Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea! West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old. O proud walls! White towers! O wingéd crown and throne of gold! O Gondor,Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree, Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?
Current Update chapter 3 previous updates
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CHAPTER 1 Here begins an excerpt from the annals of the stewards...
I Ecthelion, son of Turgon, Steward of Gondor, am a shadow of my former self. Every day that the power in the east grows, my will to withstand it wanes. From my white tower I look towards the fire, my beloved Osgiliath in ruins beneath the shadow of the mountains, and my heart grows heavy.
My scouts tell me there is naught left in Ithilien but ash, smoke and bandits. My dying wish would be to have re-taken Osgiliath before my final breath, yet the years have passed when I could lead my men forth to glory and honour on the field of battle. There are few left who could; Thorongil, my glorious captain, has long since left my side; Denethor, my eldest and Prince of Dol Amroth will only come to Minas Tirith to claim his seat of the foot of the throne.
I have bid every man come to arms to defend against the tide of evil that pours forth from Mordor. I thank the fates that I will not live to see the fall of men under the boots of the orc. My fiefs to their best to swell my coffers and barracks but the kingdom is but an echo of the glory of old.
The summer has brought me new hope, Lothien, my beautiful daughter, has wedded Mistven, a trusted captain of my court. He was with Thorongil at Umbar, and at Pelegir when he departed for the Mountains of Shadow. My daughter could not have chosen better.
Against her protest, I have sent him forth immediately, to Osgiliath, with all the men I can spare. He carries the hope of Gondor with him.
Mistven's account of the storming of Osgiliath...
The morning of 6th August 2 2955 in the Third Age of Middle Earth
I woke up today and I knew today was the day that we would take Osgiliath for Gondor!! We have spent the spring and summer preparing the ground for this assault.I stood before my host, asking what would they do for their family, their honour, their Country !! At that they replied ANYTHING, I blew my battle horn and we marched towards the walls, knowing nothing could stop us. The arrows started raining down upon us, wave after wave of steel tipped death. I saw the doubt in the faces of my men, I took up my horn and blew the call of Gondor.
The ram and siege towers reached their gate and walls, quickly the ram started its methodical rhythm; carrying the sound of doom to the foes of Gondor. At the siege tower, men rushed up the its protected ladders and soon they were upon the walls hacking and slashing at the defenders. I watched from below when I saw my men had won the gate I screamed at the top of my lungs and launched myself and my bodyguards through the gate and into the fray. We hacked through the enemy yet I saw that my bodyguards and I were outnumbered and I sounded a quick withdrawel whilst ordering my men off the walls and into the enemy. Quickly the enemy was over run and ran before us. We made for the square which we knew was still held by the enemy; we were dismayed to see a great host arrayed before us. My archers started firing barrages into their ranks quickly decimating most of their force, I then ordered my swordsmen to charge them and slaughtered their men.
Over fifteen score and ten fell in the ruins of fair Osgiliath, a hard price to pay yet a price we must pay to secure our borders against the tide of the orcs.
The day after the battle I sent word to Minas Tirith of our victory and for new orders. I secretly summoned my fair wife Lothien, but as this I write i look east once more and day had turned to night, light consumed by darkness.
Here begins another extract from the annals of the Stewards... As Ecthelion sits in the white tower, looking east, he watches the sun break out from the clutches of the Ephel Duath.
Fair Osgiliath, Mistven knows what news I wished to hear. In my gratitude, I have sent him an heirloom of the white city, a Numenorian blade of great quality. I have also sent him my daughter, to guard his side against evils of the heart; my soldiers shall protect him against the evils of the body.
His heralds tell me he crossed the Anduin in the night, routing the few orcs that held the eastern shore. My mind is troubled with this action, the eastern bank is firmly under the eye of the Dark Lord; I fear for Mistven and my men who will have to now hold the eastern bank at all costs. I have sent messengers to our Lord Forlong and to Pelegir to send troops to the front. Dark thoughts linger at the corners of my thought, they take the shape of orcs and men locked in a battle for their own survival...
screens for the battle of osgiliath(in order from start of battle to end)
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Here begins an excerpt from the annals of the stewards...
