Chapter
Nine
The campaign
of terror that had been kindled in Lebethron to sweep across Middle earth
from Lossarnach to Eden Ardhon finally arrived in Emyn
Arnen.
When Eowyn, Lady of Ithilien, was
delivered the news that an army of Wainriders
and Rhovanians were approaching Emyn Arnen from a northerly
direction, she almost laughed at the masterful strategy of the Confederacy’s
leader. The attack upon Lossarnach had rightly drawn away the bulk of Gondor’s
forces to defend the vale and to reinforce the fortifications at Gondor.
Until that threat was made known to them, it had been assumed by all that
when war came to the lands of the
However, with the threat appearing
to be directed at Lossarnach, the armies had left Ithilien, led by Imrahil
to answer the king’s call to arms to defend the city at all costs. Only a
third of the army still remained in Emyn Arnen for it did not seem possible that the enemy could
be at two places at once. Unfortunately, it was that assumption that left
Ithilien in the situation it now faced. Reports, erratic as they were, spoke
of widespread strife across Middle earth. Her own homeland of Rohan had fallen
under attack, the
Now, they were faced with the news
from the Rangers that the Wainriders were marching
upon Emyn Arnen with
an army of warriors from Rhovanian. Word had been
sent to Gondor and Lossarnach of the threat approaching Ithilien but it was
difficult to discern where their forces were at this time for the enemy had
been leading them on a merry chase indeed. Still, Eowyn was confident that
Emyn Arnen’s defences
would hold because a healthy contingent of soldiers still remained in Ithilien
and in particular around Emyn Arnen itself.
As soon as the news reached them
of the impending attack, Eowyn had sent out word to all settlements to abandon
their homes for safe havens until the enemy was dwelt with. Some took to
the foothills of Ephel Duath
while others retreated to the stronghold at Henneth
Annum. Most however, flocked to Emyn Arnen, believing the only safest protection would
come from the armies stationed there already. Their fear was no stranger
to Eowyn, who in her time suffered similar experiences during the War of
the Ring.
The former White Lady of Rohan moved
swiftly to counter the anxiety of her people by instilling in them the hope
that they were lost and that the armies of Ithilien were more than capable
of defending them against the scourge marching from the north. In truth,
she believed it herself. The armies of Ithilien were in much better stead
to match the Wainriders then the Rohirrim were
against the overwhelming numbers of Saruman’s army of the White Hand during
the War of the Ring.
Once the countryside of Ithilien
was removed of its people, the armies retreated to Emyn
Arnen preparing to defend the stronghold from
the invaders by taking advantage of the mountainous terrain that was the
ruling centre of Ithilien. Reinforcements would take little more than a
week to arrive from Gondor and Lossarnach but while the fortress of Emyn Arnen was nowhere
as formidable as the Hornburg, it was well secured
and could withstand a siege until the Prince of Ithilien returned. After
all, the last war had ensured that the numbers of the Wainriders were sufficiently depleted and the men
of Rhovanian were unseasoned warriors in this
particular arena of battle.
Eowyn had no intention of
fighting though the decision had been a difficult one to make. For the first
time in her life, she was forced to concede that it was necessary for her
to step aside and let others fight for her. It was a hard decision to make
for one was self-sufficient as she. All her life, Eowyn had been forced to
endure the belief that women should be protected and even though women of
Rohan were not above picking up a sword, it was something that they were
not called upon to do. Her prowess with the sword was something that she
had learnt in secret, her only confidant the brother she loved dearly. Even
at the Battle of Pelennor, she was forced to ride with the Rohirrim in disguise
where she distinguished herself in battle despite the loss of Theoden.
Now, she had to make a conscious
decision to yield because it was not merely her life that was held in the
balance but also the life of the babe slumbering inside of her.
In the weeks since her husband’s
departure, little had changed in her body that allowed anyone else to guess
that she was with child. Eowyn knew she should have told Faramir the truth
prior to his departure but she feared that doing so would make it harder
for him to leave. However, it now appeared that the war was not going to
be ended swiftly and he needed to know that there was something greater than
both of them from which to draw hope. As the days progressed, Eowyn began
to look forward to telling him and remembered how pleased he had been when
she suggested naming their first child after his beloved brother, Boromir.
She worried a little about the attack
coming, aware that in every engagement there was risk, but the contingent
advancing upon them were reportedly equal to the forces that would be defending
Emyn Arnen. Like
the rest of Ithilien’s war masters, Eowyn surmised
that this attack was just another effort by the Easterling Confederacy to
show the
The fortress and watchtower, known
as the Eastern Eye and home to the Prince of Ithilien was constructed upon
the hills of Emyn Arnen
and sat almost at the peak of this slight range. In the days before Hurin had been made the Ruling Steward, Emyn Arnen was the traditional
home of the Steward of Gondor. Built in the years following the
In the year 2002 of the Third Age,
the Witch King who had led the destruction at Angmar
struck at Minas Ithil and took the Gondorian
city for his master Sauron, bestowing upon it the name of Minas Morgul.
The conflict which was to end with the death of King Eärnur often found its direction utilising the intelligence
gathered by the watchers of the Eastern Eye and during the course of the fighting,
its walls had been the last safe refuge for the people who dwelt in Ithilien.
After the death of Eärnur and the ascendancy of Hurin,
the Eastern Eye was abandoned because Gondor was too weakened to maintain
a permanent fighting force within its walls. With the darkness of Mordor spreading
outwards, many of the folk who resided in
Perched almost upon the
The highest point in the Eastern
Eye was a stone spire that rose above the fortress, providing an unimpeded
view of the surrounding terrain for many leagues. A great horn occupied the
space within the guard tower. When sounded, there was not a corner of Emyn Arnen that would
not hear its alert. The top of the spire bore the ring of a walkway wide
enough for several men. This had been an added construction, built when the
Eastern Eye found itself contending with Mordor, in particular the Witch
King and his flying Winged Beasts.
