OoOoO
The two armies of East and West passed a quiet if uneasy night, their watchmen eyeing one another across the trampled vastness between them. Clearing the field of the dead and the wounded had been a grisly task. Now the stage was once again a blank slate, awaiting another day of battle to bloody it.
Spirits were high though among the Men of the West as the pale Rhûnic sun rose. The previous day's success granted them much in the way of courage, and that did not exclude Eldarion, Elboron and Elfwine. The three young men bantered together as they saddled their horses and strapped on their armor.
"Take care today Elfwine, lest you inflict any more damage on that fair face of yours." Elboron was saying.
He and Eldarion had spent much of the previous evening assisting Aragorn with the care and tending of the wounded. Eldarion caught Elboron stifling a yawn with a teasing grin thrown in Elfwine's direction.
Elfwine snorted, giving the dent in his recovered helm one last tap before jamming it onto his head. Éomer lingered nearby, preparing his own gear while also making an admirable attempt at not obviously hovering.
"You could help with that cause by not finding your way into any more tight spots!" Elfwine swung up into the saddle with an easy grace that only a born and bred horseman could have managed...or perhaps an elf. "Let us all be agreed; no rescues needed today?"
"No rescues." Eldarion nodded fervently.
Gimli appeared from around Arod's flank. The dwarf wagged a finger at them, leaning an elbow on his battle axe. "Nothing's guaranteed in a fight, lads. There's no shame in needing a hand in a tight spot. Am I right Legolas?"
A head of golden hair straightened up into sight across Arod's back, bringing with it Legolas's usual placid smile. "Even the mightiest warriors need someone to protect their backs, as you and I well know, mellon-nin." The elf turned his gaze on Gimli, who shrugged nonchalantly but looked pleased all the same.
"You don't exactly make watching your back easy, laddie. When you go crawling all over those Oliphants, for example! You're more reckless than Aragorn and Éomer were fretting these three might be!"
"I take no risks that I do not fully expect to end well, Gimli." Now it was Legolas's turn to shrug in the face of his friend's good-natured scolding. "Perhaps your old age is making you more cautious?"
"My old age?! Now listen here you pointy-eared relic!"
Eldarion, Elboron and Elfwine all joined in laughing at Gimli went stumping off to give Legolas a piece of his mind. The soldiers around them likewise grinned and shook their heads, well used to the unusual friendship between dwarf and elf. The odd pair was actually something of an army legend, both for their banter as well as their fighting prowess.
"Did you hear that?" Eldarion caught his father's eye from a distance and likewise climbed up onto Greyhame's back. The time was nigh for battle to rejoin. "Our fathers actually expected us to be more reckless?"
Elfwine raised an eyebrow, making the edge of the bandage on his brow peek out at the edge of one eyehole. "Perhaps yours did; King Aragorn is after all the one who led but a few thousand Men of the West to confront sixty-thousand orcs at the Battle of the Black Gate. You have to admit, it is hard to get more reckless than that!"
"Yes, but you also must admit that the gamble paid off." Eldarion replied, feeling a tiny bit defensive.
"Timing was very much their ally then." The army around them started to move at a command from Aragorn and Éomer, and Elboron finally mounted up on his own mare. "If the One Ring hadn't been destroyed, the outcome could have been very different."
"Your point being?" Eldarion asked.
Elboron had to raise his voice a little bit as the rumble of hooves rose from the assembling army. "Only that recklessness has a time and a place. Just like Legolas said, risks must be calculated."
"And then seized upon!"
Elfwine ended their little discussion with a throaty exclamation, pulling his axe off his back and giving it a twirl. The curved blade whizzed in midair, making the horse of the rider next to him flatten its ears. Then the prince of Rohan urged his own mount forward. This horse was a chestnut gelding, his usual roan charger excused from the day's clash on account of a wounded shoulder from yesterday's little 'incident'. Elboron rolled his eyes, making Eldarion chuckle. Sometimes Éomer and Éowyn's sons could be such dramatic opposites in personality, despite being cousins by blood.
