a book, Mandy?"
"I promised it and I will keep my word," I said. "We are Knights of Gondor, Pippin, and we keep our promises. I just want to get it over with and go home…"
Aragorn trotted out and in a line the men and we followed. The ride to the Black Gate began.
Pippin and I talked most of the way anyways, to distract from the potential danger we were heading into. I had thought at first it would be a short ride's way, but instead the armies had to ride north, through Ithilien. Shadowfax had a smooth gait, thank goodness, though my head grew heavy, in my thick mail and velvet armor, and the heat thickened in a short time. I felt my chin nod and I jerked awake, fearful of striking Pippin in the face with the spike atop my helm. Aragorn leading us, Shadowfax paced behind, and the armies of Gondor and Rohan trailed like a river in our wake through the dusty land. The ominous black mountains approached us on the flank and above them, black clouds smoldered. We took to the road all day, till I felt Pippin's chin in my shoulder and I soon was lulled by the coming dark and even footfalls of the great horse. I too, fell asleep, too still to realize Gandalf was plucking us hobbits up from his steed and down onto a pallet in a tent where Aragorn had laid camp.
"Silence!" Gandalf warned when we arrived.
The Black Gate was a huge spiky gate set into the Ash Mountains on the Northern border of Mordor.
There was a strange, eerie silence, as our massive army stood behind us and waited. Nothing happened.
"Where are they?" Pippin whispered.