While Faramir had turned the palatial
residence of the Eastern Eye into a place of beauty for his bride, there
were some parts of it that retained its martial appearance. The Lord of Ithilien
had lived far too long with the threat of enemies at his borders to be capable
of allowing peace to make him complacent. In between the canyon of stone
and the tall spire, was a residence as royal as any might be, befitting the
lord and lady of the realm, yet both were too accustomed to war to do away
with the fortifications.
Eowyn had been more than
ready to lead her people to the large halls beneath the Eastern Eye where
refugees in the past had flocked together in safety during great battles,
when she heard the great horn booming in her ears with its baleful din. It
sounded like the songs of the tree shepherds whose voices could be heard
from the forests of Fangorn. She felt a pang of longing as she ushered the
last of her people into the underground sanctuary, wishing very much to
join the battle before common sense prevailed. It was her responsibility
to protect her baby and if doing so meant allowing others to protect her
instead, then Eowyn would do so even if it were begrudgingly.
Following the winding staircase into
the darkness below the fortress, Eowyn was more than prepared to leave the
warriors of Ithilien to their battle when she heard above her, the horn blaring
once again. She paused in her advance below and puzzled at this second issue
for the sounding of the great horn was not to be taken lightly. Though it
may seem like a simple mechanism for alerting their warriors, there were
complexities to its signal that was a language on its own and to her hearing
at this moment, the great horn was telling her that something unexpected
had taken place.
Despite the promises made to protect
herself, Eowyn abandoned her descent momentarily and hurried up the steps,
determined to learn what warranted the second sounding of the great horn.
When she emerged on the surface once more, she saw that the urgency that
was evident upon the faces of all warriors had changed drastically. She watched
them for a moment, taking in the organised chaos that had become pandemonium.
It appeared that suddenly, their preparations were no longer enough. More
and more swords and arrows were being raced to the warriors on the wall.
Spears and pikes were hoisted to the walls with the weapons kept in reserve
now produced for apparent use.
Elsewhere, the great doors were being
fortified and braced, not merely with wood but wagons and barrels were being
piled against the entrance, ensuring that even if the thick wooden doors
would yield, no one would be able to penetrate the barricade being placed
before it. If the sudden need for more fortifications were not evidence
enough for some alteration in their circumstances, then the panic and anxiety
she saw in the faces of the men who rushed past her without looking up to
notice her presence was proof enough. Eowyn felt her heard begin to pound
in alarm and saw Beregond, the captain of the guard stationed against the
wall, shouting orders to his men.
Eowyn picked up her skirts
and hurried up the steps to the wall, determined to learn the truth. Her
heart was pounding so fiercely that she suspected she knew the answer even
if it would take Beregond to confirm it. Praying inwardly that she was wrong,
she made her way to Ithilien’s trusted captain
barely earning notice from Ithilien’s warriors
who were too busy with their preparations. As she neared Beregond, the former
soldier of Gondor lifted his gaze and caught sight of her before his expression
evaporated into shock.
“Lady Eowyn!”
Beregond exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You should be below with the
rest of the women and children!”
“You know perfectly well that I am
not just another woman Captain,” she said firmly, forgiving him his reaction
because she was more interested in what they were facing. “Now what is happening?
I hear the great horn sounding again and it does not appear to be the signal
of the first.”
“No it is not, my lady,” Beregond
answered, reaching the conclusion that he did not have time to argue with
her about her safety because she would only turn a deaf ear and because at
this moment, the presence of the shield maiden of Rohan was not an unwelcome
thing.
“Look to the north,” he instructed
Eowyn.
Eowyn followed his gaze and
saw the army of the Wainriders of Rhun. Despite
having seen worse at Helm’s Deep and the battle of Pelennor, the army, four
thousand strong, appeared quite formidable indeed. However, it should have
been no shock to them because they had anticipated this very number when
news had come from the Rangers of this eminent attack. These were large numbers
to say the least, but there was enough troops left behind in Ithilien, when
Faramir and Imrahil had set out to Lossarnach, to hold the Eastern Eye in
such a conflict. They had been prepared for it. What had changed that struck
so much fear into the hearts of these seasoned soldiers?
“It is the army of the Wainriders,” Eowyn nodded, “it is what we expected.”
“Come with me,” Beregond spoke as
he started to move away from her. The captain travelled along the length
of the wall, striding past the soldiers arming their quivers with as much
arrows as it could carry, ensuring that other weapons were in close reach
other than the swords in their scabbards. Eowyn called out to Beregond, insisting
that the captain tell her where they were going. It was not only until they
had reached the southern wall did he paused and regarded the lady.
“Look there,” he said simply.
Eowyn turned to the south
and felt her breath catch in her throat, realising at last what had been
the cause of the panic that was sweeping through the fortress. In the distance
was the Easterling army. She knew that they were Easterlings because the
army moving towards them like a swarm across the plain was surrounded by
at least three dozen mumakils. The Easterlings were not alone, she saw the
banner of the black serpent flying high above the invaders and knew that
the Haradrim were also there. Her breath caught in her throat when she realised
that she was looking at a force almost equal to the one she and her people
had faced at Helm’s Deep.
“That was their plan,” she whispered
softly.
“My lady?” Beregond stared at her.