As the cavalry of Rohan and Gondor organized themselves into their ranks with the kings at the head, Eldarion and Elboron made their way to Aragorn's side. Aragorn greeted Eldarion with a nod and a reassuring smile. Eldarion knew that Elfwine was only teasing, but he couldn't help wondering; did his father perhaps expect a little more daring from him? Yesterday had felt chaotic enough as it was!
"How are you feeling?" Aragorn spoke to both of them, his voice a murmur over the rumble of the army behind them.
"Less anxious than yesterday, Adar." Eldarion swallowed down the tiny ball of nerves in his throat and managed a smile. With the battlefield awaiting between them and the Sea of Rhûn it was hard to be entirely relaxed.
A brief smile flashed across Aragorn's noble, lined faced. "It does get better with each battle, that much I can assure you. And you, Elboron?"
Elboron called back across Eldarion, reining up his horse to keep abreast of the king. "Well enough, my lord. As Eldarion said, I think the first battle is likely the worst."
"You would be surprised." Aragorn said, sounding almost grim. For a moment the King of Gondor rode silently, caught up in a memory. Then he shook himself and spoke again. "I overhead what Gimli told you, and I wholeheartedly second it. You are never too mighty a warrior not to need a friend at your back. So heed what I told you yesterday; stay close together, and if you should need help you need only call and we will come."
"Yes Adar."
"Yes my lord."
Satisfied, Aragorn nodded. Then he turned his attention away and to the dark swath of the Men of the East across the field on the shores of the inland sea. Éomer led the Rohirrim around to the vanguard, their gold and green banners fluttering in the muted breeze. With the Sea of Rhûn at their backs, Eldarion thought this smacked of something of a last stand for the Men of the East. Knowing that they had the upper hand here strengthened his courage, and he felt a thrill rush through his veins when the horns of Gondor sounded in chorus with those of Rohan. With Elboron to his right, his father to his left and the Men of the West at his back, Eldarion was unafraid.
And then the charge was sounded. Once again they were flying down the field, the ground passing beneath their horses' hooves so fast it was a grey blur. Wind rushed through Eldarion's hair and ears, making his eyes water at the strength of it. Greyhame surged beneath him, and then it began.
Expecting the spears of the Easterlings this time, Eldarion urged Greyhame into the jump. They cleared the vanguard, spear-tips scraping against Greyhame's chest guard and Eldarion's pauldrons. Rather than swing haphazardly at anything he could reach, now Eldarion kept his wits about him. His sword thrusts were precise, picking targets such as a flash of skin between helmet and shoulder plates. The Rohirrim war-cries rose high and echoed throughout the valley, emboldening all who heard them.
Eldarion caught sight of Elboron nearby, and was surprised to see the heir of Ithilien had adapted a new strategy. Rather than stay in one place, allowing enemies to cluster around him, Elboron was attempting something that could only be called 'hit and run'. Leaning slightly to one side with his sword angled just so, Elboron would ride in a wide arc past the edge of where the Easterlings were gathered thickest. Eldarion realized that Elboron was mimicking what Aragorn had done yesterday; beheading enemies even as he rode past, just beyond reached of their short knives. Never did Elboron stay still long enough for the Easterlings to surround him. Eldarion grinned fiercely. Then an Easterling's knife glanced off his shin guards and he was pulled back into the here and now.
A loud whoop cut the air, and Eldarion looked up just in time to see Hama cheer as Éomer smashed right through a cluster of Easterlings. Eldarion was amazed both at the horse's sheer power and the balance of the King of Rohan to not be unhorsed by such a maneuver. He too let out a congratulatory cheer, raising his sword in the air. That moment of paying attention to the skyline was all that Eldarion needed though to realize something; where were the Mûmakil?
Turning Greyhame about on the spot, Eldarion scanned the battlefield. No Mûmakil anywhere, nor Haradrim at all for that matter. There were only Easterlings, un-mounted and bristling like hedgehogs in their sharp-edged yellow armor. With no Mûmakil to keep the Men of the West's lines broken up, Eldarion realized that the Easterlings were being cut down everywhere he looked. He also realized that between the twin armies of Rohan and Gondor, the center of the Easterling forces was thinning.
