Eredhel gazed out over the lush, green lands below. In the starlight it was peaceful, it was hard to believe they were only leagues away from the greatest war of their time. Her brow furrowed, she could not foresee the outcome of the coming days. Countless lives would be lost, of that she was sure. Who would be left once the final battle had been decided? Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, her brothers, it was unlikely that all of them would make it out alive. Trying to protect all of them was like trying to keep river water in her cupped hands. Varyor, the name given to her by her parents, a guardian, one who would watch over others. Her father had foreseen she would save many people, defending them against evil. The first person she had saved had been Elladan, he had nearly drowned in a river when they were younglings. Eredhel doubted he remembered it now, it had been so long ago. She had seen him slip below the surface of the water, and immediately went in after him. She had nearly suffered the same fate, but luckily managed to drag him to shore.
Elladan, Aragorn, the Rangers of the South, Glorfindel, even Gandalf once. Eredhel recited their names and many others, trying to make herself remember why she fought so hard, why she had to continue to fight so hard. But there was another list, one that was always on the forefront of her mind, the one which threatened to consume her. Ivoron, Celebrian, Boromir, many of her companions at the Battle of Fornost, the Rangers killed by the Wraiths, countless others that she had been unable to save. Eredhel inwardly groaned, cursing her thoughts for being so difficult to control. Looking around she realized that it had been quite a while since she left her friends and most of the camp was asleep.
"Legolas," she said, guessing that he was keeping watch.
"Yes melethin?" The name made her smile.
"Is Aragorn still awake?"
"Yes, he took rest a short while ago after you left us and I offered to take the watch. I thought you were simply retrieving a wineskin, where are you?"
"I am beneath the tree that faces east, away from where the men are resting." Less than a minute later he was standing above her, his pale skin contrasting the darkness around them. Legolas took a seat beside her, unsure of what to say. It frustrated him that he could not help her, could not understand the burden she carried, the responsibility she felt for those around her. Then it hit him, he could understand. The need to protect those around her was the same need he felt for her. Legolas had always put her safety before his own, it was instinctual. During the Battle of Five Armies he had always had his eyes on her, ready to send an arrow into the heart of an enemy she did not see. When his father had been angry with her, he had immediately went to her defense. When they had fled into the depths of Moria he had thrown himself over her to protect her from the rocks falling from above. But what if an orc had claimed her? What if she had faded? Now Legolas understood. To protect someone with everything you had, to fight so hard to keep them alive and then for them to die anyways. The feeling of loss of control and regret would be crippling.
Legolas shuddered, his hands clenching. "Are you afraid?" he asked quietly.
"No," she murmured. "Not for myself. I fear for others, and also for what will happen after the battle ends. If we are victorious it will be joyous, and yet, if we are not then surviving will be the greatest grievance of all."
"I know. Do you wish you had sailed?"
"Not at all, if I had then I would not be with you." Legolas couldn't help but smile at her simple response.
"And as selfish as it is, I am glad you did not sail as well. I have something to ask of you," he said hesitantly.
"Anything."
"Stay with me, when we reach Pelargir and Pelennor Fields. Please." Eredhel hesitated, fearing what he may do in a moment of desperation in battle.
"Im gwesto (I promise)," she answered, pushing the thought away. He leaned towards her and placed a kiss on her forehead. The sky soon turned a pale orange, indicating the sun was rise. It had barely crested over the hills when they heard Aragorn stirring behind them. They rose and gathered their things, knowing he would want to depart as soon as possible. He and the Dunedain woke at sunrise, immediately preparing to leave. Their rest had been short and yet their bones were less weary, for they were known for their endurance and could withstand great hardship. They gathered around Aragorn and Halbarad, awaiting their leader's instructions. Behind them the Dead stood, waiting in silence.
"A great host of Sauron's allies have gathered near the mouth of the Anduin. The Corsair ships will fly up the river, to reinforce the seige on Gondor," stated Aragorn.
"Yes, the elves foresaw it before we departed from the North," added Halbarad.
"The Haradrim are far more cunning than orcs, they trust their commanders and obey them without question. They are dangerous and will do great damage if they arrive before Minas Tirith."
"Why not ambush them?" suggested Eredhel and she began to pace. "They will not be expecting an attack before they reach the fields of Pelennor, they have probably been pillaging their way down the coast, we could catch them unawares. If we stop them we will both weaken Sauron's forces and also speed up our arrival to Minas Tirith."
"Yes," agreed Aragorn. "We could take them by surprise and commandeer their ships, then sail up the Anduin with the Haradrim banners flying. Sauron's forces would welcome the ships near Ithilien, we could weaken them from the South before marching towards the White City."