“It was their plan,” Eowyn met his
gaze somewhat dazed. “They attacked Lebethron, Lossarnach, Edoras and possibly
Eden Ardhon to scattered our forces across Middle earth. It was Ithilien
that they wanted all along. The other attacks were merely to draw away a
good portion of our forces instead of keeping them here to protect our eastern
borders. Ithilien is full of grain, north and south. From here, they can
not only feed their army but they can also feed their people. Their lands
are under threat of famine, they need Ithilien for its crops but so long
as the Eastern Eye is fortified, they could never pillage it safely.”
“We have sent word to Lord Faramir,”
Beregond answered, “he will return soon with our armies.” It did not occur
to Beregond to doubt her speculations because he had been captain of the
guard in Ithilien long enough to know that the Lady Eowyn knew a good deal
about war craft and often sat at her husband’s right hand to provide opinions
in such matters. Lord Faramir loved her not only for her courage but also
because she had the strategic acumen of a warrior.
“There are almost ten thousand warriors
converging upon us like a pack of wolves. We but number two thousand in all
totality, our ability to hold the Eastern Eye becomes uncertain with such
odds,” she met his gaze.
Beregond opened his mouth to
answer but Eowyn gave him no chance to speak.
“However, we will hold this fortress,”
she said firmly, walking past him. “If I have discerned this plan then I
am certain that Faramir and Aragorn will do so soon enough if they have not
already. We will prevail until those reinforcements arrives.”
“They will not breach this walls
my lady,” Beregond spoke with more confidence than he felt but neither he
nor the Lady Eowyn were willing to admit this fact to each other.
Faith in their ability to overcome
would be a far greater tool to their survival than all the weapons in Ithilien.
Without speaking the words, Eowyn and Beregond made an unspoken pact that
no matter what happened during the course of the battle, their faith in the
ability to overcome would be unshakeable. The warriors who battled this night
had to believe that no matter how strong the enemy appeared to be. Eowyn
remembered how Theoden had fought at Helm’s Deep. They had held for as long
they did because of his unshakeable belief that they would prevail and she
was determined that it would be the same here. They would survive.
“I supposed it would be useless for
me to tell you that you would be safer below?” Beregond met her eyes with
a faint smile after the moment had passed and the understanding between them
was cemented.
“Even my lord would not be able to
keep me out of this battle,” Eowyn returned with a faint smile. “What makes
you think you will succeed where he could not?”
“I was a fool to assume such,” he
replied with unhidden admiration. “I would have you safely below, my lady,
but you slew the Witch King and fought with us at the Battle of Pelennor.
You are too skilled to be wasted waiting below.”
“Thank you,” Eowyn answered graciously,
but this was one battle she wished she did not have to fight.
***********
Dernhelm breathes
once more.
Gazing into the mirror of her chambers,
Eowyn had dressed alone and tried to ignore the overwhelming sound of silence
within the empty halls of the royal residence. In stark contrast to the quiet
within, the sounds of preparation beyond its walls were at a juggernaut pace.
The enemy was not far, she surmised by the haste in which everyone was moving.
She would need to join them soon. Tying her long golden hair into a thick
braid, she then turned her attention to the most important aspect of her
preparation.
Adjusting the belt around her waist,
she ensured that the sheath of her sword hung comfortably from her hip. Once
it was secured, Eowyn slipped Anglachel into its scabbard. The sword, forged
by the Dark Elf Eol, had come to her when she and Arwen had set out on the
quest to keep the ancient enemy Glaurung from infusing the spirit of Morgoth
in Arwen’s unborn child. They had retrieved the weapon after slaying the
worms guarding it and then used the weapon to slay Glaurung himself. Arwen
had made a gift of the sword to Eowyn after the quest was done, as a gesture
of gratitude for her courage.
When Eowyn
looked into the mirror and saw the Shield Maiden of Rohan staring back at
her, she knew she was ready at last for the battle ahead. She turned to leave
the chamber shared by herself and her lord when suddenly, the will to leave
faded. In a daze, her eyes drifted to her belly, her hand leaving the hilt
of her sword to caress gently the slight swell of her stomach. No one else
in Emyn Arnen knew
and if she died today, they would never know.
“I did not mean for this to happen,”
she said softly, as if the child nesting comfortably in her belly could hear
and understand her. “I did not wish to fight but the choice is taken from
me in this. I am what I am, my child. I am the daughter of kings, and it
is has been in my lot for as long as I can remember to be what I am. I no
longer know how to deny it. For you I would have lowered my sword but the
battle beyond these walls will not allow me the chance to do nothing. So
I must go and risk both of us. I wish that it had not come to this, I wish
that your father were here and I grieve that I did not tell him about you
because he deserved to know the glimmer of hope that you were, even briefly.
I wish that I were different but I am not. They are our people and they need
me.”
And with that, Eowyn looked up and
hurried out of the chamber to join the battle.
**************
In stony silence, the defenders of
Ithilien watched as the Wainriders reached the
foot of Emyn Arnen
and advanced no further. The enemy lowered their shields and their weapons,
keeping themselves beyond the reach of Ithilien’s
archers and simply waited. They made no move towards the fortress and this
lack of movement was harder against the nerves of those on the wall, then
open combat. This limbo seemed to breed greater anxiety upon the warriors
of Ithilien though it was no mystery why the enemy had chosen to wait. The
noonday sun rose high in the clouds and crossed across the sky into afternoon
before the wait for both sides came to and end.