Seized by a sudden bold, maybe even reckless idea, Eldarion shouted to the nearest Gondorian standard bearer.
"You there, with me!" He twisted in the saddle to call over his other shoulder. "Elboron, Elfwine!"
Following Eldarion's outstretched finger, Elboron realized what he intended just in time to shout for Elfwine once more. Rather than seek out a standard bearer of Rohan, Elfwine slid hard over in the saddle and caught up a fallen flag of the Riddermark himself. With the black and white of Gondor and the green and gold of Gondor fluttering high overhead, they charged straight and hard for the thinning at the heart of the Easterling army.
"FOR GONDOR!" Eldarion shouted, his own voice ringing so loud it hurt his throat.
"FOR ROHAN!"
Elfwine's bellow was deep and throaty enough to catch the attention of anyone in the immediate vicinity who might on the off chance have missed Eldarion's rallying cry. Everyone else could only have been deaf and blind to miss such a charge.
"Eldarion!"
Aragorn shouted after the backs of the youths, caught by surprise by their sudden initiative. He tried to bring Brego around, but the old horse couldn't quite maneuver fast enough to get around the thicket of Easterlings Aragorn had been 'tending to'. A feeling of black helplessness bubbled up as the boys and their standards got further away.
"We're on their tail lad!" Aragorn heard a familiar and very welcome shout. "You worry about your own fight."
A white horse that Aragorn could have recognized anywhere came arrowing seemingly out of nowhere from the thick of the melee. Under the sure, instinctive guidance of Legolas, Arod gave chase to Eldarion, Elboron and Elfwine. They weren't the only ones either; dozens of Gondorian knights and Rohirrim, hearing the charge, were hot on their heels. Aragorn's frustration was warmed by a tentative wash of pride as he watched the Men of the West answer their princes' rallying calls. Then he had to catch a jabbing Easterling spear with his hand to avoid being impaled. Legolas and Gimli were with Eldarion and the others, and Aragorn knew he would trust his friends with anything, up to and including the lives of his children.
On every side Easterlings tried and failed to block Eldarion, Elboron, Elfwine and those who followed them. They broke through the Men of the East like a thunderclap, trampling their enemies wherever they tried to cut them off. Eldarion's heart thundered in his ears, and sweat trickled down the side of his brow. He could hear Greyhame's snorting breaths beneath him as the horse ran full-out. The press of their enemies all around them was enormous. They had to keep going; if they slowed for even a moment they would be crushed and pulled from their horses. Eldarion swung his sword in a wide arc before him, trying to clear the way. They had reached the tipping point; here the Easterling forces were at their strongest and most vulnerable both at once.
And then, suddenly, like breaking through a glass window, the Easterlings before them fell away, unable to hold back the horses with their slender, barbed spears. There were fewer and fewer Easterlings in front of him with each fall of Greyhame's hooves. Then there were none at all.
Reining up their horses, Eldarion and the others turned to look back. They were shocked to see Gondorians and Rohirrim pouring through the break in the Easterling lines behind them like water through a shattered dam. Pierced through the center and now cut off into two separate forces, the Easterlings were already beginning to panic. Now the men of Rhûn fought with desperation, trying only to take as many foes with them as they could. Several Easterlings rushed Eldarion head-on, their spears leading their retreat from the back of the army. Elfwine's axe disposed of one before they even reached Eldarion, where he and Elboron were waiting to finish them.
As fleeing Easterlings streamed past, a disbursing army of black ants, Eldarion looked over to Elboron and Elfwine in disbelief. Their charge had succeeded? A similar shock and growing excitement was reflected back at him in his friends' eyes. Elboron pulled off his helmet, sweaty gold curls falling about his brow as he looked around them. They stood like stones in a river that flowed around them in full eastern retreat.
With a whoop, Elfwine stood upright in the stirrups and thrust the banner of Rohan to the sky. A cheer began in the soldiers closest to them, and then began to grow. It echoed outward and backward through the army, building in volume and timber as the Men of the West came to realize that the battle was won. The enemy lines had broken.
