Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 45 - Before the Dawn

Before they saw Minas Ithil, they saw the glow of fires burning, smelt the smoke rising in the night air, and heard the roaring bellow of an enraged Mûmak. The forces of Gondor rounded the entrance to the Vale of the Moon to find a scene of utter destruction awaiting them.

Whatever progress that the last year had wrought in the reconstruction of Minas Ithil, it had all been undone by crude battering rams, catapults and ballistas which the Easterlings had brought with them out of the east. The city's walls seemed more rubble than ring, with piles of white stone crumbling into the stream on all sides. Fires burned at random within the circles of Minas Ithil, their flames casting tall orange shadows onto the faces of the Morgai mountains. The Tower of the Moon still stood, but from a distance it was impossible to tell whether it was still held by Elboron and Eruthiawen's folk. The flag of Gondor still flew from its highest turret though, defiant even as the smoke curled around it.

Even more chaotic than the city was the vale which lay before it. The army of Rhûn had lost all semblance of rank and order, and everywhere the dark shapes of trampled bodies could be seen littering the ground. They scattered and scrambled like minnows in shallow water, and in their midst loomed Gïdjls, thrashing and raging more furiously than a landed shark. Gïdjls' legs, flanks, and face bristled with short black arrows, and the young Mûmak's roars of outrage shook the very air. With every maddened swing of his tusks, Gïdjls sent at least half a dozen Easterlings flying. The howdah on his back - not designed for proper warfare - swayed precariously every which way Gïdjls turned. Still arrows continued to pelt the poor beast, as well as the occasional spear from a surviving ballista.

"Aragorn?"

Faramir looked to Aragorn urgently, as did Éowyn. Both had their swords out and at the ready by their sides. Eldarion imagined they would be halfway to the city gate before his father even finished the order to attack. Legolas too had an arrow already fitted to his bow. With a deep breath, Eldarion drew Tegil from its sheath. The sharp ring of steel provoked a sudden memory of the blade hitting the Black House's stone floor. Eldarion thrust the memory aside as forcefully as it had arisen. He was needed, here and now.

With less than a few seconds to deliberate, Aragorn laid his plans and gave the order. "Faramir, Éowyn, take the knights of Ithilien and three companies of soldiers along the valley's edge and around into the city. Make safe the Citadel of Night with all haste. Eldarion, Malbeth, Ohtar, you and your men with me. We will crush these villains between our swords and the city walls. Malbeth, sound the charge!"

Sure enough, the banners of Ithilien were on the move even before the first blast of Gondor's horns could fade. Éowyn lifted Witchbane overhead, its blade flashing pale in the starlight.

"To me! To me! Those in the citadel can wait no longer!"

Éowyn took off at a gallop, Faramir less than a stride behind her. Their folk were quick to follow, and as they split off from the rest of the army they cried "To the White Lady!"

Legolas remained where he was, flanking Aragorn opposite Eldarion. With Ohtar and Malbeth signaling the charge to their remaining men, they urged their horses onward into the valley.

Between the clear ringing of the horns and the thunder of two thousand horses, the already disorganized army of Rhûn had all it could manage in rushing to meet the charge. Gïdjls continued to rampage behind their lines, spreading chaos and carnage wherever his enormous feet fell. So it was that the forces of Ithilien passed all but unhindered around the edge of the battlefield.

Eldarion could spare only a moment to take heart as Éowyn and Faramir rushed to Elboron and Eruthiawen's aid. Not entirely without order, Easterlings were dropping to one knee and presenting their barbed pikes before the charging army. Greyhame snorted beneath Eldarion, his black mane flying. Eldarion could see his father and Legolas leading the charge beside him out the corner of his helmet's visor. The rush of his own breathing echoed in his ears, blocking out even the din of Gïdjls' roars. The ground flew past beneath the horses' hooves...then was abruptly replaced by a sea of Rhûnic armor and pikes in the instant before the two armies met.