Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

Marshalling at Dunharrow

Aragorn and Théoden rode ahead of the army into the camp, the sounds of their horses' hooves echoing in the crisp air.

"Make way for the King! Make way, the King is here!" shouted a soldier, his voice rising above the murmur of the gathering men.

"My lord," called another soldier, bowing his head respectfully.

Théoden raised a hand in greeting, a faint smile touching his lips. "Hail to you, sire," another soldier added, the admiration clear in his tone.

"Grimbold, how many?" Théoden asked, his voice steady despite the weight of leadership pressing upon him.

"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my lord," Grimbold replied, his eyes shining with pride.

"We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Théoden King," another soldier chimed in, his voice filled with urgency.

Théoden's brow furrowed. "Where are the riders from Snowbourn?" he inquired, a note of concern creeping into his tone.

"None have come, my lord," a soldier responded, the grimness of the situation evident in his eyes.

As Aragorn and Théoden gazed down upon the assembled armies from their elevated position, Théoden's voice broke the silence. "Six thousand spears... less than half of what I had hoped for."

Aragorn nodded solemnly. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor," he stated, the weight of reality pressing heavily on them.

"More will come," Théoden assured, though doubt flickered in his eyes. "Liv did say she would reach out to her village to send shinobi."

Aragorn turned, his expression grave. "Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have until dawn, then we must ride," he said, his voice resolute.

Théoden nodded in agreement, the urgency of their situation clear to them both. Suddenly, a sharp neighing from the horses drew their attention.

The men struggled to calm the beasts, who seemed unnerved by some unseen presence. Amongst the chaos, Legolas, Gimli, Liv, David, and Haldir approached, their expressions grave as they surveyed the restless horses.

"The horses are restless, and the men are quiet," Legolas remarked, his keen senses picking up on the tension in the air.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Eomer added, his eyes scanning the horizon as he saddled his horse.

Gimli, ever curious, pointed to a darkened path winding through the landscape. "That road there, where does it lead?" he asked.

"It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain," Legolas replied, his voice low and somber.

"None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil," Eomer stated, shaking his head as he walked away, a man struggling to calm a frightened horse in the background.

Aragorn stared at the pathway, worry etched on his face. Just then, Gimli's voice broke through his thoughts. "Aragorn," he said, noticing the Ranger's distracted demeanor.

Startled, Aragorn turned. "Yes, let's find some food," he replied, his gaze still lingering on the ominous path. But when he looked back, the figure of the King of the Dead had vanished.

As Gimli led the way, a sudden rustle in a nearby tree caught their attention. A figure leapt down, landing lightly on the ground.

"Hey, cuz!" exclaimed Saya, Liv's cousin, her cheerful grin lighting up her face.

Liv jumped back in surprise. "Saya, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart.

"What took you so long anyway?" Liv asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.