I gaze out across the fields of pelennor, brown with the ploughing of oncomign spring, looking ever eastward I worry about my new son by law, Mistven. The last time I heard new of him, his new conquest in Ithilien was for naught as orcs swarm all over, ever westward, defacing the once peaceful land. He also said that he had retreated to eastern Osgiliath. Today also I received a letter from my first son Denethor of the growing threat on the southern fiefs by the peoples of Harad, what am I, as steward, to do to maintain my threatened realm?
Here follows the words of Mistven, Captain of Gondor, Guardian of Osgiliath…
The 4th of February in the year 2956 in the third age of middle earth,
As the sun sinks in the west on this day, I write of the blood of the last. Long months had I watched the host of Mordor gather before our walls. Our forays to destroy their supplies were unsuccessful, brave men fell and were caught by the foe. They numbered over three thousand and my seven hundred brave troops were all I had to hold the walls. There was little hope in Osgiliath in the days before the battle, but my men kept their watch and waited for our enemies to come for us. I feared there would be no escape for us, and even if there was I wouldn’t have taken it. We could not return to Osgiliath before drawing swords against the foe. In the dark hours of the night I gazed at fair Ithil and thought of my beloved Lothien. I saw her weeping over my death, her tears were like glass, reflecting a fire that seemed to burn all around her.
Yesterday, as evening drew on, the drums sounded out in the trees on the north side of the city. They grew in volume and were joined by horns and feral cries and screams from the orcs. They assembled before the north gate. I ran to the walls to see our foe, instructing my captains to form up their men as we had planned ever since the orcs appeared out of Ithilien.
I mounted Minardil, my war-stallion, and rode to the walls with my guard. The men were formed up and I rose in my saddle to address them. My voice carried over the din to their ears, here is what I said, as well as I can remember it:
“Sons of Gondor, it falls to us this day to break the flood of darkness upon our shield and swords. You were all here, by my side, when we captured our fair Osgiliath and cleansed it of the filth that defiled it. It seems it now falls to us to protect that which we hold so dear.
I know your minds, I too see the host arrayed before us and my heart fails. Yet I stand, and you stand! For we are men, nay, we are free men! We are Men of the West re-born! And by our lives or our deaths Gondor will remain free!
I say to you now, this far, and no further! Hold the walls, hold the gate, For Gondor! For Gondor! For Gondor!”
The north gate was in the shadow of and outstretched section of wall, here I positioned my many archers. Before the gates I clustered my infantry, for to hold the relatively narrow gateway was the only way we would have any hope of victory. I left a group of soldiers upon the battlements, for I had seen a great siege tower which the orc would bring before our walls.
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The drums quickened and the horns grew louder as the enemy sounded their advance. A horn, unheard so far amidst the tumult of the enemy, reached my ears. It was a horn of Gondor, reinforcements maybe, hopefully. I bowed my head in silent prayer that they would reach us in time.
Before the walls, the ram of the orcs groaned into movement. As they neared us, my archers let them know what it was to fear. Volley after volley fell upon them, decimating the lead ranks, the arrows were so dense it must have blocked out the sky. As the ram reached the gate, the tower was set against the wall.
The arrows continued to fall yet the enemy was not dismayed, they caught them on their shields and broke them into two. Many must have died, yet the numberless ranks seemed unconcerned; such is the mindset of creatures bent upon destruction.
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The ramp on the siege tower dropped onto the wall, orc feet touched the fair walls of Osgiliath and died where they stood.
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As we spilt the first of their blood with our swords the gate splintered and flew open. A great cry came up from the ranks of the foe and the ground shook as thousands of feet carried death toward our ranks. I called to my men to stand firm; they were heartened as the screams of orcs rent the air and the smell of burnt flesh filled the nostrils. Boiling oil can stop any creature of this earth, man or orc.