The Easterlings and the Haradrim,
having met at the banks of the Anduin as each army neared Emyn Arnen, now moved
as one and made their way northwards at a rapid pace. They were led by their
mumakils whose size and strength was capable of accomplishing what a thousand
men armed with battering rams could not, and that was to break open the gates
of the fortress. They reached the Wainriders
and the army of Rhun as the afternoon grew late and as the sun began to set,
turned their eyes to their quarry in the twilight hour. Once the enemy was
gathered in its terrible numbers, the defenders of Ithilien held their breaths
in anticipation of the inevitable order to proceed. Warriors rushed to the
gate, armed with long spears and equally sharp pikes, painfully aware that
if the gate was breached then the Eastern Eye would be lost and perhaps with
it, Ithilien itself.
“UNTASARE!”
The word had no recognition to the
people of the Westerness for the language was
that of that Haradrim but of it’s meaning there could be no doubt. The earth
shuddered as the great horde began its swift advance across the hills framing
the peak of Emyn Arnen.
They moved across the land like an ocean swell, a tide of bodies rushing
to meet the shore. The mumakils numbers were divided with one contingent
taking the beaten path of dirt through the hills that would lead them straight
to the main entrance of the fortress while the other advanced with their
army. The great beasts curled their trunks and raised their heads as they
charged, dozens of men borne on their backs, ensuring that once they broke
through, there would be warriors to flood the opening.
It was decided that there were too
many of the enemy to meet them on the field so the defense
would take place on the wall. Archers lined its length, with bows armed,
ready to release a deadly barrage upon the enemy as soon as they neared.
Beregond took charge of directing the archers while Eowyn hurried along the
wall to the gates because she was certain that it was there that they were
at their most vulnerable. She saw the awesome might of the mumakils moving
up the path towards the great doors and knew that the warriors charged with
barring that entry to the enemy were rushing to brace the door even as she
stood watching.
“Release!” Beregond’s voice snapped
her out of her observation and she turned to see a wall of arrows surging
through the air like a black storm. They slammed into the enemy with such
force that the sudden halt of so many was like a ripple in the tide. As they
fell to the ground, the others behind them forged on ahead, trampling them
underfoot without concern. Though the journey took them over hilly terrain,
it did not hinder their rapid progress at all and they scaled the hills separating
them from the fortress with surprising speed. More arrows tore into their
numbers and the cycle of death was repeated as they neared the base of the
wall. Some had paused to return arrows of their own.
Eowyn flinched seeing crossbows
employed, thinking how much like Melia’s weapon they looked. It was easy
to forget Melia’s origins because of their friendship but the lady of Eden
Ardhon had made no secret of it. Melia was not ashamed of where she had come
from, merely saddened by the way her people had been moulded to suit Morgoth’s
and then later on, Sauron’s purpose. Eowyn wondered what Melia must think
of all this and hoped that she would survive enough to see her friend again.
A scream brought her back to the
moment when she saw an arrow embed itself in one of the soldiers near her.
His scream followed him to the ground when he toppled over the edge of the
wall and landed hard. Eowyn immediately took cover behind the wall and crawled
to avoid the reach of arrows parlaying back and forth between invaders and
defenders. The enemy had yet to reach the wall but she could hear the rumble
of their approach growing louder in her ears with each second. Upon reaching
the gate, she saw the bracing continuing and the barricade growing so large
that even with the doors were to yield, the enemy would have difficulty entering.
Looking over the edge of the walls,
she saw the mumakils were making better time than their human counterparts.
Their journey along the road created a cloud of dust around them, making
it difficult to see the exact number of men they carried. Their size was
so enormous that they stood almost the height of the wall and Eowyn wondered
if it was wholly possible to keep them out. They were not far now, within
the reach of arrows and Eowyn knew the order to shoot would have to come
soon. They had to stops the animals from reaching the gates because she suspected
that despite all the precautions, the barricades would not hold.
“Shoot now!” Eowyn shouted.
“We must wait until they are closer!”
One of the minor captains leading the defense
of the gates protested.
“You cannot afford to!” Eowyn barked
back sharply, her eyes shifting back and forth from the mumakils to the man
before her. “You must keep as many of them away from the gates as possible.
I do not know if we will be able to stop one, let alone five! NOW SHOOT!”
The captain wrestled with the decision
briefly, his face showing his anxiety at what was coming at them. The thick
horns alone would have little trouble spearing the wooden doors, to say nothing
of what their physical strength was capable of doing.
“We do not have a great deal of time!”
Eowyn insisted, prompting him into a decision.
“Release the arrows!” He shouted
turning away.
The archers let loose their arrows,
causing a deadly barrage to strike the charging mumakils. The beasts bellowed
in pain as some of the arrows met their mark but their thick hides made any
serious damage impossible. The bombardment had better affect upon the men
perched upon the creatures’ backs then the mumakils themselves. Their charge
did not halt despite the arrows that could be seen protruding from their
bodies, trailing rivulets of blood down their flanks. If anything the pain
seemed to make them run faster and their bellowing grew louder and louder
as they approached the door.
Eowyn and the warriors stationed
on the wall quickly grabbed spears while others armed themselves with pikes,
as the distance between the gates and the mumakils grew shorter. They had
to avoid being struck by archers riding the backs of the beasts, attempting
to clear the path to the gate. She flung her spear as far as it would go
and had some measure of success as the weapon struck the first in the throat.
However, while the pain registered upon the creature, it did little to hinder
its advance. The beast was simply too big to be halted in that fashion. Eowyn
was starting to wonder if anything could.
“Brace yourselves!” She heard someone
shout.
Eowyn quickly grabbed hold
of the stone edge as she saw the distance between the mumakils and the gate
close.
“Archers! We must kill as many of
the riders as we can!” She shouted to anyone listening. It seemed like the
more achievable goal then attempting to stop the mumakils.
