Sword and Arrow

Chapter 60

Aragorn stood with Beruthiel, Legolas, and Gimli, watching the fleet of corsairs sail up and up the river. It seemed as if they took forever to approach the four, but when they did, Aragorn stepped forward, raising his voice. "You may go no further," he shouted to the captain of the flagship. "You will not enter Gondor."

"Who are you to deny us passage?" the pirate shot back with a sneer.

"Legolas," Aragorn said, leaning in closer. "Fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear."

"Mind your aim," Gimli grunted and nudged the bow just as Legolas shot.

The arrow went straight through a pirate's chest.

"That's it," Gimli said loudly. "We warned you. Prepare to be boarded."

Though one of his crewmembers had just been killed, the bosun still laughed. "Boarded?" he exclaimed. "By you and whose army?"

"This army," Aragorn called, and raised his sword. The army of the Dead materialized behind him and the King of the Dead ran straight through Aragorn, set in a dead sprint for the ships.

The pirates recoiled and shouted in terror as the ghosts boarded the ship. It was massacre inside: each and pirate shot and killed or thrown overboard, blood making the boards slippery. The prisoners that rowed the ships were freed and given two choices: to disembark and try to find their villages, or to continue rowing under better conditions, as free men, under the promise that they would not enter the battle.

Most chose the second option, and the fleet sailed to the next port where the Dunedain waited for the party.

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The host of the Rohirrim had stopped by a lake to camp for the evening. The tents had not been brought farther than Dunharrow, and soldiers sat in rings around fires enjoying what could possibly be the last meal of their lives.

"The scouts report Minas Tirith is surrounded," Éomer reported to the king. "The lower level's in flames. Everywhere, legions of the enemy advance."

"Hmm," said Théoden, furrowing his brow. "Time is against us."

"Take heart, Merry," Éowyn said nearby. She had dressed as a man in their night in Dunharrow and now she rode with the men, Merry sharing her saddle. "It will soon be over."

"My lady," Merry said, "you are fair and brave and have much to live for, and many who love you." He sighed. "I know it is too late to turn aside." Merry looked down at his feet, fingering the hilt of his short sword. "I know there is not much point now in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan capable of great deeds... but I'm not. I'm a hobbit, and I know I can't save Middle-earth." He shook his head. "I just want to help my friends. Frodo, Sam, Pippin... More than anything, I wish I could see them again."

Horns blew as the Rohirrim prepared to set off again. "Prepare to move out!" Éomer yelled to the soldiers as they packed their small bags and mounted their horses once more.

"Make haste," Théoden ordered. "We ride through the night!"

Éowyn donned her helm, Merry following soon behind. Then she lifted him onto their horse and mounted behind him, taking the reins. "To battle," she said decisively, following behind the company she had joined.

"To battle," Merry agreed.

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The battle went on and on. Down below the city walls, at the gates, a battering ram was drawn up by a large number of trolls. It was shaped like a wolf's head, and fire burned in its jaws. A fearsome tool for a fearsome day.

Orcs exchanged volleys with Gondor's soldiers. Neither were particularly skilled archers as the elves of Mirkwood or the Rangers of the North are, but the arros fell in sheets, covering the sky and falling like rain on the opposing side.