As the foe met my men, bloody, brutal combat ensued. I could only watch as my men gave an exceptional account for themselves, killing many. Still they came on, my gaze was transfixed by the small struggles between orc and man, each one changing the course of the battle.
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My trance was broken by someone calling my name: “Lord Mistven, my captain, I bring men to aid you! I am Cuion, I come from across the river, I hope I am not too late”. Indeed he was not, Cuion, a captain I had left on the western bank of the Anduin, had gathered men and brought them across the river during the day. He had rode with the cavalry, but he had brought infantry and archers to lend more weight to our defence. I estimated we now numbered over one thousand, a good number, but not enough.
My archers concentrated their fire in the gateway, slaying orcs with arrows through their backs.
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The battle in the gateway grew in intensity; I led my guards to the backs of my troops and called to them to stand firm, and that they did. Even though the foe buckled their lines with sheer weight of numbers, there were more dead orcs upon the ground than there were men of Gondor. The oil continued to pour from the gatehouse, slaying and injuring many an orc. My heart was glad as some turned to run from the gateway, unwilling to stay and fight out their commitment.
Cuion’s infantry arrived and set about the foe with a will, I could see the strain on their faces, breathless and tired, yet they swung their sword-arms with the same vigour as my men. I sensed a change in the orcs, their will was faltering, I saw the opportunity I was waiting for.
Taking up my horn, I blew a great call that raised a cheer from my men and groan from the foe. From the front I lead my cavalry into the swell of orcs around the gateway. My cavalry followed, and Cuion, seeing my intent, also lead his men into the seething teeth of the enemy.
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As we charged our way through the enemy ranks my eyes fell on an orc, taller and wider than those around him. Quite unintentionally Minardil charged before him. My sword was quick in my hand and I took the head off his shoulders, his carcass falling to the ground.
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Fear gripped the orcs in the ferocity of our charge, they turned and ran.
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Into the night we hunted them, riding too and fro about the fields and forests of Ithilien, killing any we found. At one point, I looked about me and saw the blood-soaked guard that rode with me, we were victorious, and Gondor was safe and we relished in the destruction we wrought.
Here begins an excerpt from the annals of the stewards...
Finally today I received word from Mistven he had beaten off the orcish army, killing 3400 of the the brutes with a loss of only 80 men. I have sent him another levy of militia to bolster his forces for the new campaigning season, and to prepare for the coming assault from Mordor, as we have cut off Mordors finger but the full hand still remains. I have also recently learned that one of a great incursion of the men of Harad in the south. They make for Linhir, I fear for our strength therein.
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Chapter 3 - The Foul Air of the South
Dol Amroth, jewel of the West, it's white towers stretching toward the noon sun, it's banners fluttering in the breeze coming off the sea. To the north, the timeless haven of Edhellond and the coast of Langstrand and Anfalas across the sea. The road, busy with the traffic of trade, disappeared south around the hills of Belfalas. A lone rider thundered up the riding track that ran next to the wide, paved highway; making for the gate, he rode into the city.
"My lord Denethor, a rider from Minas Tirith has arrived, he seeks audience with you and will speak his message to no other" a man bearing the livery of Dol Amroth, the silver swan-ship upon a field of blue, knelt before Denethor, Prince of Dol Amroth and heir to the throne of the Steward. "Very well, if he comes with word from my father then delay him no longer". After a short time had passed, the doors to Denethor's study opened, a man stood in the doorway. He was cloaked in green and brown hues; his boots bore the marks and mud of the long road he had travelled. He bowed before Denethor, removed his cloak and stepped into the room. Emblazoned across his breast was the white tree and seven stars of Elendil, he was of the guards of the fountain.