Her advice seemed to be accepted
as wise for a phalanx of arrows was soon surging across the sky towards the
enemy. It struck many of the riders upon the back of the mumakils as the
beast near the gate and sent many falling to their deaths after they were
pierced by arrows. Unfortunately, this success was small in comparison to
the calamity that would befall the fortress now that the mumakils were upon
them. The beasts slammed into the gates so hard that even the stone pillars
beside it shuddered in protest. Eowyn could see chunks of mortar coming loose
from the cracks where the stone slabs met. She was forced to hold fast or
be thrown to the ground like many of the men on the wall. The wooden gates
strained against the impact but managed to hold for the moment. The collision
renewed attempts to bring down the animals but the mumakils were quick to
resume their relentless pounding. The defenders were now hurling anything
they could lay their hands upon to stop the beasts from breaking through.
Eowyn hurled spears at the
beast that was soon joined by another and under the heavy assault of these
formidable creatures; she could feel the wall beginning to weaken. The wooden
gates were buckling under the strain of the mumakils’ bombardment. Wood began
to splinter despite the best efforts of the defenders to brace the doors.
Unfortunately, it was a losing battle as the pounding continued without pause
until at last, the doors gave way dull crack of wood tearing apart. Not only
did the door give way but the back of the bracing was snapped in half under
the power of the mumakils. Even the wall to which the doors were attached
broke apart with a great heave.
Eowyn felt the weight of
the floor give way beneath her, and only managed to keep herself from being
buried under debris of the collapsing wall because she had dug her nails
deep into the stone and refused to be pulled down. Others were not so fortunate
though they were unable to lament their fate from beneath the pile of stones
they had been buried. Eowyn pulled herself to safety and look below her,
hoping that not all who had fallen had been entombed. Yet she could see no
signs of life, no heaving of dust and rock to indicate that someone was burrowing
out of their prison. Nor was there any time to dig them out if any were
injured because once the wall had crumbled, the enemy had directed its attention
from the frontal assault to the infiltration of the newly created opening.
The invasion of the fortress appeared
to split on two fronts, from the diverted force attempting to scale the walls,
and the contingent of warriors riding the backs of the mumakils had broken
through the gates. The beasts forced themselves past the opening, ferrying
their masters deeper into the walls of the Eastern Eye. Once within the perimeter
of the walls, the Easterlings lowered themselves to the ground with ropes.
Eowyn watched in growing horror at the growing number of enemy filling the
floor below her. With a heavy heart, she began to see the fortress was taken;
that the beloved home she shared with Faramir would fall.
Valor did not come without
a price, she told herself and unsheathed her sword. Along the wall, she
could see the enemy beginning to overwhelm the exhausted warriors of Ithilien
who had fought bravely and continued to fight, even though each of them that
fell was replaced by another enemy troops penetrating their front. It would
be a fight to death, she decided as she rushed forward to ensure that she
did not go to her end without ensuring a good many of the enemy went with
her. Eowyn swung Anglachel at the first Easterling warrior that came into
sight, taking his head away from his shoulders in one single strike. The decapitated
skull spun into the air as the body dropped to the floor without further
resistance.
Eowyn did not wait to see
where it landed before another enemy soldier confronted her. The curved blade
came at her with the same force she had delivered to his predecessor. She
blocked it easily, no stranger to a stronger opponent because her sparring
partner had been a man of the Mark, a race of physical strength in comparison
to these Easterlings who were lean, agile and relied more upon cunning than
power to fight. Unfortunately for him, being a woman, Eowyn’s fighting skills were an amalgamation of both.
She kicked out with her foot as their swords met, the ball of her heel meeting
the soft flesh of his stomach and driving him backwards, breaking their connection.
Whilst he was off balance, she surged forward in a powerful offensive. He
tried to recover the weakness but Eowyn never gave him the change and tore
open his chest before he could raise his sword to deflect her blow.
Realising that a formidable warrior
had entered their midst, at least three of them charged her. Eowyn dodged
the blow of the first as he struck. Slipping under his blade, she took a
swipe at the second closing in on her, slicing his throat with a well-coordinated
strike. Blood spilled forth from his bleeding throat as he dropped to his
knees. Eowyn turned around and caught the blade of the first, forcing him
back with an equally powerful strike. He staggered slightly but did not falter
and returned with even more ferocity. Eowyn defended herself capably before
her senses felt the presence of the third, waiting for the moment to inflict
the killing blow. Her eyes turned just in time to see a sword raised over
her head, the blade about to come down upon her skull. She had little chance
to do anything as she was still fighting his companion, and was struck by
this terrible feeling of failure because she was about to die.
Suddenly, the point of an arrow burst
through his chest.
The sudden death of his comrades
distracted both her opponent and Eowyn for a brief instance but it was Eowyn
who recovered first because it was her life that had suddenly been given
a chance of continuing. She smashed a fist wrapped in a gauntlet of mail into
his faceplate, causing blood to spill from the seams and impaled him with
Anglachel before he had opportunity to do anything else. Without wasting
any time, she promptly shoved him over the edge of the walkway, not bothering
to see his fate upon hitting the ground. Turning to the man who had died,
Eowyn’s eyes noticed something she had been unable
to earlier. Her hand flew to the arrow and ran her thumb across its flight.
It was elven.
Turning sharply in the direction
of where it had come, she saw what the other defenders of Ithilien were now
beginning to notice themselves. In the nearby distance, closing in on the
dark forces arrayed against them was an army of light. Armour shinning like
polished gold, astride horses without saddles, directed by a language man
would never understand or be able to speak, the elves made their arrival.
