Chapter 13: A Choice to Make
Third Person
Easterlings sprang through the now open gate, letting out a chilling battle cry as they rushed at the waiting Gondorian soldiers. The cry itself seemed to shake them, but they nonetheless braced themselves at the order of Boromir their commander.
"Shields up, spears out!" He cried in a commanding voice, his eyes narrowed in determination.
The enemy came through the smoke rapidly, long halberds held in front of them as they charged. Several of them fell to the ground as arrows pierced their armor, and Boromir gave a nod of thanks to his brother, who stood behind the Gondorian soldiers with what was left of his Rangers. Faramir acknowledged the nod with a grim smile as he fitted another arrow to the string of his bow.
But even the arrows of the Rangers weren't enough to slow the advance of the Easterlings. They made contact with the Gondorian line, shouting as they fought. Boromir could tell that his men were on the verge of breaking already. These were not the trained men that he was used to commanding, but he still knew that he must do what he could to save them.
"Fall back! To the thoroughfare!" He shouted as he ran an Easterling through with his sword. He turned and looked at his men, and it was then that he realized the mistake he had made.
Instead of an organized retreat, the Gondorians had turned tail and ran immediately, making an easy target for the Easterlings. The cruel men chased them, cutting them down mercilessly as they fled.
Boromir looked around wildly for Faramir. He couldn't lose his little brother. Much to his dismay, there was no sign of him among the fleeing men.
"Faramir!" He shouted loudly, hoping that somehow his brother would hear him. However, a young soldier heard him instead and approached him.
"I saw Captain Faramir flee toward the keep with his men, sir! He was alive last I saw him." The soldier was breathing heavily and holding his side, and blood was soaking through his gloved hand.
"Thank you soldier," Boromir said in relief. "What's your name lad?"
"I'm Berethor sir." The young man was pale, and now seemed to be struggling to stand.
Boromir put an arm around him and helped him along as they retreated. Less than half of the soldiers at the gate were still alive. By Boromir's reckoning, they had lost twice what the enemy had. He had come to a realization: unless reinforcements came, the city was lost.
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First Person
I heard the sounds of battle outside as my fellow Lòke-Rim charged through the gates with a yell. My task was complete. The only thing left was to take the city, which would most likely be a matter of a few hours.
I had a terrible, gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach, and as I heard the screams of dying Gondorian soldiers I wondered if I had done the right thing... If I was even on the right side.
But now was not the time to entertain such feelings. Now was the time to fight.
I drew my scimitar and dashed out of the room into the insanity that awaited outside.
What greeted my eyes filled me with a mixture of emotions. Easterlings were chasing down the running Gondorian soldiers, cutting them down as they fled. Several of them seemed to be making the Gondorian soldiers' deaths slow on purpose, and the cries of agony and pain that came from the dying men made me sick. I had seen death before; The screams of the Pit still echoed through my mind. But not even there had it been on such a massive scale, nor had such pure chaos reigned there as it did here.
But this was war. And mercy was for the weak I suppose. If we let them live then they'd only come back to fight us later... At least, that's how I justified it in my head. But that justification was growing weaker with each passing moment.
I braced myself and charged forward with the other men, joining in their battle cry.
I was gaining on a Gondorian who was clearly already injured; he ran with a distinct limp and his leg was covered in blood. By now I had sheathed my sword and drawn my halberd instead, and I raised it above my head as I dashed forward in a burst of speed.
The Gondorian turned and saw me gaining on him, and his eyes filled with fear. But the motion of turning his head caused him to stumble, and in less than a second I was upon him. With a cry I stabbed downward, skewering the hapless soldier. He gasped and fell the rest of the way to the ground, his blood painting the cobblestone beneath him.
I felt a sudden pang of remorse at his death... But I didn't want to. These were the enemy, they deserved death. But why? Why do they deserve death? My mind wouldn't let it go, and the thoughts kept filling me with doubt. But still I continued to cut down any enemies in my path, attempting to block out my mental struggle.
The remaining Gondorians finally turned to face us, forming a makeshift shield wall to stop our advance. But it was clear already who had won. My comrades were high on the thrill of battle and better trained than the Gondorian soldiers, who were exhausted and disheartened by the slaughter at the gate.
I was certain that they would have fled already if not for the steely determination of their captain... Who looked familiar somehow. I couldn't place where, but I felt like I had seen him before.
Then it came to me. He looked very similar to the captain I had fought at the Dagorlad skirmish, only older. Perhaps they were brothers. That would explain the bravery that they both seemed to display, even in the face of defeat.
Despite my respect for men of honor such as this captain, I knew that he must die, otherwise the Gondorians would hold for much longer. I strode toward him, my halberd dripping with the blood of those I had already killed. The captain glared at me, and with a cry he rushed at me, sword in hand. I blocked his first attack with ease, although I could already tell that this man was much stronger than the other captain. I took a measured approach to this fight, only defending myself until I could see a weakness in his fighting style. His attacks were strong, but they lacked discipline. He left himself wide open after each strike, allowing me to take advantage of his momentary vulnerability.