Droppping to one knee, the man spoke "Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor!" Denethor, who had risen from his chair to greet the soldier sank back down, his face fallen and creased in sorrow. "When did he die," "Not three days hence my lord, in his sleep, in his room atop the white tower. I am Faelon, I come to escourt you to Minas Tirith and to communicate, and ensure the execution of, the wishes of your late father" "I shall need time to conclude my business here, then we shall make haste. First, sit a while and tell me what you must, it has been long since I spoke with a man of the white city".The soldier took a seat before Denethor and began his report. They spoke of the business of Minas Tirith and the holding of Osgiliath; Denethor listened intently to the news of Mistven, and of Lothien, Denethor's sister and Mistven's wife. The final piece of news, an event Denethor had already heard much of, was the trouble of the south, at the mouths of the Anduin. "The southrons crossed the fords under the eye of Durven, lord of Linhir, twelve days passed. They make pillage in Lebennin but he does nothing to restrain their movements; I could see the smoke from the road on my ride passed a day ago. I believe your father wished for you to repel the southrons and make safe the crossings of the Anduin. Our spies tell us Harondor is devoid of the enemy, and the waters around Tolfalas are clear. The corsairs have set all they could against us, to beat them would be to cripple them." "Then we shall ride in two days, we shall only take my bodyguard as Dol Amroth would be a nice prize for the corsiars should they see it free of a garrison" "My lord, your wishes are my orders" the soldier rose, bowed and left the room. Denethor stared out the open window of his study, out across the Bay of Belfalas, watching the gulls wheel across the clear sky. He too then rose and went about his business, his first act as stward would be to destroy the corsiars...a fitting beginning he thought.
As they left the city, crowds were gathered about the gate. They tossed flowers into the rode before the horses of Denethor and his company. As they passed from under the shadow of the southern entrance to the city, Denethor spurred his horse and in a cloud of dust they disappeared into the haze of the south.
Upon the road they met many peoples from the east of the kingdom; Denethor passed among them, learning their minds and the troubles of the land. Many were from the lands about the mouths of the Anduin, fearful of the corsairs and their notched blades. Tales of burning and looting were rife and many had fled the plentiful lands of Lebennin making for the safety of Dol Amroth.
Away in the east, the threat of the Southrons was all too real. Durven, of Linhir, led the only force that could stand against them, and he was reluctant to exert that force.
Here are the words of Durven of Linhir, Captain of Gondor...
I woke today by the sound of a horn far off. As I sat and listened to the quite morning air the horn sounded again this time seemly closer, when I heard it a third time I clearly heard a call that was not a Gondorian one. Realising what was about to transpire I quickly ran out of my tent and saw that our whole camp running amuck. I started yelling at the top of my voice for order and quite, and soon the whole camp looked to me for direction. I wavered as my men looked at me, but they watched I heard again the news I had received from my messenger, that my lord Deathnor was riding from Dol Amroth to take up the stewardship, but before he returned to Minas Tirith he rode to take up the command of my army; casting me aside riding to take the glory for himself. In that instant I realised there was no reatreat there was no hiding in the woods, only open battle!
Within a few minutes I had gathered my bodyguard and rode out to scout out the enemy force. As we came over a ride suddenly the whole of the haradrim foce was before us in battle formation.
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We quickly rode back to our army and waited, quite had fallen amongst the ranks and the only sound was the boom of drums near by. As we waited I called out that this was their day, their day to fight and die for Gondor!
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At that moment the enemy ran over the ridge, I ordered my marines to fire the javelins into the enemy
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However the enemy came so quickly I had to sound for our line to charge them
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As I sat watching the battle I realised that our lines were equally matched and I had to do something so I spurred my horse around the left side of our line and with my bodyguards fell apon the rear of their line like mad demons screaming our war cries to the sky.
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Quickly their line disolved and in the midst their general was slain.
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At that moment their whole line broke running for their pathetic lives.
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I yelled no prisoners and kept at the routing army slaughtering many a haradrim myself.
