Account Of a Soldier Of Minis Tirith At The Battle Of Pelennor Fields

March – 14 – 15 – 3019

Account of Arathalion soldier and survivor of the battle of Pelennor Fields.

 

 

Legions of orcs marched in a steady beat kept by the trolls banging the drums, it sounded as if the walls of Minas Tirith were being shook from the underground.

Trolls were pushing massive attack towers that orcs were riding on so they could jump the walls. There armour was crudely made and there weapons were brutal and disgustingly shaped. The ground was hardened by this time by the beat of a thousand feet.

I could hear the roar of the orcs screaming in a tongue I have never heard. The gates were opened quickly so we could get Lord Denethors son Faramirs horse in, who was dragging Faramirs body slightly behind, we all thought he was dead.

It was around this time the enemy did the most disgusting and disrespectful thing that they could, they loosed the catapults, the stuff fired our fallen comrade’s heads. That angered me, I knew a lot of them they had gone to my school had trained with me and now they were dead. Next they started firing rocks at us from there catapults, the walls were crumbling the children were crying, babies held in dying mothers arms. Then over all the screaming you could hear Denethor yell “Abandon your posts, flea, flea for your lives!”.

Then the booming voice of Commander Gandalf came “Prepare for battle!”.

Then on his horse he went around yelling for the men to get back onto the walls and fight. Course everyone did as they were told and returned to their post. Then we started launching off our own defence trebuchets at the enemy. You could see they were dumb and wouldn’t move so some got flattened by the big bricks. We started firing back and forward between each other each taking toll on the forces.

 

Then these things like the stories of dragons I was told as a child arrived, them and there riders were dressed all in black, there sound was like death itself, screeching over and over. There were in total nine of these things rider and beast. The way they attacked was they would swoop down pick you up and drop you at a height, or just push you off your post and down you fell. Men ran and cowered behind things until these things left there area and went to another. People were freaking out and buildings were falling in. Then the towers got closer and the archers were ordered to aim for the trolls pushing the towers. Some towers got through and lowered their gates onto the wall and then the orcs on them would flood out and brutally kill and murder anything in front of them.

 

 

Then the enemy brought forward a big battering ram in the shape of a wolf with a fire in its mouth and eyes which gave it an eerie glow. There were at least fifty trolls manning the ram. They came at the main door with the ram, I was one of the ones who had to fight down by that door. When they broke through it looked as if Mordor had merged with Minas Tirith in a second or two. There were splintered wood everywhere. Then trolls broke through and the archers were ordered to volley at the trolls, killing most of them. Then a force of orcs broke through and ran at us savagely, I was there at the front line I now know that orc blood is black like there’s thoughts. I helped to take down a few of the trolls I still remember the wind in my ears when the troll swung at me. Gandalf started yelling “Retreat, retreat fall back to the second level!”. Then over the fighting I heard a horn. By this time I was nearly on the wall, I got up there just in time to see the riders of Rohan come over the hill as if they were a light in the darkness, a sun in the night, hope in the hopelessness. We were saved my first thought we are saved the Rohiirim are here. Even from my post I could recognise the man leading, King Théoden of Rohan.

 

 

Then the enemy turned around and got into ranks facing the Rohiriim. Then they started yelling and screaming as Théoden did. Then they all blew their horns and marched forward in organised form. The enemy volleyed there arrows in no sequencal order, but for every man and horse that went down three men were there to replace him. When they clashed with the enemy they trampled lots of them and then started slicing and spearing them.

 

 

Then out of the back of the battle big tusked beasts ridden by men blowing their horns emerged. They had big iron knifes sticking out of there tusks. Then the Rohiirim reformed their lines and charged at the tusked beasts with all their might. The beasts were not going down easily they were just chucking the Rohiriim out the way with their tusks and the men firing arrow after arrow into the horsemen. Then all of a sudden one beast lent to one side and then crashed into another one and then they both fell down dead. More and more of them started to fall after this.

 

Then another dragon rider thing swooped down and jumped into the heat of battle and attacked people. Then the first of the winged dragon things fell, dead beheaded by a warrior of Rohan.

 

 

Then into the heat of battle floats a mist, a mist I soon realise is actually an army of ghosts from an age long past. They were not killable. The ghosts kill so quickly and efficiently that they looked a bit like a deathly gas.

The ghost flock the city and kill all the enemy and leave my comrades and I alone. They destroy every orc, troll and beast that is seen in the city at the time.

 

 

After the battle, the ghosts all rally outside the gates and then they disappear into the air like nothing.

 

After the battle I walked around looking at the dead, men, women and even children had been butchered. When I saw a child that had been disembodied I thought of a thing I saw the orcs do, they threw a child up into the air alive, and then try and spear him on their pike the winner is the one who catches the child on the pike. Disgusting. After my grieving walk I went and started to help everyone pickup the dead and pile them in a neat pile then burn them, the enemy got defiled, heads torn off and put on pikes, spat on. The enemy survivors were lined up and executed on the spot. The rest were to be hunted down for sport and their heads held as trophies.