The past is already written.
The ink is dry.
But the future remains unset and the Valar have begun to sing a song anew.
Gondor is a kingless state falling into ruin against the Shadow of Mordor. Doomed to fail and forsaken by Men and...
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A map of Middle Earth was splayed out upon one of the tables in the Great Hall, next to it was a more intricate rendering of Gondor and the surrounding lands. Small pawns were scattered along the edge of the map, white stone for Gondor and black stone for the enemy, each one represented more than a hundred men.
Hushed mummers spread through the gathered officials as the small group of scouting rangers entered the Great Hall with the latest news of the enemy's advancement. The ranger, Madril, placed the black pawns within the borders of Haradwaith.
Aeardis listened closely to the reported size and location of the army as she paced around the table, taking note of how quickly they were marching and the weaponry they carried.
One of the captains present laid out his plan, a simple defensive line that had worked many times in the past to keep the Southron invaders at bay, yet every time it came with a great cost to the Gondorian army. Ohtar moved the white pawns to the border of Gondor, most along the river Anduin.
"What do you think of this, Aeardis?" It was her first time devising a strategy for a situation such as this, most of her efforts were concentrated around Ithilien and Osgiliath, never had she thought through a plan that would take lives that were not Orcs and other foul creatures.
She pursed her lips for a moment and braced her hands on the table, glancing up at some of the soldiers, her father, and Boromir. After a moment she nodded, though it was not entirely convincing. "It would work," she answered, "yet the death toll would be greater than I care to think of." Aeardis stepped back and paced around the table, contemplating the best line of defense.
The Haradrim could not be allowed to cross into Lossarnach during this time of year else they would lay waste to the farmland and crops and come winter Minas Tirith and its surrounding lands would be deep into a famine. "We should try to cut off their army before they can reach South Ithilien," she finally spoke and the council hung off her every word. "Divide them. It will minimize the loss on our part and shorten the battle."
Hirluin straightened his back and looked down a hooked nose that had been broken one too many times at Aeardis, she was only a girl of twenty, after all, still a virgin to witnessing the horrors of battle. "How do you suppose we do that?" The captain inquired with no small amount of contempt.
"The Fords of Poros," she answered, moving only a handful of the Gondorian pawns to the ford near the mountains of Ephel Dúath. "We can temporarily dam the river and open the floodgates while they are crossing." The river was not nearly on the scale of the Anduin, oft times after the winter melt it would dam itself with sediment washing down from the mountains.
"How long would it take to do this?" Aeardis thought it had been her father that had asked, but she could not be sure. It had been years since she had even caught a brief glimpse of the Fords upon her passage into the Gondor.