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The line of men stretched further than sight along the muddy road. Denethor looked at their faces, bloodied and haggard though they were, they were happy. He asked a captain where Durven was; riding to the head of the column he saw him, propped on his horse, his head, left arm and right hand in bandages. "Durven! Durven, my Captain! Our enemiesweep for your victory!" "Lord Denethor, my scouts told me of your coming, I wish I was in better state to greet you" Durven appeared fragile atop his horse yet his gaze was keen. "Nay, a man bloodied from victory gladdens my heart more than ten feasts ever could! I only wish I could have been here sooner" "It would have stregthened our resolve somewhat to know the Steward rode to battle with us, what delayed you in Belfalas?" "I fear that it is not for you to ask Durven" Denethor had sensed the captain's tone and quelled it quickly, "I shall come to Linhir with your company and we eat and drink and celebrate your victory. In three days I shall ride east to Minas Tirith"
The days passed without event, Denethor paid the traders of Linhir hansomly for the feast that they provided and all was good. The evening before the day of their departure, Faelon, the messenger, came to Denethor with news "My lord, you are needed in Anorien, I have had a report that the men, who your father sent to lay seige to Cair Andros, are prepared for the assault. They await your coming to attack" "Cair Andros? I thought Tirgun had long held that fortress?" "He did my lord, but Tirgun is dead and his troops returned to their homes, Cair Andros has been a haven for bandits for several years now" "Then how has the northern crossings held?" "It seems the bandits hate the orc as much as they hate us, and have held them back thus far" "Then on the morrow we ride, a new dawn may yet break in the east!"
Chapter 4 – The rise of Denethor
Here begins an excerpt from the annals of the stewards...
I look about the country side as I ride and wonder what is to come, I had felt heartened to see Durven standing victorious over the Southron army but now, not 3 days sincem I broke company with him to continue my ride to Minas Tirith. All I see around me is a deserted land, not the calm hustle and bustle of the Gondor I have known my entire life. As I reflect upon the land I can’t believe that it will all be mine in just a few short days, but I also know that that land will entitle to many hardships especially in this troubled time..... 2 days later
I can see the white city now long have I wanted to return now that wish has come true. I have let Faelon into the city to announce my coming and at noon today I will enter the city. Later that day
A horn blows, and I mount my horse and ride towards the gate, I gaze up to the ramparts and see a great host of people watching me ride, most seeing for the first time the face of their new steward. I stop in front of the gate house and yell
"your steward Deathnor has come to claim his place on the chair of the stewards"
As the rumble of my voice dies down a loud click of a gear starting to move is heard and slowly the gates open up. I spur my horse and as I walk through the gates watching as each stone passes a huge cheer cries out Hail Denathor, Steward of Gondor! At that I kept going always under a shower of flowers and praise. Soon I had ridden all 7 levels of the city and stood at the final gate, I look through and see all of the last level was full with the high ranking Gondorian officials. I see Faelon again and he steps out from the troop of fountain guard and motions to follow him, he leads into the thrown room where a crown was sitting on the stewards chair, he picks it up as he brought it down on top of my head I seemed to fell not just it’s material weight but the weight of the spirit as well.
The following day
I have recieved word from Cair Andros, they are well-prepared for the assault and urge me to join them. My people wish me to stay yet I must lead the troops to victory if I am to claim Gondor's borders are secure.
Here are the writings of Denethor, son of Ecthelion, the twenty sixth Steward of Gondor...
The 10th day of March in the year 2959 in the Third Age of Middle Earth
We crossed the fords of the Anduin today. In the rain heavy rain we gained the other side of the river. The sound of the water rushing passed the legs of the horses took me back to fair beaches of Belfalas and my youth, the fair towers of Dol Amroth and the majesty of the ships in the harbour. Those were better days, days of prosperity. It has been many years since trade passed through the ports of the west, now, the only ships come down the Anduin from the haven of Pelagir. They bear people now, fleeing the east, not trade.