"Eldarion, we did it! We did it!" Elboron leapt down off his mare, dropping his helmet in his excitement. Eldarion barely had a chance to dismount before Elboron had him caught up in a hug of pure exhilaration.
"How's that for nerve?!" Elfwine came crashing into their backs, nearly bowling the two of them over. "No rescues needed today, right Elboron?"
The three young men were so caught up in their celebrations that that they almost didn't notice the swelling crowd around them. Everywhere men of Gondor and Rohan were dismounting, joining their new champions in a victory cheer. It seemed everyone wanted to slap them on the shoulder or clasp them in a bruising handshake. They were jostled, deafened and shaken about by the hundreds upon hundreds of happy soldiers surrounding them. It was pure exhilaration. Eldarion could barely even direct his own footsteps; the men around him swept him along on and on through their ranks.
"We knew you were your father's son!"
"How about that, charging straight for the heart of darkness itself!"
"You're crazy, young prince, perfectly crazy!"
Eldarion's heart swelled with so much happiness and pride that he thought he might burst. By the time he finally made it back to the camps, all he wanted was to find his father. He had heard Aragorn's call just before the charge began. Briefly he worried that his father might be angry with him for having led such a wild assault. When at last he spotted Aragorn through the thick of men he felt nothing but relief though.
Finally breaking free of the latest handshake, Eldarion managed to make his way to stand before his father. In the presence of the king the men sobered and pulled themselves together somewhat. Aragorn stood with his arms crossed, a rather stern look on his face beneath the crown. His armor was bloodied, but he still looked as noble as ever. It made Eldarion feel like a young boy who had been rather naughty. Standing up straight and clasping his wrist behind his back, Eldarion waited for whatever his father might say.
For a long moment Aragorn looked Eldarion in the eye without speaking. The anticipation of the men around was nearly palpable. Eldarion thought he might die from sheer overload if his father did not say something, anything soon. Then, in one swift motion, Aragorn pulled Eldarion to him in a crushing embrace.
"You scared the life out of me, Eldarion." He murmured in his son's ear so that only they two might hear it. Then he stood back and clasped both his wrists. "But today this victory is yours." Then the king smiled, and Eldarion's relief nearly blinded him.
A great cheer went up from the men all around them, swelling to a roar so loud it made Eldarion's ears ring. The men to their left parted swiftly, respectfully, and King Éomer appeared with Elfwine at his side.
"Our sons have the hearts of lions and the brains of goats, Aragorn!" Éomer pulled Elfwine to him and clapped his son's shoulder in a powerful gesture of pride and affection. "I hardly know whether to tan this one's hide or cheer his name like a besotted bard!"
Aragorn laughed, a rare but always wonderful sound. "I say we settle for the latter for now, and save the former for later. The same goes for you, Elboron." Aragorn extended an arm and extricated Elboron from the press of soldiers. "You have some spark of your mother in you, and that I think will make her very proud indeed when she hears of today."
A happy flush crawled across Elboron's cheeks, and he bowed his head to Aragorn. "Thank you, my lord. Personally I am just happy to be alive and whole now that all is said and done."
Éomer chuckled. "You may fight like your mother, but you speak like your father, nephew. Come, let us celebrate, for today victory belongs to the young!"
Again a cheer went up from the armies of Gondor and Rohan, and there was great joy to be seen in the faces of all. Someone hoisted Eldarion's arm up into the air in a gesture of victory, and he found himself grinning sheepishly at Elfwine and Elboron who stood in similar predicaments. If this was what it felt like to be a hero, then he hoped never to forget this moment. Elation and relief swelled his heart to have at least begun living up to his father's legacy.
A song was just beginning to break out when Eldarion noticed Elboron looking around, frowning. The Steward's son met Eldarion's puzzled gaze, his blue eyes troubled.
"What is it Elboron?" Eldarion asked, shouting about the singing soldiers all around them.
"Have you seen Legolas, or Gimli?"
"I...no, I haven't actually, now that you mention them. Perhaps they're caught up in the army? Or hanging back until things settle down?"