I drew a dagger, and with lightning quick speed stabbed his side after he finished a swing with his sword. He gasped and took a step back, though I could tell that the wound wasn't fatal from the anger in his eyes. He suddenly grabbed a great horn from his side, and blew it. The sound of it was deep, and echoed through the city. Damn it, he has reinforcements, I thought to myself. Perhaps they had saved the best soldiers for the final defense...
But from the desperation on the captain's face, I realized that no reinforcements would come. He had only blown the horn to rally his men, who seemed only slightly heartened by the deep, rushing sound of it. I was filled with new confidence, and aggressively advanced on the tall captain. I put all of my skills to use, spinning my halberd at blinding speed and moving with the power of a tiger. The man had clearly never fought against anyone who fought like me, and his eyes widened as he struggled to block each attack. Despite this, he still managed to keep an eye on his men, and momentarily gave them orders as he fought me.
"To the keep! To the keep!" He finally cried as he realized that making a stand here was a sure way to die. His men made a more organized retreat this time, and slowly backed down the street. The captain realized that I was distracted by the retreat, and suddenly swung at me with a powerful slash, cutting my arm open. I clenched my teeth and looked down at my arm, which was already gushing bright red blood. I glared at the captain as he used the opportunity to break away and retreat down the road with his men.
He had bested me, but he would die here. He only postponed his death.
I grouped up with the rest of the Lòke-Rim, who had gathered in the street and were regrouping. Our losses had been greater here, although we still had more men than the enemy.
As I looked around and counted our casualties, an officer rode up on a coal black horse.
"We've routed them back to the keep!" He shouted. "But their civilians are still barricaded in their homes! Kill them all, leave none alive!" He raised his bloodied sword into the air, and with a cry galloped down the road to meet with the other horsemen.
Killing civilians? It was difficult enough to bring myself to kill the soldiers...
"Did you not hear him?!? Go!" An officer on foot pushed me roughly as he ran past me towards a house. I looked down the street and saw Easterlings kicking down doors and pulling frightened women and children from their homes. Screaming and cries of anguish filled the humid dawn air.
I attempted to drown it out and ran to a small stone house. The door was locked, so with a powerful kick I knocked it from its hinges and rushed into the building, sword in hand. What I was greeted with filled me with fear and sadness.
Another soldier had broken in through the back door, and he had already cornered a woman and her two young children. Their eyes were filled with fear as the Easterling towered over them, ready to strike. At that moment I knew... I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't let them die.
"Stop!" I shouted at the soldier as he raised his sword. He turned and faced me, narrowing his eyes.
"Why?" His voice was filled with disdain.
"They're innocent, they've done nothing!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with emotion.
"War claims many, even the innocent," the Easterling said as he turned back to the woman and her children. I had to do something...
Without even taking a moment to think, I rushed the soldier just as he was about to swing his sword and tackled him to the ground. He struggled against me as I pinned him, refusing to let him go. His eyes flashed with anger and he attempted to reach for his dagger...
What followed all happened in a split second. He grabbed the dagger. I wrenched it from his grasp, eliciting a hiss of pain as his wrist bent back at an unnatural angle. I thrust the sharp blade into his throat, watching as the life quickly left his eyes as his last breath forced dark blood from his mouth.
I was shaking, and as the realization of what I had done hit me, I slowly rose and turned to the woman and her children. She was looking at me wide-eyed, as if unsure of what had just happened. Her eyes slowly traveled down to the blood-stained dagger that I was brandishing. I fell back and dropped the dagger, leaning against the wall.
"You're safe for now. Stay here and hide, I'll make sure your people come for you if any still remain." I was still shaking, and my voice was weak and came in short gasps. I didn't know what to do... If anyone found out that I had killed the other Easterling I would be executed, that much was certain. I would tell an officer that this house had been cleared, and then what? I only had one choice. I couldn't stay in the Lòke-Rim any longer. I would have to flee, and hope that somehow nobody noticed. I stood up and turned to leave, but stopped when I heard a soft voice behind me.
"I do not know why you did that... But thank you. You saved us." The woman's voice was filled with gratitude, and I nodded slightly. There was no guarantee that they were safe even now, but I would do my best to keep them from being killed. I exited the house and walked aimlessly into the street, looking for an officer. I soon saw the distinctive red scarf of one and approached him.
"Sir, I cleared that house. It was empty," I said, pointing at the building. He looked at it and squinted at me.
"Where is Yadir?" He asked. Morgoth, that must be the soldier I killed. Yadir. Now that I could put a name to that face... That face that was filled with shock at my betrayal. I felt a rush of remorse and sorrow.
"He moved on to that blacksmith shop next door," I said in as even a voice as I could. I was a bad liar and I knew it, but hopefully the scarf would hide any facial expression that would give me away.
The officer looked briefly at the blacksmith shop, then back at me. "Go make sure he's alright. He's my son, I don't want anything happening to him," he smiled faintly and put a hand on my shoulder. By the Maiar, this couldn't be any worse, I thought as my chest constricted. I began to feel lightheaded, but saluted and turned to go to the blacksmith shop. When I saw that the officer wasn't watching me, I turned and sprinted toward the culvert that we had snuck into the city through.
I didn't know where to go, or what to do. Everything felt like it was caving in on me. I felt hopeless. Just when my life was starting over....
I reached the culvert, and the last thing I heard before I crawled through was a familiar horn... And another horn answering it.
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