After securing the fords we made for the seige camp, about a mile from the walls of the fortress. An island of stone, a rampart which we could set against the storm of Mordor. As we rode into the camp empty faces stared at my company. The men were undernourished and weathered, the seige had clearly been long and fruitless. My father was a cunning steward, but he was ever absent on the battlefield, Thronogil had been his sword-arm in younger years; age had been a great burden upon his shoulders.
A command tent had been readied for our arrival and I quickly set about arranging for the assault. As Faelon had told me upon the road, the men were ready for the coming assault; their swords were sharp and their hearts were strong.
On the third day of being in the camp the day dawned yet the sun did not rise. A storm of Mordor had come off the Mountains of Shadow, Sauron's wrath was breaking somewhere, yet that, for the moment was not my concern.
My men brought my armour, an ornamental breastplate crafted in the manner of the kings and the strong steel of the white city. I mounted my horse, Arvedui, and went out to inspect the troops assembled near the seige engines.
The troops knew their task that day and formed before the walls. The engines groaded as we advanced and appoached the heartless fortress. Gondor would breath life into this citadel.
The archers spread their ranks and ran toward the walls. They loosed volley after volley at the defenders. The sound of the arrows tearing the air crossed the battlefield and taught me of the pain suffered on the battlements.
Under fire from the enemy's towers and archers the seige towers gained the walls. I had charged some axemen, from the fair vales of Lossarnach to take the walls for me; they bore axes, tall axes with heavy heads to cleave the skulls of the troops holding the rampart. As the towers touched the wall, they climbed. A great cry rang across the field as they charged over the ramp and onto the walls. The fighting was fierce and bloody.
As the sounds of battle reached us from the wall, another cheer was raised at the gate. The soldiers had survived the onslaught from the towers and had set the ram against the gate. The portcullis had shattered and my troops were storming toward the arch of the gate. I cried for men to go to their aid; I feared what troops held the other side.
My troops faltered as screams rent the air, black oil poured from the gate and troops were burnt alive inside their armour. The smell blew across the battlefield and men voided their stomachs and thier bowels where they stood. I called them onward to aid their brothers and we made for the gate.
We fought yard by yard in the gate. The cries of battle were all around me; I saw the faces of those killed, laying still upon the cold stone. We fought on, ans the enemie's ranks began to lessen.
The men of Lossarnach were not fairing well upon the wall, the enemy were too great in number, and their defence and resolve was fierce. Men of Minas Tirith, clad in their polished stell armour mounted the walls and began to turn the tide there.
A shout went up around me, the bandit captain was slain. His men, fluent in the Common Speech, knew their plight was failing and turned for the safety of the keep.
We fought our way to the square before the keep of the fortress. Men, upon the butresses, loosed arrows at us and they fell admist my soldiers. My soldier reached the keep and stormed inside. I ordered them to array a defence before the stronghold of Cair Andros and face what enemy may come at them.
Troops were leaving the walls to try their hand at ridding us of the keep. Every last man counted; my troops cut the enemy down as they made for the keep but some yet arrived.
The fighting was dogged and bloody, my men fought to their last breaths and beyond. My guard charged the rear of the enemy's last ditch attack. In the fighting, a spear caught my shoulder, renting the flesh in two but leaving the arm still useful. We fought till the last of them lay dead and the keep was entirely ours.
The price of Cair Andros was not high, yet the deaths saddened us still. Four hundreds lay dead upon the rampart and the before the walls. We had taken the lives of near one thousand bandits as well as the bandit cheiftain, a man named Leofric. We sang our songs far into the night and breathed life back into Cair Andros.
Here begins a lesser tale of this story, the tale of Melion, and the meeting of the elves.
