The Crownless Again Shall Be King

Chapter 12- The Fields of Pelennor

Chapter 12- The Fields of Pelennor

It was around nine in the morning when our ships sailed into harbor. Along the shoreline lingered an army of grotesque orcs and other low creatures. Their weapons were sharp and their armor still red from battle.  The crumbling City alongside the River was smoldering and the bodies of the dead piled outside the houses.

Behind the small town stood Minas Tirith: her buildings crumbled and towers broken. Smoke clouded the sky above the White City, and fires danced and lapped at her walls. In the distance I could see large Oliphant charging into what appeared to be Rohan's ranks.

My stomach tied into knots as I gripped my blades tighter.

I hope Merry, Pippin and Faramir are safe.

"Late as usual!" I heard one of the Orcs huff as he pushed himself to the front of the lines. "Pirate scum!' he wore the heads of several fallen comrades as a sort of crown upton his ugly, fleshy head. A jagged scar ran down his right temple and across the cheek of his left. He was a disgusting and vile edition to Mordor's team. "There's knife work to be done here!'

"Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!" someone yelled. 

I exchanged a look with my brother.

His soft hazel eyes sparked with anticipation. "Together." He said.

"Together," I echoed.

Aragorn growled and then hurtled the side of the ship landing firmly on the dock. Gimli, Legolas and I followed, landing softly beside my brother.  Aragorn held his Sword in his hand, smiling softly as the four of us slowly approached the Orcs.

Gimli gripped his axe, "There's plenty for the both of us!" he growled to Legolas. "May the best Dwarf win!"

Legolas nodded at them cockily, notching an arrow to his bowstring.

I sent a prayer up to the Valar, hoping they didn't hate me and with a glance at Legolas, I followed the set pattern and charged. With a ghostly whoosh, the Ghost King and his army rolled in behind us like a deadly fog. I watched as the faces of our enemies turned to that of repulsion and horror- only to dissipate with their lives a moment later.

We charged into the ranks and onto the Plains ahead where the real battle was raging. I sliced my blades across the chest of an Orc, feeling satisfaction as he fell to the ground with the rest of my kills. "Seventeen!" I counted, finally joining in on Legolas and Gimli's game.

Legolas was ahead of me several yards, firing his steel-tipped arrows into the Enemy lines. Each arrow he fired caused immediate death. "Sixteen!" he counted, firing another arrow. "Seventeen!"

"Eighteen!' thundered Gimli somewhere nearby.

An Orc came at me with his axe raised high and I dropped down as his blade swept over where my head had been only seconds before. "You missed," I smirked, thrusting one of my blades into his neck. "Unfortunately for you, I don't miss." I hissed as the Orc sputtered.

I watch as the life left his eyes and he fell backward limply.

I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen as an enemy arrow grazed my hip; my leather breastplate failing to protect me. I swore bitterly, cursing whomever had dared to fire an arrow at me.

I spun around decapitating an approaching Orc, cringing as his blood splattered across my arms. "Rayel!" my brother snapped, jerking my attention away from my hands and toward the battle where my Companions had already run ahead.

I followed of course, trying to avoid the sharp pain in my torso.

That's when I say him.

Or should I say it.