For a moment, Eowyn thought she was
dreaming for an alliance of men and elves had not existed in three thousand
years, not since the defeat of Sauron when the ring had been cut from his
hand. She blinked and saw that they did not fade like a dream was meant to
but were still closing in. They had begun the slaughter of the enemy with
arrows, sending a deadly barrage that met every mark aimed. The enemy army
turned away from the Eastern Eye to confront this new threat that numbered
in the thousands. Eowyn did not think she would see so many elves in her
lifetime. She did not even think that there were so many left in Middle earth,
but it appeared she was wrong. She estimated an army, at least four thousand
strong.
Relief flooded into her being upon
seeing the elves approaching the enemy flank. Now the defenders of Ithilien
could focus on expelling the mumakils from their walls. The enemy had began
to drift away from the wall as they prepared to engage the elves while some
still remained at the wall, dividing their forces even further. A dark shadow
suddenly loomed over her whilst her attention was focussed on the shift of
the battle. Eowyn swung around to meet his new threat and saw herself facing
a mumakils that was charging at the wall, out of control. The beast’s body
was a bloody collection of pikes, spears and arrows. She could see the pain
in its eyes as it rumbled forward.
“JUMP!” She heard someone shout.
Without thinking twice, Eowyn leapt
into the air, when the swaying trunk of the animal struck her hard and swatted
her aside like a fly. Eowyn felt the pain coursing through her body as the
ground rushed up to meet her. Struck by the fear of what was coming, she
managed to pull her knees beneath her chin, and holding her body into a tight
ball before she landed, protecting her child as much as she was capable.
She did not even know where Anglachel had gone, aware only briefly that it
was torn from her hands. Thoughts such as this moved through her mind at
the pace of an instant before she saw the ground reaching for her. Her landing
was hard. The pain surged through her side and progressed across the rest
of her, dragging a curtain of blackness over her entire being until she knew
nothing more.
************
For the elves, the attack upon Eden
Ardhon was not a warning of neutrality but a declaration of war.
The race of men, save perhaps the
heirs of the Numenor, existed under the belief
that the elves were a peaceful race, beings of starlight that had long ago
transcended the ugly emotions that still plagued all others. The elves were
an ideal of purity and grace, a monument to the splendour of a past golden
age that faded rapidly in decline. Perhaps it was this perception that contributed
to the ignorance of the race’s nature. Serenity and peace was merely a by-product
of being ageless. Once could not live so long without learning nothing and
the elves had ample of time to become better than what they were because
they had been provided with immortality to do so.
The myth had become so prevalent
that the reality of what they once were, had been forgotten. The elves had
lived during the worst ages of Middle earth, they had survived Morgoth and
wars that made Sauron’s bid for power pale in comparison and they did so
because they knew how to defend themselves and they knew how to win despite
overwhelming odds. When wronged, they hungered for battle as thirstily as
any other race and they avenged with as much vigour.
The attack on Eden Ardhon had shaken
them to the core because all were incensed by the arrogance that permitted
the enemy to forget who they were dealing with. The enemy had dared to believe
that the elves would bow down to intimidation when not even Sauron or Morgoth
had made them falter in their course. When Thranduil announced to the Woodland
realm what had happened to Eden Ardhon, the fury displayed by Legolas became
a firestorm that would not burn itself out until the enemy was vanquished.
Many of the elves in the Woodland Realm were kin to those who had been killed
or defiled in Eden Ardhon, and honour demanded that restitution be made in
blood.
At East Lorien, similar outrage was
expressed. Celeborn had been easy to convince because Miriel had been a loyal friend and ally to his wife
Galadriel and the dishonour to her sparked his fury. Haldir, whose feeling
for the Lady Melia had simmered in a deep friendship, shared Legolas need
to exact vengeance upon the Easterlings who presumed to defile the Lady of
Eden Ardhon. Within days, an army that likes of which had not been assembled
for many millennia departed the forest of Mirkwood and made swift journey
southwards. They had not travelled far when they discovered that another
army was on the move, only a few days before them.
It was Legolas who discerned where
they were going and ordered that the army he commanded with Haldir, as his
lieutenant, to make haste, for it appeared Ithilien would need their aid.
Thranduil and Celeborn had remained in their respective realms, preferring
to allow Legolas and Haldir to lead their armies since they were needed to
rule. Word had also been sent to Imladris that
should Elladan and Elrohir choose to involve themselves within this conflict
then Rohan would benefit from their aid now that the goblins of Moria had
allied themselves with the Dunlendings. The lands of Rohan had to be guarded
now that the formidable cavalry of the Rohirrim was divided between providing
aid to Gondor as well as guarding their own borders.
In the meantime, they had work to
do in Ithilien. Legolas knew that the Gondorian army was not far away. Upon
discovering the presence of an army making its way to Ithilien, Legolas had
sent riders at best speed to intercept the Gondorian army and alert them
of the danger. Whether or not those forces arrived at Emyn Arnen in time did
not matter much in the scheme of things because the elves would reach the
besieged fortress first.
Upon approaching the fortress called
the Eastern Eye, Legolas with his keen eyes had seen Faramir’s lady, Eowyn
battling a trio of enemy warriors. The elf could not help but admire the
skill of the woman to be able to defend herself, because her swordsmanship
was easily one of the best he had ever seen. However, the numbers were against
her and as he saw the one of her attackers preparing to deliver a fatal blow,
the archer immediately drew his an arrow from his bow and dispatched quickly
her would be killer.
“Haldir!” He called out to the march
warden in elvish. “Take half our people to help with the defence of the wall!
The rest of you follow me. The fortress has been breached by the mumakils.
