Dawnstar and Friend

Eleanor’s POV
The night of March 21st is slightly strange because after the ambush, Ginny manages to rip open wound we hadn’t known she had.
We sit in the HQ tent, being rather amused at the look on a certain Dol Amrothian prince’s face as she matter of factly cleans and dresses a gash on her left arm. It has gone nasty but, seeing as it is not her sword arm, then she can still fight.
She still gets reamed out by Aragorn for not telling him about getting injured though.
A couple of days, later we leave the beauty of Ithilien, damaged as it is by the evil of Sauron.
We watch Aragorn send those members of the army too scared to fight at the Black Gate to retake Cair Andros, which we all realise is a bit safer than the suicide mission of attacking the Black Gate, though Ginny and I know we will win.
I am rather proud of him for being able to do that and caring about his men enough to do so.
I also notice that Imrahil tells the men to proclaim the reign of King Elessar, like our scruffy little ranger didn’t have enough names already.
On the 24th we camp on the ‘Desolation of Morannon’ to use the cheerful name given to the area in front of the Black Gate.
The next day the ‘Mouth of Sauron’ or the ‘Mould of Sauron’ as Ginny and I call it, comes out and tries negotiating, armed with Sam’s sword and Frodo’s Mithril shirt.
We girls ride up front with the negotiating party, though our noses wish we hadn’t as the other side’s ‘diplomat’ stinks worse than a pile of burning Orcs.
When it delivers outrageous terms Gandalf is about to answer when he sees the look on my face (we have stopped hiding who I am altogether by now) and lets me answer. I have to admit I change the way it went in either the book or the film.
I lean close to him (ignoring the stench) and state, quite calmly,
“We wouldn’t agree to those terms even if we saw Orcs in pink tutu’s dancing the cancan in Valinor!”
I then use a little magic to do something I have always found funny. I make one of the more amusing bunny suicides come real.
The Mouth of Sauron screams as a toy bunny (I would never use a real rabbit, how evil do you think I am?) appears on one of the spiky bits of his tower and shakes pepper all over the eye of Sauron.
I think Ginny is, once again, the only one who understands what is funny.
The scream is what prompts Aragorn to knock the head off the Mouth of Sauron, to shut the thing up.
We all then ride back to the army and I assure those with me that Frodo and Sam are fine and that they just need this distraction and we will win. They ask me how I know.
We are nearly at the army, so I can do something I have been dying to do for a while.
In an offhand manner I state simply,
“Oh, everyone in our world knows how the War of the Ring would end, it is common knowledge where I grew up, and we do know most of this world’s history.”
They gape at me and I am pretty sure that they want to demand answers of me, but we have just arrived at the army and Aragorn has a speech to make, then there is this little imminent battle.
After the speech, which is suitably inspiring and whatever, everyone prepares to fight.
We form the Vanguard of the Army, and all draw our bows, preparing to shoot the crap out of the nasty little monsters about to come through the gate.
Beside us are our cats, prepared for action.
Legolas has Gimli behind him (the Dwarf does not have any suitable projectiles) and Miriel and I either side. Ginny is next to me and Amrothos is on her other side, he has refused to leave her side for the battle, awww, true love.
All those around me are able to empty our quivers into the oncoming Orcs before arming up with close range weapons.
I choose my new toy, that highly spiky staff I invented in Lorien.
I am pretty sure that the Orcs underestimated how sharp the spikes are and how well I use the thing.
It is not far into the battle when I am separated from all but Legolas and Nyx, who are both very protective of me.
It seems to go on forever and I totally ignore what my body tells me about my health and only pay attention to the fighting and my love.
Often we fight back-to-back and are always watching each other’s backs, not letting each other get harmed though there are a few close shaves.
Because this is Legolas I am fighting next to, we count our kills.
You have no idea how relieved I am to see the eagles overhead, fighting the Nazgul.
It brings me a bit of relief to know that the battle will soon be over.
Though I know the eagles mark an appreciably close end to the battle, it still seems to take an eternity for there to actually be any other sign of the end.
Eventually we see the tower which, since I put that bunny up there, seems to have been having some trouble with its eye, shudders and collapses, the eye going out.
Everything stops moving and, in slow motion, the tower collapses.
The middle goes first and the top just goes down, it does not wobble and it does not tip to either side, it just goes down.
Above the tower rises a mushroom cloud of dust and ashes which blots out most of the sky, though not as totally as the cloud of the dawnless day that Sauron put out to protect his Orcs.
I have a strange feeling, not quite comprehending, not quite registering what is happening.
Then other things collapse, all the structures of Mordor fall equally dramatically and I am stunned, in a way I have never felt before. A film just does not do these things justice.
That strange, unreal and disattached feeling I have is broken by the storm of the armies of Mordor retreating.