"Perhaps..." Elboron sounded unconvinced.
Suddenly there was a shadow on the previously pure happiness of the moment. Eldarion found himself scanning the crowd, searching for the unmistakable fair hair of the elf and the squat figure of the dwarf. Finding neither, he navigated back through the throng of celebrating men to his father's side. He found Aragorn likewise standing a short ways apart from the army beside their camp.
"You've noticed their absence too then." It was less a question and more a statement coming from Aragorn. When Eldarion nodded, Aragorn's lips settled into a disquieted line. "It is not unlike Legolas to seek time to himself after a battle, but he and Gimli usually make at least a brief appearance, so that we might all see for ourselves that everyone is alive and well."
"Do you think something may be wrong, Adar?" Eldarion asked, shading his eyes from the pale eastern sun to scan the battlefield too. It was hard to see beyond the chaos of the celebrating Gondorians and Rohirrim.
Aragorn's brow furrowed. "I do not know, and that unsettles me. Did you see either of them during or after the charge?"
"No, I hardly knew they were even in the charge."
Éomer separated from the crowd and approached. The broad smile on his face faded when he saw the consternation on father and son's faces. "Is all not well?" The King of Rohan asked.
"Éomer, have you seen Legolas or Gimli since the Easterling lines broke?" Aragorn's calm voice belied the troubled look in his eyes.
Now the smile was altogether wiped off of Éomer's bearded face. Shaking his head, he waved over Elfwine. Elboron stood a short ways to one side, craning his neck trying to search the faces in the army.
"Elfwine, did you see either Legolas or Gimli with you in the charge?"
"Why no, I didn't. Why, is something wrong?"
Now Aragorn looked openly grim. Eldarion followed his father as Aragorn swept around the side of the encampment, ignoring cheerful calls from the men. With Éomer, Elfwine and Elboron on their heels, they made their way around the edge of the army, scanning the faces of all. Nowhere did they see anyone even remotely resembling their missing friends. Eldarion noticed that Aragorn was resolutely refusing to look toward the dead on the field.
"Elfwine." Éomer said in a low voice. "Get on your horse and ride a circuit of the battlefield. See if you can find them, alive or..."
"There!" Elboron shouted.
Aragorn whirled around so fast that his long black and red trimmed cloak fanned out behind him. Through the settling dust of the field they could just make out a lone figure approaching. Then they realized it was not one lone figure but two; one tall and slender with a second, shorter person carried child-like on their back.
"Lad, put me down now. I mean it Legolas, you put me down right this minute."
"I would Gimli, if I thought you able to walk even in the slightest."
Aragorn rushed toward his lost-and-found friends, all notions of kingly decorum utterly thrown to the wind. Eldarion thought he had never seen his father look so worried and so relieved.
"Gimli, Legolas, what is this!? You are wounded?"
Legolas greeted Aragorn and the others with a smile, made perhaps less genuine by the troubled pinch at the corners of his eyes.
"I am as fit and hale as ever, Aragorn. I fear though that our resident dwarf has managed to get himself stepped on by a horse."
"Ruddy creatures, I always knew it was foolishness to trust in such nervy beasts. Ah goats, there are truly loyal, intelligent steeds! Now Legolas, if you do not put me down I'll lop off some of this dratted yellow mess you've got blowing in my face."
Gimli was blustering, still trying to push his way down off of Legolas's back. As they drew closer to the army the dwarf's cheeks burned an angry, embarrassed red. Despite the threat to his much-lauded hair Legolas still did not set Gimli down. Only when they came closer did Eldarion see why. Gimli's left leg looked horrible. Blood had completely saturated his pant leg, as well as the strips of cloth which were tied around a makeshift splint. Something white glistened through the shredded fabric, and Eldarion's stomach flipped.
No less grim was the look on Aragorn's face. "Gimli, you will not try to walk on that leg even if Sauron himself appeared to chase you down. You say a horse stepped on you?" Aragorn was already moving straight into what Arwen called his 'Healer Mindset'. He waved Legolas after him, and the elf followed, carried the squirming, armored dwarf on his back as easily as if he were carrying a Hobbit child.