Unless we drive them out, there will tear it apart!”
The army of elves separated like
a flock of birds parted against the wind. Legolas saw Haldir urging those
behind him to charge at the enemy at the wall. The prince of the Woodland
Realms and the Lord of Eden Ardhon was determined to kill every last invader
within the walls of Ithilien because mumakils were the beasts of burden for
Easterlings. Legolas was almost certain it was they who had invaded Eden
Ardhon and defiled his beloved Melia. As he led the charge towards the breached
gates, gapping open like wound, Legolas was determined to make the enemy
pay in blood for what they had done to her.
He carved himself a path to the gates
in bodies as arrow after arrow escaped Galadriel’s gift to him, meeting their
mark with each effort. Bodies felt away like the wind blowing away leaves
until he passed through the ruin gate and began to turn his attention to
the mumakils. The beasts were big and they towered over the horses flooding
the fortress the same ways the enemy had done earlier. Under the direction
of their masters, the huge beasts were now assaulting the protective walls
around the fortress with similar. Ithilien’s warriors
were having great difficulty trying to defend the wall against the invaders
when they had to fear the mumakils.
Legolas thought quickly and an idea
came to him at that moment. He searched the chaos of fighting around him
and saw what he needed. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Legolas removed
his sword and cut his way through to the torch that had so far managed to
remain undisturbed. Once there, he put away his weapon once more and retrieved
his bow. Arming it with an arrow, Legolas lowered the arrowhead into the
fire and saw the flame snaking down the shaft. It did not take long before
the arrowhead was burning with strength and Legolas took aim, his blue eyes
fixed upon the beasts’ harness.
Releasing the arrow, Legolas watched
as it sailed through the air and struck the wooden contraption on the mumakil’s back that held so many of their soldiers
who was raining death upon Ithilien with arrows. The fire of one arrow did
not spread as much as Legolas believed it would so the elf lord delivered
another and then more, until he had used so many arrows that the fires burning
on the harness was able to do nothing but spread. The mumakil’s panic was evident by the bellow it made
upon discovering the proximity of this natural danger to itself. Swaying
about widely, the beast attempted to shake of the burden on its back that
was now billowing with smoke. It smashed through the opening it had created
in a bid to douse the flames, it trunks flaying about in naked panic.
“The rest of you!” Legolas ordered
the other elves and archers capable of hearing him. “Follow my lead. Breath
your arrows with flame and let it fly. If the enemy chooses to remain in
this fortress with their beasts, then we will burn them down!”
The mumakils
that Legolas had set alight had completely brought down the gates and the
doorway that held it. As soon as the beasts had cleared the fortress, it
dropped to its knees and then rolled onto its back. The Easterlings who had
not wisely chosen to jump off the creature’s back was crushed under its tremendous
weight as it tried desperately to smother the flames consuming the offending
harness. Their screams cut short with shocking finality. Legolas’ example
soon had many of Ithilien’s archers, including
the elves themselves, making the same assault upon the mumakils. Terrified
that they would meet the same fate as the first, the mumakils masters prudently
withdrew.
Legolas was glad of this but the
battle was not done, the beasts under the mastery of the Easterlings were
still dangerous even if he had driven them out of the immediate vicinity.
His use of fire had driven them out of the fortress but he was not about
let any of the Easterlings ferried on their backs, survive. The beasts were
not responsible for the actions of their masters and Legolas preferred not
to harm them if he could avoid it. Issuing orders to a small portion of the
elves riding at his side, Legolas sent them after the mumakils fleeing the
threat of fire. None of the Easterlings were going to survive this day,
not if he had anything to do with it.
The elves arrival provided much needed
spirit to the defenders of Emyn Arnen who launched themselves into battle with an unprecedented
surge of determination. Despite the terrible destruction wrought by the mumakils,
and the fact that many of their people lay dead, they were determined to
make the enemy pay for this insult. However if they thought their determination
was fierce, then they were somewhat astonished by the frenzy by which the
elves battled their enemy. The elves were thought to be a dwindling power
in Middle earth and many of the warriors at Emyn
Arnen had never even seen them until now. They
carried images of a fair and graceful folk, compassionate and wise. It was
quite sobering to find that the reality was quite different.
The Easterlings were suffering the
brunt of the elves’ fury. It seemed as if every elf who had opportunity
to slaughter an Easterling did so with almost cruel relish. There was vengeance
in their eyes though many defenders were uncertain what had caused such rage.
It was rather frightening to see the elves sweeping through the enemy, armed
with daggers, swords and bows like a scourge that might have been envisioned
by Morgoth himself. Their attacks were almost frenzied and so violent that
after a time, the warriors of Emyn Arnen began to see real fear in the eyes of the enemy.
They appeared to prefer dying at
the hands of men rather than elves. As the Easterling bodies began to pile,
the warriors of Ithilien could well understand why.
*************
Danallar of Harad was beginning
to see that he had made a fatal mistake.
His gamble to keep the elves out
of the conflict with the Reunified Kingdom had not only failed but had ignited
the fires of fury he had never seen in the race before this. It had been
three thousand years since the elves had gone to war and Danallar had hoped that the years of peace had inured
the race to the desire for battle. Their departure from Middle Earth seemed
to indicate the truth in this belief. He had thought the attack upon Eden
Ardhon would strengthen the elves resolve to depart Middle Earth, not embark
upon a path of violence that was starting to bear all the marks of a holy
crusade.
As he watched Legolas Greenleaf leading
the elven army, inciting any elf in hearing distance to kill every Easterling
in sight, he began to understand the full weight of his error. The elves
would turn the tide and unlike Gondor and Rohan, would not stop when they
were forced back to their own lands. It was entirely possible that they
might pursue the Confederacy back to home soil. That possibility shook the
leader of the war effort to the core for he had not anticipated this outcome.