The sea of grass covered the Estenmet like a blanket. It steched almost father than sight, it would, if it had not been bordered by the great peak of Amon Hen to the east and by the feet of the Misty Mountains to the west. The road had been long, travelling to and fro across the wide lands north of the mouths of the Entwash, seaching for a camp of the Rohirrim. For over 400 hundred years had they lived in this land of the Eorlingas yet now there were none to be found.
Melion wished to journey north as soon as he could, but he could not pass through the land of Rohan without treating with a man of the king. He had word to bring from the late-king Ecthelion, but it must reach the Rohirrim soon. He had left Lossarnach, and the service of Lord Forlong, to go into the service of the steward. Yet almost as soon as he arrived he was sent forth on his current errand.
On the seventh day of being in the lands of Rohan, Melion's company awoke, to be surrounded by a company of horsemen. Melion greeted the captain with the white of his palm beared, to show no mal-intent.
"Greetings master of horses! I am Melion, council to the late Ecthelion, twenty fifth steward of Gondor! I am come to treat with you and yours and to carry the words of my steward to your king," "You are well met Melion of Gondor, I am Holgeir, a captain of Rohan. If you wish it, I shall convey you to Meduseld so that you may speak with the king yourself,"
He was a great man, sat a top a huge war stallion, his armour was of brown and green hues and he was cloaked as for a long and hard road. He spoke highly, for one of the Rohirrim, and his eyes seemed to convey a mind, not merely trained for war, but of rational thought and beautiful art.
"Though you would honour me with the passage of your land, I have much business to attend in the north and I have lingered in your lands too long already. I make for the fords of the Limlight, would your company ride with us so that you and I may parly, and I may deliver the entirity of my message to one who will bear it forth to his master?" "If that is your wish, we shall escourt you to the limlight. Though what you seek in the Celebrant I do not know, elves walk there and we have not heard a kind word from them for many a year." "Your knowledge of these lands and their ways far surpasses mine, Holgeir of the Rohirrim, let us ride now as hard as we may and converse more upon the road"
For another seven days they crossed the Estenment, and then the Wold in the north. Holgeir told Melion of the threat of the east and the growing might of Saruman. He spoke of the smoke rising from Orthanc and the attacks of bands of orc and wargs from the mountains. Yet it seemed Rohan yet stood, and the north was held fast for the moment.
On the ninth day the sun rose over the glittering Limlight.
"My men will not cross the fords with you, Melion, you and your company must go alone. I have advised you against treating with the elves, yet go you must. I wish you a safe passage through those lands and I hope that in time you will pass through our lands once more and come to the Golden Hall upon the hill." "I could not have asked for a better friend to travel these lands with, I hope we have shared much and learned the same. I bid you farewell my friend, my heart yearns to see your land in all its glory, yet time and the steward are my masters. I must depart."
Melion crossed the Limlight mid-morning and set off north east.
As the day wore on, his company became restless. Melion, thinking the road to the elves would not be as troublesome as those suspicious Rohirrim feared, began to doubt his words. Even the blades of grass on the Celebrant seemed to speak of their coming, passing from blade to blade as they rode ever northward.
Evening began to fall, the shadows grew longer and the company's discomfort with it. Melion was about to call a halt when, upon the road shapes appeared. A great band of cloaked figures had emerged from the tall grasses and now barred the way north.
The air seemed tense, unsure of itself. Melion dismounted his horse and walked forth to meet whatever fate had befallen them. His palm was beared, as before, when he met the Rohirrim. As he neared the cloaked figures, he saw they held great curved bows close to their chests, yet still he could not discern who they were. The ranks parted and a figure, alone, cloaked in the same fashion as the rest stepped foward to Melion.