Then Mount Doom goes off and this time it is much too close for comfort.
Suddenly someone, I do not know who, calls out the name of Frodo and we realise that the poor Hobbit is on the sides of that mountain and will probably die if he isn’t got out there with the greatest urgency.
The name of the little Hobbit sweeps through the army; I think everyone knows who he is.
I see Gandalf mount up on Gwaihir and fly off followed by two other eagles I later find out are called Landroval and Meneldor.
My mind does the strangest things; I remember that the eagles are the symbol of both Manwë and of Zeus from Greek mythology.
I don’t know where that though came from, but I put it down to my exhausted mind and pray that whatever gods are listening to help the small heroes.
It doesn’t take long for that horrifying spell to wear off and everyone remembers that we were in the middle of a battle.
The Orcs and Uruk-hai have run, but some of the men who sided with Mordor stay and fight it out until they are defeated and some more surrender.
After the battle is over there is the thoroughly exhausting work of finding the injured, like we weren’t tired enough.
I am too tired to have to resist the temptation to ‘help’ Gimli find Pippin under the cave troll; we are too far from him for me to walk over that way.
We wonder all over and once again the cats turn out to be invaluable, some strange cat sense allowing them to be able to find the living much more effectively than us who walk on two legs.
We pull back from the scene of the battle again to make camp and set up a sick area, not bothering to put up tents before going to bed, that will wait until tomorrow.
Later that evening, when the only light is from fires, I see Ginny and Amrothos come over to us, somehow having found us, though both are obviously wounded fairly badly. Judging by the position of the wounds, they also fought back-to-back when whatever it was hit them.
If I were more awake, I would have noticed my best friend has stopped resisting the Prince, even if that will only last until the morning.
They sit down silently, obviously feeling as tired as I, and dress each other’s wounds.
It is only then that I realise that I also have multiple cuts and grazes, but the adrenaline rush and then the exhaustion stopped me from noticing.
At this point Legolas and I also dress each other’s wounds.
As Ginny and Amrothos drift to sleep, using Murrlin as a pillow and too tired to care that they are in each other’s arms, Legolas and I also curl up on Nyx to sleep.
I don’t think that there is anyone who doesn’t want to go to sleep right now, though many good people are still up, helping the wounded.
Ginny’s POV
During the afternoon of the 21st March, ours and a few more of the leading companies of the Host of the West are ambushed by some Orcs and Easterlings.
The skirmish (you could hardly call it a battle) is over relatively easily and painlessly (for our side anyway).
What are the odds of being cut in almost the exact same place on my arm as I was at the Pelennor Fields? Pretty high it seems. Not that it’s much of a cut, more of a nick in the skin really.
It still manages to rip open the previous wound though as I’m carrying my pack over to our tent.
The pack slips from my arms, wrenching them briefly; I feel a slight jab at my arm, but don’t think anything of it until Miriel suddenly gasps,
“Ginny, your arm!” She points and, looking down, I see the dark blood soaking through on to the fabric.
“Oh, um, right... Miriel could you just run and get my healing pack please.”
Miriel runs off and I ease my sleeve up my arm, exposing the wound.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got injured?!” Aragorn’s voice is deep with anger.
“Well, at the time I was rather concentrating at not getting my head chopped off. Besides, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad.”
“Gotten so bad? Ginny, when did that originally happen?”
“I think I was originally injured at the Pelennor Fields...”
“What! and you haven’t been to a healer since then?...” Aragorn is about to continue his rant when Miriel charges back into the tent, throwing me my healing stuff.
Amrothos, who has actually managed to get a seat next to me, asks if I need any help and looks very shocked when I reply with an airy ‘no thanks’.
There is complete silence in the tent as I casually clean and bandage my wound.
***
It is early morning of 25th March and we have just arrived at the Black Gate.
Aragorn wasn’t at all happy at letting me fight. I think he’s still feeling slightly put out at me not telling him about my arm. He only agrees when I point out that he needs all the soldiers he can get. Besides, I’ve come all this way and the wound isn’t on my sword arm so I might as well fight.
I try my best to hold my breath as the Mouth of Sauron rides up to us.
Unlike in Tolkien’s version, Gandalf allows Ellie to answer to the terms of negotiation. I smirk as she does so in typical Ellie-style, with much aplomb as well I might add, especially when she does a bunny suicide right on to Sauron’s eye.
Everyone else is too dumbfounded to do or say anything until Aragorn breaks through their reverie by cutting the head from the Mouth of Sauron.
I can see that Aragorn will be a very great and inspiring king as he makes his pre-battle speech. Even though I know our side will win, I can’t help feeling nervous. My heart pounds hard against my ribcage.
As the Vanguard forms up, everyone drawing out their bows, Amrothos suddenly bends down and kisses me lightly on the cheek.