However, seeing the fury of the elves told Dallanar
he could not take the chance. It was Legolas who was leading them, Legolas
whose rage was the match that had set the others aflame.
It was Legolas he had to kill.
***************
When Legolas heard the enemy calling
for retreat, he was almost disappointed.
He had lost count of how many he
had killed this day but was certain that if he chose to tally the number,
he would have won his contest with Gimli a dozen times over. Yet despite
the blood on his hands, his rage was far from abated. All he had to do to
set his anger aflame once more was to think about his wife, the despair on
her face after they had violated her and killed Anna in front of her. His
anger surged through his veins with such intensity he could barely contain
it. Across the Eastern Eye, Legolas could see the large number of enemy forces
becoming large number of dead bodies and still it did not feel as if it was
enough.
The mumakils
had been driven away from the fortress and now the beasts stood placidly
at the foothill of Emyn Arnen
now that their masters were killed. He saw the warriors of Emyn Arnen were now on
the offensive, driving the enemy from their walls. They had fought a good
battle, Legolas thought to himself, though he was somewhat concerned for he
had not sighed Lady Eowyn since the elves arrived at the fortress. He offered
a silent prayer to the Valar that she was safe.
Across the length of the Eastern Eye, the enemy was departing in great numbers.
Legolas led Arod to the ruined gate, preparing
to issue an order to give pursuit when something tugged at the edge of his
senses and forced him to turn.
Someone slammed so hard into his
body that the elf did not have time to utter a cry. The force of his attack
was such that he was unseated from the saddle and landed heavily on the ground
below. Arod snorted in dismay, unable to do anything
but step back so as to avoid trampling his master. Legolas shook his head
to rid himself of disorientation when suddenly, a boot slammed into his side
breaking ribs with one swift kick. The elf let out a cry of pain but recovered
in time to see a shape looming over him, a sword held in the air preparing
to deliver a fatal blow.
Legolas flipped upright and stepped
back just as the blade came down on the space where he would have been. The
elf unsheathed the daggers he carried on his back for his sword had fallen
out of his grip when this new enemy had waylaid him. Legolas stared for a
moment at the tall Easterling warrior glaring at him. The elf recognised
him immediately as the same opponent that Aragorn had battled at Lossarnach.
Indeed the wound caused by Legolas’ arrow was still apparent upon the flesh
of his arm. This was the leader of Easterling Confederacy.
“You are their king,” Legolas stated.
“I am their king,” the enemy answered.
“We have business you and I,” Legolas
said icily.
“Indeed we do,” the tall man agreed.
“I will kill you tonight.”
“You may try,” Legolas answered.
The call of retreat was still echoing
throughout the fortress but the man did not move to escape the elf’s presence.
Instead, he came at Legolas swinging. The elf lord dodged the effort easily
and slashed at the enemy’s body with an almost casual swipe. The Easterling
king hissed and spun around, his eyes narrowing for a more cunning attack.
“I plan to honour those who took
your wife,” he sneered, baring his white teeth against the dark flesh of
his lips.
He regretted the words as soon as
he had spoken them, he saw something in the elf’s eyes that made him shudder
in fear. It was as if the storm had suddenly been given life from Legolas’
intense fury. It rose to the surface with shocking speed and before he could
question what he was done, the elf lord was lunging at him.
Legolas struck every blow the Easterling
king offered barely noticing it. He moved with speed only another elf could
match and continued repelling the enemy’s efforts to strike as if he were
a child, fencing for the first time. Legolas was relentless in his attack,
driving the man of Harad back with each contact of steel. He noticed nothing
of the battle raging around him, his world shrinking into a circle inhabited
by two beings, himself and the enemy. Legolas allowed the storm to sweep
him away, relishing its power as it helped him to focus himself as he had
never been before. His mind was so painfully clear, as was his vengeance.
Blood was not enough.
Blood was never going to be enough.
When the king’s blade was finally
ripped from his hands as he lay pinned against the wall, both of Legolas’
daggers against his skin, the elven lord’s fury seemed to simmer somewhat.
“Go on!” The enemy hissed. “Kill
me!”
“It would make things simpler,” Legolas
replied, wanting him to make no mistake that he was conflicted about this.
“Take your head and the war ends with your blood spilling.”
“Then do it,” the king glared at
him. “Do it!”
Legolas pushed the blade of one dagger
harder against his throat, until the edge bit skin and caused the enemy to
flinch. Legolas could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could smell the
fear and defiance oozing off his skin and still, it was not enough to sate
his hatred for this man and all he had done, not merely to the elves but
to his friends throughout Middle earth.
“No,” Legolas shook his head. “I
will not kill you.”
“Then you are not as strong as I
thought,” the king hissed.
“What is your name?” Legolas asked.
“I did not give Gondor’s king my
name, I will not give it to you.” He replied defiantly.
“Very well,” Legolas answered and
took a step back, his weapons lowering as he stared at Aragorn’s nemesis
and the object of his deep hatred. “I will not kill you. You do not deserve
to die just yet. You have violated my wife and my people because you dared
to presume to know elves. In the days to come, I hope you will come to understand
how much of an error you have made by that assumption. We have been awakened
and now that we are awake, we will not stop until it is your
city that burns, your people that are dead. Do you understand what you have
unleashed upon your race?”
The king did not speak because he
did know but could not bear to answer.
“We are coming
for you and all who have stood by you,” Legolas replied. “The war is just
beginning.”