"Greetings, Melion of Gondor, you are most welcome in our land. Long has it been since a man of the white city has journeyed this far to treat with us"
Melion relaxed and bowed low to the stranger
"Greetings to you, indeed long has it been since we came here, yet the manner is as different as the time is long. Is it now the custom of the elves to surprise their friends, as if they were bandits, upon the road?" "Alas, that is the days we find ourselves in, unsure of who remains friend or who has become foe. Though we consider all foes of the darkness to be our friends and allies; Gondor we count highest among them"
"Then my heart is glad, yet I still do not know to whom I speak"
The cloaked figure removed his hood,
"MaeGovannen, Melion, I am Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien"
Melion bowed again, much lower than before. His company gasped as the words reached their ears,
"My lord Celeborn, you honour us," "As I spoke before, it gladdens me to greet you in these lands, for you have been longed looked for. Come, we shall camp hereabouts for the night. My company bears good food for many mouths than we are here; let us feast and sing. On the morrow we shall talk of your errand Melion"
Far into the night the elves sang and feasted to welcome their guests. The stars lit up the sky, and to Melion, seemed brighter than he had ever seen. He spoke seldom, and sat and listened to the sweet voices of the elves as they sang of old:
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! O Queen beyond the Western Seas! O Light to us that wander here Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars that in the Sunless Year With shining hand by her were sown, In windy fields now bright and clear We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna mķriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-dķriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Fanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, si nef aearon!
A Elbereth Gilthoniel! o menel palan-dķriel le nallon sķ di'nguruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos!
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! silivren penna mķriel o menel aglar elenath! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
Melion knew not when his eyes had closed and he has slept, yet the cool dew of the morning woke him from his slumbar. He saw Celeborn conversing with two other elves, when he noticed Melion rise, he came over.
"Alas, time is pressing my friend Melion, let us speak our business"
For and hour or more they spoke, recounting the deeds of both their peoples and the troubles of the land. At the conclusion, they both vowed to reaffirm the alliance between Gondor and the Sindarin. Celeborn spoke of the threat of the orcs, scattered throughout the Misty Mountains and lower Mirkwood.
"The time has come when my company and I must depart, orcs have been sighted away west and we march to bring their doom." "My lord, I am eternally grateful for the time we have spent together, as is Gondor. I am glad to know we depart as allies against the sadows that seek to consume us. We now intend to go back across the Limlight and make for the gap of Rohan," "Ah, if you do go north, seek out the fords of Bruķnen and the last homely house. There dwells Elrond Half-Elven, he would be glad to hear the news you imparted to me this day," "I will my lord, if I should be lucky enough to get so far along that road unscathed. I bid you farwell, I am glad to have met with the elves and count them still as the greatest and most noble of Gondor's allies" "Namaarie Melion, may your road be a safe one. We shall watch over you as long as you travel near our lands."
With that, Melion and his company left. Never to be seen again in the lands of Celeborn.
If you want to rep this AAR , rep BOTH of the authors(me;sithlord447 and Coeur de Lion)
Last edited by sithlord447; May 22, 2009 at 10:38 PM.
Re: [TATW AAR] Gondor, Gondor between the moutains and the sea!
Nice AAR! I really enjoy LOTR Mods AARs, since I like the books.movies so much and the mods themselves don't work on my computer.
Alea Iacta Est (The Die is Cast) - Gaius Julius Caesar An army of sheep led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a sheep - Alexander the Great We will either find a way, or make one - Hannibal Barca
Re: [TATW AAR] Gondor, Gondor between the moutains and the sea!
Another great update! I'd rep you both, but as you can see, my post count is just a bit low...
Alea Iacta Est (The Die is Cast) - Gaius Julius Caesar An army of sheep led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a sheep - Alexander the Great We will either find a way, or make one - Hannibal Barca
Re: [TATW AAR] Gondor, Gondor between the moutains and the sea!
lol. Nice. No need, however. You've both recieved your well-deserved rep!
Alea Iacta Est (The Die is Cast) - Gaius Julius Caesar An army of sheep led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a sheep - Alexander the Great We will either find a way, or make one - Hannibal Barca
[TATW AAR] Gondor, Gondor between the moutains and the sea!
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Originally Posted by Nazgul-Killer