“In case anything happens,” he whispers before straightening up.
I don’t have time to do anything in reply as the Orcs have begun their charge and everyone begins firing their arrows.
I’m very soon cut off from the rest of my friends, although I’m not alone, Amrothos is fighting fervently nearby. If it weren’t for the battle that’s raging all around me, I’d be thinking just how nice it was to have someone with me.
I don’t even think about my arm as I use both hands to swing my sword at every Orc I can reach.
Suddenly I’m knocked on to my back as an Orc comes charging into me. The force of his sprint carries him too far and he drops his sword. I reach out for mine, but the Orc squats on my chest and begins to throttle me. I struggle, but feel my strength beginning to ebb away...
All of a sudden, the Orc falls down on to my chest, almost crushing me; his weight is immediately removed and, as I feel the air rush back into my lungs, I’m gathered into someone’s arms and clutched against a shivering chest.
It’s Amrothos. I cling to him, coughing and spluttering, tears streaming down my cheeks. Amrothos makes gentle, calming noises.
“Please don’t leave me,” I beg into his neck.
“Of course I won’t, I’m staying right here.” Amrothos renews his grasp of me; I think I hear one or two sobs escape from his lips.
However, I have no time to dwell on this as Murrlin growls ominously, tail puffed up and swishing.
I look over Amrothos’ shoulder and see an Easterling fixing an arrow to his bow. He looks into my eyes, a malicious smile playing about his lips.
Without thinking, I reach into my boot and draw out a dirk.
The Easterling doesn’t have time to react before the blade pierces his right eye.
True to his word, Amrothos stays beside me, or to be more exact, behind me as we begin fighting back-to-back.
The battle goes on and on...
All sorts of missiles are flying around us and somehow, Amrothos and I become momentarily separated.
I hear a cry of pain, I turn and my heart stops, Amrothos is lying unconscious on the ground. I rush over to him. There is nasty wound on his forehead. I shake him and call his name, but he doesn’t respond.
Shakily, I feel for his neck for his pulse and exhale gladly when I feel it still pumping away. But there is no way I’ll be able to drag him to safety so Murrlin and I stand over him and continue the fight.
Eventually, I see the eagles swooping over head, fighting the Nazgul. I then hear a low groan from just below me. It’s Amrothos, whose beginning to stir.
Like he did to me, I clutch him to my chest, hugging him hard. Tears once again begin to fall.
When I release him, I look into his grey eyes, but his eyes dart to the side of me, focussing on a point just behind my right shoulder.
I turn; an Orc is bearing down upon us. Instinctively I grab my sword and manage to plunge it straight into his chest.
I kneel back down next to Amrothos; I then have an unexpected urge to hug him again, which I do before helping him to his feet. He staggers slightly, but valiantly takes up his sword again and we fight on.
This time, however, there is something different and I don’t just mean between Amrothos and I, there is a definite feeling that the battle is nearly over.
This is soon proven when Sauron’s eye goes out and his tower collapses in a cloud of thick dust. This causes the collapse of other structures, which sends out even more dust and ash.
This spectacle is only surpassed by the eruption of Mount Doom itself, after which, the cry of ‘Frodo!’ begins to sweep through the troops. Looking up, I see the eagles flying with all speed in the direction of the mountain.
The battle soon ends after this as we manage to subdue the last of Sauron’s army.
Even though my body is crying out for want of rest, I help to search for anymore survivors and the wounded. We then help to set up camp and I start treating some of the walking wounded, Amrothos helping.
When we’ve done as much as we can, we begin wandering around in search of Ellie or Miriel. I soon spot Miriel, but she’s sitting next to one of Elrond’s sons, her head resting on his shoulder. Somehow, this doesn’t seem the kind of scene we should be walking in on so we look round and eventually spot Ellie and Legolas.
As we make our way over to them, I pause and look into Amrothos’ face,
“I want to thank you for what you did. You saved me from an agonising death...” I drop my gaze.
A sharp in-take of breath as Amrothos puts his hand under my chin, bringing my head up so I have to look into his eyes.
“I’d do far more for you,” he says tenderly and strokes my cheek.
I feel myself colour and look away. After a pause, I say shyly,
“We should rest and dress our own wounds.”
We then sit down next to Ellie and Legolas and dress each others’ wounds. I try not to look into Amrothos’ face when I’m attending to his head, but I can’t help myself glancing at him every now and then when he’s dealing with yet another cut to my left arm.
When Amrothos has finished cleaning my wounds I lie back against the already sleeping Murrlin. Amrothos joins me.
A cold wind blows across us. I turn on to my right side and nestle against Amrothos’ warm body. I feel exhausted and my eyes immediately begin to droop.
But before I drift off, I feel Amrothos’ hand close about mine. Almost of its own accord, my own hand turns to meet his...