Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 44 - In the Hands of the Valar

Smoke was rising from Minas Ithil. The Vale of the Moon was less than three hours ride from the Great Gate of Minas Tirith, and even from the crossing at Osgiliath the sounds of battle could faintly be heard in the distance. The army of Gondor simply could not get to Minas Ithil fast enough. The Great Bridge of Osgiliath could only hold so many at a time, and the two and a half thousand men which Minas Tirith had been able to assemble in the space of an afternoon were forced into a funnel as they passed over the Anduin. Every moment spent watching and waiting for the bulk of their forces to make the crossing was pure, unfiltered agony for Aragorn, Eldarion, Faramir, Éowyn, and everyone else who loved someone in the Vale. But wait they must; only as a single, organized force could they successfully attack an Easterling army. 

The Haradrim had no such limitations upon them. With the help of Gïdjls' enormous height, they simply forded the mighty river, crossing from west bank to east at the northern end of the city where the Anduin ran shallow.  The Mûmak circled around to where Aragorn and the others were mustering the army, and Sufyan called down to them. 

"We can ride ahead and bring an early ally to Minas Ithil? Gïdjls could have us there within the hour." 

"Please!" Faramir cried out, clearly relieved at the thought of a mighty Oliphant going to Elboron and Eruthiawen's aid. 

"No, Sufyan. Stay." 

Faramir and Éowyn both spun about in the saddle to gape at Aragorn, consternation written all over their faces. 

"Why not?!" exclaimed Éowyn. The once-Shieldmaiden of Rohan, though closer to sixty years than fifty, rode resplendent and ready for battle. She wore a shirt of mail over leather, and carried her faithful sword Witchbane at her side. Her white-gold hair - tied haphazardly in a knot at the nape of her neck - marked the White Lady out easily for all to see. Éowyn's presence had inspired quite a few cheers when first the army left Minas Tirith; even thirty years later, her legend remained undiminished. Lesser men might have quailed before the intensity with which Éowyn stared at Aragorn. "Elboron and what few soldiers Minas Ithil has cannot hold their defenses for long. The timely arrival of a Mûmak might be the difference between life and death for them!" 

"A single Mûmak, Éowyn, against however many hundreds or even thousands of Easterlings that Rhûn has managed to marshal. Sufyan and his folk would become the single target of an entire army. Surely even the Haradrim cannot stand alone against such odds," said Aragorn grimly.  

"Neither can a half-built city, guarded by only a few hundred men," pointed out Faramir. "Aragorn, forgive me, but your daughter is in that tower too. We must not hold back, not with so much at stake!"

Legolas frowned, his too-straight posture on Arod's back giving away the elf's own concern. "The risk is great, to divide our forces and send any one warrior ahead alone. Even one so mighty as Gïdjls." 

"The army is almost across," pointed out Ohtar. "We'll be on the move again in minutes. The Haradrim would not fight alone for long." 

Eldarion was torn. Greyhame shifted uneasily beneath him, and Eldarion absentmindedly patted his neck. Even now, the presence of Mûmakil still made the stallion nervous. What to advise his father? His heart agreed with Éowyn and Faramir that any aid which could go to Elboron and Eruthiawen ought to be sent ahead with all haste. It was the most basic of military laws though; a divided force is a weakened force. If Sufyan and his folk were to ride ahead alone, could they possibly be expected to hold out long against the Easterlings, even if their arrival did bring much-needed relief to the besieged city? From a certain point of view, it was almost a weighing of Sufyan's life against Elboron and Eruthiawen's. Eldarion found he could not judge such a decision, but as king and leader of the army, Aragorn had no such freedom to abstain.