(PTII)Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 4)

Chapter 29: Aftermath

"Minas Tirith repelled the attack," Khamul said, voice trembling with barely controlled hate. "The Gondorians were victorious."

Zaskia's eyes widened. "How? How is that possible?"

"A self-proclaimed 'king' from the north summoned an army of undead wraiths, it would seem."

Zaskia laughed incredulously. "And I'm an elf."

Khamul shoved the parchment at her. "Read it yourself."

She took a moment, not entirely believing what it said until she saw the signature at the bottom.

"The Mouth himself wrote this. It must be real."

Khamul nodded. "Disaster has befallen us."

Zaskia shook her head. "Not necessarily. I received word from my spies that the One comes ever closer to our Master. Even now it lies within his reach. And when it lies upon his finger once more... None will stand in our path."

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Two Days Later - Battle Camp Outside Erebor

"We must move quickly," Gerithor insisted, pointing to Dol Guldur on the map. His torso was bandaged tightly, making it somewhat difficult for him to make the gesture. "They can't have many more soldiers left. With Prince Rukil's men we could storm the castle and take it."

Rukil sat up from his bed slowly. "I agree, though I fear I will not personally be able to accompany you. Hadar will be in charge."

Glorfindel shook his head. "Slow down. We were barely successful here. What makes you think we could win on the offensive? Our men are tired, and many of them (the two of you included) are injured. We need time to recover."

Gerithor gave the elf a meaningful glance. "What time do you think we have? We do not yet know what has taken place to the south. Sauron's forces could be marching north as we speak. We must strike before they have a chance to reorganize."

Just then a ranger entered the room and quickly strode to Gerithor. The two spoke in hushed voices for a moment and then the ranger exited as abruptly as he had entered.

"What was that all about?" Gloin, who had until now been silent, inquired.

"A messenger has come from the south, as well as one from the Iron Hills. Both bear good tidings from the sound of it," Gerithor replied, nodding to the guard at the tent's entrance. A moment later a young ranger entered, his clothing covered with dust from what had clearly been a hasty ride. His blonde hair was unkempt and ruffled, his clean-shaven face flushed with fatigue.

"Alif!" Gerithor exclaimed, smiling and moving to embrace the younger man. Alif clapped Gerithor on the back and grinned widely.

"It is good to see you alive, uncle," Alif beamed.

"What news do you bring?" Gerithor prodded, motioning for his nephew to take a seat.

"Well... I would say some of it is good while some ill," Alif replied, growing serious. "The attack on Minas Tirith was repelled. Lord Aragorn managed to stir up an undead army in the mountains against Sauron. It was quite a sight! Few of the Dark Lord's minions survived, and those that did were reported to have fled back into Mordor."

"And I say good riddance to that, lad!" Gloin chimed in. "Where's the ill news, then?"

Alif looked down for a moment, seeming to gather his courage to speak. "Halbarad... He and the rest of the Grey Company... They did not make it. I am sorry uncle, to be the bearer of such tidings."

Gerithor nodded slowly. It wasn't that he was unaffected by the news, but he felt strangely numb to it. He had lost so many people at this point that it was almost as if he were growing used to it. Even hearing of Caledorn and Taliel's deaths hadn't affected him as much as he thought they should have.

"They will be greatly missed," he replied. He had known most of the rangers who had rode with Halbarad. He had been close with some of them. "They were valiant warriors all."

After a moment of reverent silence, Alif continued. "Lord Aragorn has mustered the armies of Rohan and Gondor and plans to lead an attack on the Black Gate."

Glorfindel rose from his seat in astonishment. "Is he mad??? Sauron would have still kept most of his army in reserve. They march to their deaths!"

Alif shook his head emphatically. "No, m'lord. Aragorn does not plan to win. He wishes to buy time."

A look of realization dawned on Glorfindel's face. "I see now. Then you are right, Gerithor. We must march on Dol Guldur with what strength we have."

"You might want to speak with the other messenger as well," Alif added. "I spoke with him at length outside."

"Bring the other messenger in," Gerithor called to the guard. He nodded and a moment later a stocky dwarf clad in leather armor strode in.

"Buli, at your service," he said with a sweeping bow.

"Gerithor, Glorfindel, Gloin, and Prince Rukil at yours," Gerithor replied as they each bowed in turn.

"My lord, Thorin III Stonehelm, marches west with a thousand axes. I see now that the battle is over. Do you still wish for his aid?" The dwarf watched Gerithor expectantly.

"Aye, whatever aid he can lend would be greatly appreciated," Gerithor replied, smiling slightly. "We plan to march on the enemy stronghold of Dol Guldur."

The dwarf gave a curt nod. "Then we shall be more than willing to march with you."

Glorfindel rose an eyebrow and gave Gerithor a wan smile. "It would seem, Gerithor, that you have your army."

Hey yall! I hope everyone's doing good, I know finals and tests and stuff are going on for alot of you so I wish you the best of luck with those!

As this story draws near its end, I just wanted to thank those of you who have read all the way through. It's been a long journey (with more than a couple really long breaks) and I'm sure some of you questioned if I'd even get around to finishing this. Thank you for the encouragement and comments, those are what kept me going. :)

Translations:

Ya'wa uno su'chama na'ar- Roughly translates to "I wonder who's winning the battle"(Haradic)

Ger no'a?- "Who knows?" Or "I don't know" (Haradic)

idh di sidh, hanar nin - Rest in peace, my brother (Sindarin)