And In The Dawn Save Them

Prologue

Several hours passed, and the battle went on and on. The cold, rainy day, which had turned the earth into sticky mud from which armour and hair could no longer free themselves, had given way to a clear, cloudless night. The enemies faced each other in unreal clarity, with every detail highlighted by the moonlight, revealing the horror of gaping bloody wounds, mouths open with a death cry, or eyes glistening with rage. The weapons gleamed just as brightly in the moonlight as they did in the moisture of the fresh blood.

In this field of violence, the Rohirrim fought as if in a never-ending nightmare: they were putting all their energy into this final battle that would seal the fate of their kingdoms, alongside the Gondorians. But the enemies were difficult to eradicate: like cockroaches, they resisted the onslaught and seemed to multiply as they were killed.

The incredible tenacity of the men of Rohan, which was their legend, was also their despair: with the enemy at equal strength, no one retreated an inch. As the hours passed, the corpses piled up, men, orcs and horses alike. Yet no one was losing, and no one was winning.

The riders tried until the last minute to stay on their mounts, a huge advantage over the Orcs who had to raise their blades higher to reach them. But now, few horses had survived, or out of respect, the Rohirrim had driven them away to preserve them, and were now fighting foot to foot, sword to sword, guided by a king whose strength equalled his madness.

For many, even in the midst of the action, were wondering what was keeping their king on his feet. Even Aragorn had withdrawn slightly to save his strength. But Eomer remained at the front. Standing in the middle of a hollow in the battlefield, surrounded by his most loyal knights, he slashed blindly at the skulls, arms and legs of his enemies. His closest friends were well aware of what was tormenting him, but his tireless energy gave them courage. They too had to stand firm, despite the risk of sacrificing their own lives, to preserve the world of Men that had only just taken hold in Middle-earth.

Who knows what thoughts were racing through Éomer's mind? Were disappointment and anger giving way to grief? Was he still thinking about her, or had he wiped all happy memories from his mind, so that he would have no regrets if he left his life today?

Now only a miracle could save them. A miracle, or she could return from the underworld....