by Arien-(Valar)
October 4, 2011
Written for the 14th Anniversary of the Valar Guild
Eothan often imagined how a conversation with the Lord General
would have gone, had there been the chance or time. Maybe he
wouldn’t have come close anyway – he was just a young soldier in King
Eomer’s army and far from bold when it came to asking leave from
military duty. He was always afraid it would look like cowardice
or even treason. But Eomer and the other riders knew that he
wasn’t – even though he had flinched at the sight of the ashen plains
and hills at the gate to the Black Land. Eothan had been overcome
by a sudden despair and new fear over his younger sister and old mother
even though they had left behind enough troops to hopefully protect
Rohan and its inhabitants from any assault coming out of Mordor or the
Balchoth. His only shimmer of any positive aspect was that he wasn’t
alone with these unworthy emotions – there were seven hundred and forty-nine others who had been
sent to clear Cair Andros of any enemy left behind, and Aragorn
believed the island was still held by them.
Now they were here and Eothan found himself in the role of commanding
them and organising the attack, something he was used to doing when he was
patrolling and scouting in the Eastmark. The ride back down the road
that they had come over the last few days had been uneventful and
uninterrupted save for short rests for the the horses.
At the crossroads to the Cursed City, which the Gondorians called Minas
Morgul, they had come across some Rangers that had been left there
earlier and managed to get a good description of what awaited them,
together with the permission to leave the horses near the hidden
shelter of Henneth Annun.
This is the description they had been given:
6.2 miles long1
and only 2 miles wide, Cair Andros was shaped like a ship’s prow and
there was still some forest towards what would be the “stern” and
a bit less at the “bow”. The middle of the island had been
cleared of most trees and their wood been used to build a store
house and a stable, but a small fortress with a single tower made
of stone had been erected to fortify the island several hundred years
before after the fall of King Ondoher II. Later this small fortress had
been abandoned, but was taken back into service one generation ago by
the steward Turin II, grandfather of the late Denethor II.
After they reached the grassy hillsides below Henneth Annun, the horses
had been fed and unsaddled and now roamed free in on the still green
hills of Ithilien. Eothan wasn’t worried about them – they could be
recaptured later – provided they lived.
Back there he also had split his commando troop into five divisions of which
he intended to send two to the small shipyard with the docks that
provided landing for ships from and to Minas Tirith. The small army was
wading the ford from the eastern bank of the Great River as silently as
possible and Eothan at the front was reaching the shore of the island.
When all of his men had reached dry ground Eothan gave the signal to
the two divisions who were to take care of the ship landing and carried
on with the rest of his men until they could make out the outlines of
buildings in the still dark world. Several fires flickered in what must
count as courtyard and dark shapes around them could just be made out.
Eothan waved the two other division leaders to his side and whispered
to one of them: “Send some of your men to create a distraction – get
them away from the fire.”
With a quick glance to one of the wooden buildings young Freawyn nodded
and grinned “I think there are horses in there – I have heard low
neighing. Maybe we can do something with that.”
Eothan grinned and nodded approvingly. “I leave that in your capable
hands then. The others wait for the distraction to work and split the
gathered enemy into manageable portions. Engage them in these small
groups and don’t let them form one great heap, otherwise we might be
overwhelmed.”
Silently the gathered Rohirrim waited for whatever Freawyn had in mind
but, before anything did happen on that front, an alarm shout came from
the fortress. At the same time an orange light came from the
southern end where Eothan had sent the two units towards the ship
landing. He stared intensely towards the orange light and could
gradually make out the flickering flames and smoke coming from
direction.
Freawyn had noticed simultaneously and reacted quickly. He sneaked with
three of his soldiers into the stable and with wild shouts they chased
half a dozen horses into the courtyard towards the burning fires. In
the chaos that followed Eothan gave the signal to charge: “For Rohan!”
Their enemies had not noticed at first what actually happened in the
courtyard in their eagerness to find out what was going on at their
ship landing and sent a good two hundred men to the place. They were worried about
the fire spreading to the surrounding forest and maybe eventually the
wooden stables and hence reacted accordingly. By the time the enemy
commander perceived what was going on with his own eyes he found
himself engaged in close combat with Eothan himself.
The fight seemed to go on for an eternity and the dawn gave way to
daylight. The skill and courage of the Rohirimm found the enemy forces
much reduced while Eothan's had only few casualties. As both parties
threatened to run out of energy time suddenly seemed to stand still.
The Easterling soldiers in service of the Dark Tower almost literally
froze in their movements and then slowly broke free of the ban that
held them but new strength and lightness of heart filled the tiring
Rohirrim. Now the fight became more balanced as the former Mordor forces
found new strength in desperation and gave back almost as good as
they got.
But finally the battle was won and most of the courtyard in front of
the stone building that served as main fortress was littered with bodies
of both sides and the smaller building that must have been a storehouse
of some sort was burned out.
Eothan was still on his feet even though he was bleeding from several
cuts and was taking stock of his troops – still about three hundred, a bit
less than half that had set out from the Black Gate, Freawyn among
them, although he was among the more severely wounded. In the midst of
the first cleaning up and setting up shelter for the wounded, two dusty
messengers splashed across the water without bothering to dismount.
“Hail, victorious soldiers of Rohan! Hear the news of what has befallen at
the Dark Gates! Victory is to the Lords of the West and the Black Lord
is no more! Praise to King Elessar and the Heroes of the Ring! Hail to
you all and my sincere respect to those in the fight here. Know that
your deed will not be forgotten and you will be rewarded accordingly. I
will bring news back to the King of your victory. With their message
delivered they turned around and headed back. As an afterthought one
messenger came back to Eothan and told him: “The King and his army are
coming towards here and plan to set up camp over on the eastern bank at
the field of Cormallen. Expect them in the next few hours. I am sure
that will relieve your duties and your wounds can be taken care of.”
With that the messenger followed his colleague.
Slowly a grin and a smile crept over Eothan’s exhausted face and he turned
to his second in command, the man who had initiated the fire at the
ship landing site. “You go ahead getting the wounded to the fortress
and organise something that can accommodate them. I have a
bigger welcome to prepare.”
The End
1 I am using British miles. 1 British miles ~ 1,6 km = 1600 m; 6.2 miles ~ 10 km top