"Indeed, we would be able to scope out the battle before we landed. The ships would also allow us to transport the horses, as well as any reinforcements that we gather before we reach Pelargir. That reminds me," Halbarad turned and strode towards his horse, removing a long, cloth wrapped pole. He unfurled it before Aragorn, and the man's eyes widened. "The Lady Arwen sent it for you."
It was a banner of Gondor, a silver tree and stars embroidered on the black cloth. Aragorn ran his fingers over the fabric, a small smile brightening his face. "Hopefully the men of these lands will rally under the sigil of their country. Now, let us ride, for Gondor, for the fall of Mordor!" The men gave a cheer and mounted their horses, following Aragorn as he trotted down the hill. The Dead went behind them, their faces grim and eager. The men were quiet as they rode over the hills and through the valleys, each thinking of the task to come. In the towns they came to men gathered before them, pledging to follow the King of Gondor, he who rode under the White Tree. They gained bright eyed archers from the Black Vale, grim soldiers from Lebennin, cavalry from Lamedon as well as mercenaries and infantry. Finally they came to Pelargir, the port city lay in a great bay, its white walls shining in the afternoon sun. Waves crashed on the shore and seagulls circled overhead. Beside Eredhel, Legolas breathed in deeply, reveling in the sound and smell of the water.
"I now know why you spoke so fondly of the Grey Havens," he said, his eyes bright.
"Aye," agreed Elrohir from behind them. "Though I believe there is no time to enjoy the sight. Look." He pointed to a fleet of black sailed ships that were docked in the port. They were made of dark wood, built to be sleek and deadly. "They're going to burn the place down." Suddenly Aragorn called to the men, gaining their attention.
"We must reach the city, the Haradrim will burn it to the ground. We can take them in the streets, once the battle is done we will meet at the docks. Now begins the war for our home, for our people, for our freedom! Show them no mercy!" he exclaimed, raising his sword. The men gave shouts of approval and mirrored his movement. They rallied behind Aragorn and Halbarad, urging their horses down the hill. When they reached the Western Gate they found only two guards, who upon seeing the standard of Gondor immediately granted them entrance.
"My Lord, we are under attack. Over forty Corsair ships and several thousand pirates are assailing the city. Groups of them are looting and burning as they go," said one of them. Aragorn's brow furrowed, looking through the streets and at the smoke rising into the sky.
"We will divide our forces. Elladan and Elrohir, take the men from Lamedon and half of the Black Vale's archers, cover the northern part of the city. Eredhel, you and Legolas command the soldiers of Lebennin and the rest of the archers, take the streets to the south. Gimli and I will lead the Dunedain and the Army of the Dead through the central streets, straight towards the harbour. Be swift, for our main errand still lies before us!" They all nodded and seperated to gather their forces. Eredhel cast an uneasy look at the backs of her brothers but turned her attention to the men behind her.
"Ride them down!" she called, her voice gaining the same power it had held during the Council of the Ring. "They have come to reduce your world to ash, to take what they wish and leave the bones of your kin rotting in the dirt!" Her eyes turned dark as she drew her bow. With a nod to Legolas she urged Berenoch onwards, cantering through the wide stone streets of Pelargir. Soon they came within sight of a burning building and they could hear the harsh tongue of the Haradrim. The two elves each nocked arrows, their horses needing no guidance. As soon as they could see their enemies Eredhel and Legolas fired, their shots sinking into the pirates' necks. They shot a few more before they drew their blades, their dark skinned enemies now racing towards them. Eredhel hacked and slashed at the men around her, sending her sword through muscle and bone. Beside her Legolas wielded his knives, his movements so precise and quick that his opponents had no time to defend against his blows. The archers had taken to the rooftops and now shot any fleeing enemies. The soldiers of Lebennin moved with deadly force, their swords flashing in the sun.
They made their way through the city, taking each group of Haradrim by surprise and engaging them in battle. They were joined by soldiers of Pelargir along the way, who were often already fighting the Haradrim when Legolas and Eredhel's company arrived. The two elves would instruct their forces where to focus their attack, the soldiers would often sneak around to fence in their opponents while the archers took to the rooftops. Even though they were taken offguard, the pirates were still dangerous opponents. They were immensely tall, with corded muscles and curved swords and daggers. Their long black hair was braided, held back by rings of gold. They fought to the death, each kill only increasing the mad gleam in their eyes. Legolas and Eredhel's group was near the docks when they came across a particularily large gathering of their enemies. They were raiding a warehouse, but at the sound of pounding hooves ran outside into the streets. The two elves dismounted, sending their horses down a side alley to safety. Legolas climbed up the wall of a tavern and Eredhel soon followed him. They drew their bows and sent their arrows into many of the more menacing pirates. "You know, this is much more fun than the Battle of Five Armies!" said Legolas as he shot a burly swordsman and sent him toppling over one of his comrades.