"An Easterling tried to attack Arod's un-defended flanks, and Gimli could not reach far enough back with his axe. So he dismounted to fight on foot. Unfortunately as the men got swept up in the charge someone did not notice Gimli in the melee and rode too close to him." Legolas was saying as they hurried toward the tents. "He was very lucky that his leg was the only thing that was trod on."
"I should say so!" Éomer exclaimed. "You could have been trampled to death, dwarf!"
Gimli shouted something about "head being higher from the ground" back at Éomer that Eldarion did not catch. Aragorn had Gimli set up on a cot in his own personal tent before banishing everyone but Legolas from the vicinity. With nothing else to do, Eldarion, Elboron and Elfwine had tried to join back in on the post-battle celebrations. On one hand, they were greatly relieved that Legolas and Gimli had both been found alive. On the other hand, it was hard to make merry after seeing the ruin of Gimli's shin. After a while they all found themselves drifting away from the celebrations to hover outside of Aragorn's tent.
The sun was just beginning to set when at last Aragorn stepped out from his tent. Long gone was his royal raiment, reduced now to only a simple tunic and leggings. The cloth in the king's hands was bloodied. Just before the tent flap fell back into place Eldarion thought he caught a glimpse of Legolas sitting close at hand to where Gimli lay on the cot.
Éomer waved aside the lieutenant he had been speaking to, immediately concentrated on Aragorn instead.
"Well, how does he fare?" He asked.
With a sigh, Aragorn crumpled up the cloth, concealing it inside his hand. "We set the bones, but the damage was worse than even I had feared. Gimli is determined that he will walk again, and so I do not doubt that he will. Never again will the Lord of the Glittering Caves stand and fight in battle though."
An uncertain silence fell over the five mortals. Eldarion bit his tongue and looked down. A knot of unease gnawed at his stomach, hard and cold. He had felt so immortal, so untouchable earlier that day after the Easterling lines broke. Part of that came from knowing he fought alongside heroes of the Fellowship of the Ring; the ultimate in legendary invulnerability. To imagine any of their elders, demi-god like champions in Eldarion's admiring eyes falling prey to such mortal things as injury and death was deeply unsettling.
"Come though, why such unhappy faces?" Aragorn rallied, clapping Eldarion and then Elboron on the shoulder. "Gimli will live, and his characteristic gentle humor is far from damaged."
"Can we see him?" Elfwine asked, still sounding concerned.
Aragorn shook his head. "Not at the moment, young Elfwine. No, for now I would recommend rest and quiet. Setting those bones was an ordeal not easily forgotten."
Eldarion was just about to suggest he, Elboron and Elfwine go rejoin the men when a Gondorian watchman came running through the encampment. The soldiers's eyes were wide with surprise and nervous energy.
"My lords, my lords!" He cried, staggering to a halt just long enough to bow to the kings and princes assembled.
"What is it, Oghan?" Aragorn was once again alert, all trace of weariness leaving his tired face.
"Three figures approach from the sea, my lord." The watchman gasped. "They look to be Haradrim from their garb. They carry a white banner."
"An envoy of peace?" Éomer frowned. "They seek to treat with us only after a resounding defeat, do they? The time is rather past for that."
"The Haradrim did not fight today, Father." Elfwine spoke up, looking from Éomer to the watchman. "Perhaps they do not feel they share the Easterlings' loss?"
"Then they are rather poor allies indeed." Éomer remarked drolly, crossing his arms across his still-armored chest.
"You say there are three, and only three?" Aragorn was once again speaking to the watchman.
"Yes my lord, approaching on foot from the east."
Aragorn looked to Éomer. "I will meet with these men, if they lay down their arms and come peaceably to the table. Will Rohan join us?"
Éomer's scowl deepened, but he gave a curt nod. "Very well. I will hear no talk of offering lands to these ruffians though. I expect a formal offer of surrender, nothing more."
"We shall see." Aragorn replied. "Oghan, have the Haradrim envoys brought to the Commanders' Tent at the center of camp. We will join them there presently."
OoOoO