"The odds are much more in our favour now than they were then!" answered Eredhel, shooting a manic pirate who had been advancing on one of the Lebennin captains. "Kill those runners!" she yelled to the archers on the roof across from them. Her eye was then caught by a movement to her right. Several Gondorian men were encircling a Haradhrim. The dark skinned man was huge, with bulging muscles in his chest and arms. His ornate, thick, braid and the many golden rings on his neck indicated he was of high rank, which for a Haradrim meant a deadly killer. Already eight of the men had fallen to his scimitar. He had been struck once, but the blood streaming from his shoulder did not seem to faze him. Legolas' gaze followed Eredhel's and his eyes widened. His attention was snapped back to the elleth when she took off towards the hulking pirate, sprinting along the rooftops.
"Eredhel!" the cry tore from Legolas' lips as he bolted after her. She leapt off the roof and rolled as she landed on the ground, immediately drawing her sword. As soon as she rose, enemies were already swarming around her. She dodged one man's blow and kicked him in the stomach before sending her blade into his heart. The fighting was thick but from what she could tell the Gondorian forces had the upper hand. She then saw her target to her right, throwing a knife at one of her archers. Eredhel raced towards him, slowing her breathing as she did so. This was not an enemy that would allow a mistake. The Haradrim noticed her when she was twenty feet from him and a deadly smile spread across his face as he spun his blade in anticipation. Eredhel swung as soon as she was within range of him, her sword clashing against his. He broke the contact and swung for her feet, and when she blocked his blow she knew why so many men had fallen. No normal mortal could defend against such sheer force, even Boromir would have been tested to withstand this Southron's strength. But the vitality of the elves was great and Eredhel quickly parried his attack. He then aimed for her neck and Eredhel ducked. They circled one another and continued to exchange blows. Eredhel could see the lust in his eyes, a lust for his enemies' blood.
On the other side of the street Legolas fought to get to the elleth. When he had leapt from the rooftop he had been surrounded by enemies and he was only just finishing them off. He saw Eredhel and her opponent furiously exchanging blows, their swords a blur. They locked blades, pushing against each other. But suddenly she gave a cry and stumbled, falling to the ground. Legolas immediately reached for an arrow, but to his horror they were all spent. His eyes flew to the bodies around him, desperately searching for one, just one, that was all he needed to save her. But the only ones he saw were broken and cracked. Legolas swore and started to run towards her, his stomach dropping when he saw the man reach for the elleth's throat.
Eredhel felt her opponent's hand close around her neck and lift her from the ground. The man wanted to squeeze the life out of her, feel her breathe her last breath. She could smell the heavy exotic oils on his skin and the metallic stench of blood that covered his armour. Already the pain in her leg from where his hidden knife had cut her was nothing compared the desperate burn in her lungs for air. She clawed at his hands but her attempt was futile, he did not even feel it. Then Eredhel remembered the wound in his shoulder. Just as her vision was beginning to blur she drove her heel into the gash, springing away from the Haradrim as his hold on her neck loosened. The man swore in his native tongue, grasping at his wound. Before he had time to recover Eredhel grabbed her sword from the ground, and drove it through his chest. He cried out in pain and reached toward her but as he did an arrow flew into his neck. He collapsed to the ground, dead. Eredhel looked around and saw Legolas running towards her, his bow drawn. "Reckless as usual," he growled, though his hands were gentle as they found the red welt on her neck. Around them the battle was coming to its end, the last remnants of the pirates being brought down by the forces of Gondor.
"He could've killed any number of our men," replied Eredhel, still breathing heavily. "The scum had a blade strapped to his wrist, he cut my thigh when our swords were locked," she explained. The wound was not deep, it had only been a means for the man to disarm her. Legolas was about to offer to bind it when one of the soldiers joined them.
"Commanders, we have killed the last of them. I think this was the last group, should we now meet my Lord Aragorn at the docks?" he asked.
"Yes," said Legolas. "Tell the men to gather the horses and we will join our other forces."
"Very well, my Lord," the man inclined his head and took his leave.
"I'll go find Berenoch and Arod, I have some bandages in my saddlebags. I believe you might want to retrieve some arrows," she raised her eyebrows at his empty quiver.
"Yes, well my last one was spent for a just cause," he answered with a chuckle. "I will return any of yours that I find." Eredhel smiled at him and he watched her walk towards the alley their horses had ran down. After a moment he sighed, and began his search for arrows. It took him twenty minutes to search all the bodies of the fallen. They had lost quite a few of their men but overall had not suffered too many casualties. Legolas found many of his arrows still in tact, and knew that he had another larger, full, quiver attached to Arod's saddle. He also found several of Eredhel's, though less than his own because she had fought more with her sword in the close confines of the street. When he joined the soldiers and archers he saw that Eredhel had returned with the two horses, and sat atop Berenoch at the head of the group. He joined her and passed her her arrows with a smile, the elleth taking them gratefully.
When they arrived at the harbour they saw that they were the second of the three forces to arrive, as Elladan and Elrohir were standing alone at the front of their company. Legolas and Eredhel joined the twins and Elladan voiced what each of them were thinking. "Where is Aragorn?"
"He is most likely almost here, I predict that the main streets were the most heavily pillaged," answered Eredhel.
"Should we go in search of him?" suggested Elrohir. There were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats coming towards them. Moments later the Dunedain, the Army of the Dead and many Pelargir men came into view, with Aragorn, Gimli and Halbarad leading them. The Dead lingered in the shadows of the streets, as Aragorn was not yet ready to reveal them to their enemies aboard the ships.
"Blast it lad, the pointy ears got here before us!" They heard Gimli exclaim and Eredhel saw Legolas grin smugly as he called to the dwarf.
"Honestly Gimli, are the feet of the dwarves lined with lead?" he prodded. His friend growled as they came to a halt beside the others, glaring at the elf from beneath his bushy eyebrows.
"We fought double the number that you did, you're lucky we didn't count this battle in our competition efling." Aragorn chuckled at his friends' banter before his eyes found Eredhel's injured thigh.
"What happened?"
"Do you remember the captains we fought in Umbar?" she asked.
"Yes, but I-ohhh I see." He nodded in understanding, remembering the many ways the wicked men found to undermine their opponents.
"It's nothing, it will have healed by tomorrow."
"Very well, then I suppose we should turn our attention to our main task," he turned to gaze at the fleet of ships. By now their group had gathered attention from the crews of the vessels. One of the commanders came to the bow of the ship closest to the dock, lazily leaning against the hilt of his sword. He had a long, thick, beard and black armour gleamed from his chest.
"Let's have their heads and get moving," said Gimli from beside Aragorn. The man gazed at the Haradrim leader thoughtfully, before turning to the elves.
"Eredhel, Legolas, be ready." They both nodded and fitted arrows to their strings as their friend called to the commander.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn said, his voice rising over the wind. "I am the heir of Isildur, and rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. You have committed great crimes in this city, and your men have paid with their lives. I will give you the chance to surrender or we will engage your remaining warriors and take you by force. What have you to say?" The men on the ships jeered and laughed, their commander joining them. When he spoke his accent was heavy and he ran his fingers alone the length of his blade.
"I answer to no man of Gondor, be he a peasant on the street or the King of the White City." He spit into the water and continued. "The Dark Lord is the only one to rule this earth and we will lie dead before be bend to the whim of any son of Gondor! You do not have the strength to overcome us!" His men yelled in support of his words and Aragorn shook his head.
"I'll give them one last chance. Legolas, fire a warning shot past the commander's ear." The blond elf nodded but just as he was about to release his arrow, Gimli knocked the bottom of his bow, sending his shot straight into the man's shoulder. He swore and his second in command aimed his own weapon at the blond elf, but a second later Eredhel's arrow was sinking into his stomach. Aragorn sighed in exasperation but Gimli clapped him on the shoulder.
"Oh come on laddie, you know they weren't going to give in without a fight. Let us show them our metal!" Aragorn rolled his eyes and raised his sword, signalling for his men to charge onto the ships. The Army of the Dead leapt from the shadows, racing towards the Corsair fleet. The Haradrim drew back in terror at the sight of the ghosts, many of them leaping over the sides of their boats into the water. The Dead swept through the fleet, spreading fear and confusion amongst their enemies. Aragorn's forces followed, striking down any of the Southrons brave enough to withstand the spirits. The four elves fought together, their blades shining as they claimed their enemies.
Finally they cleared the last ship and the fleet was theirs. They loaded on weapons, horses and armour, everything they would need for the battle. All of the men marched onto the ships, until only their commanders remained ashore, standing before the Army of the Dead. "Will you grant us rest now that we have fulfilled our oaths?" demanded the King. Aragorn was silent for a moment and before he could reply, Gimli tugged at his arm.
"I say we make them come with us to the White City. They're awfully handy in a tight pinch!" Aragorn looked down at the dwarf sadly, patting him on the shoulder. It was true that they would miss the army's help, but he could not allow himself to go back on his word.
"Nay Gimli, they kept their word so I shall keep mine. Go," he said, "I hold your oath fulfilled, you may be at peace." The King sighed, closing his eyes as he and his men dissipated, disappearing into the wind like smoke. The commanders' eyes now turned to their fleet, and to the city they knew lay in the distance. "So once again we go to war. To the one that shall either free our world, or end it."