It is the 15th of March, year 3019 of the Third age, and The White City of Minas Thirit is breached. With Gondor's setback in the Battle of Osgiliath, along with the impending assault coming from Sauron's Morgul host, plus King Théoden of Rohan having not come to stop it all in time Denethor the Steward of Gondor had been so dismayed that he had drank himself to death.
As Pippin had been singing him a song, the man had choked on his wine and died on the spot before Pippin's eyes. Due to this Pippin was quickly executed by being tossed down from the highest level in Minas Thirit, leaving Gandalf extremely furious.
"Oh no, not again." Gandalf complained having lost another Hobbit on a quest of his.
And despite the brave efforts of Faramir, Osgiliath was not retaken, Faramir died, and the white city became isolated and set under siege.
After that the enemy had attacked with much greater numbers than had ever been anticipated. The sheer number of their dead rotting corpses stacked up against the white walls of the city were enough to climb over and enter the city, no siege towers were needed after that.
Along with this, 12 Nazguls came down from the skies riding upon their foul Fellbeasts, the beasts claws ripped men to shreds, armour was useless before them especially as men were thrown off walls by them, or simply snatched into the air and dropped down to their deaths.
Gandalf did his best, but set back after set back, and loss after loss the defenders were nonetheless driven ever higher to the city's upper levels. Soon before the day was out the second level was lost and the third was about to be breached on the second day of the siege.
By now most defenders and lots of civilians lay dead, or their bodies were simply being feasted upon by the Orcs. Moral was low amongst the defenders, children and girls had been forced to take up arms by Gandalf who tried to motivate them all by holding a speech.
"Courage little ones, courage for your friends and families. Remember if you die, they also die, so fight like your lives depend on it, because they do. And fear not for death is only another path, white shores and a better life awaits for you in death."
Surprisingly the speech didn't help much, all hope seemed lost, until suddenly the mighty horn of Rohan sounded across the Pellenor Fields. And as all turned to see the source of the sound they all beared witness to the awe inspiring sight of the Rohirims, arrival onto the field.
On a long sloped hilltop 6 thousand riders formed a mighty, thick, line. Their white and golden armour gleamed in the light of the rising brilliantly, their hoofbeats seemingly made the earth quake and the hearts of lesser creatures quake in fear. And then as the dark clouds over their heads closed the sun from the earth again, there before the riders seemingly stood a sea of black, a sea of Orcs along with tens of thousands of all kinds of creatures of darkness, there seemingly before them was their fields of doom and death.
Still they held their ground as another mighty Boom of their horn sounded. At that sound the bent shape of the king sprang suddenly erect before their army. Tall and proud he, King Théoden seemed upon his mighty white steed, and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before.
"Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden! Fell deeds awake, fire and slaughter! spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, and the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to the White City!"
With that he seized a great horn from Guthláf, his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst all eardrums that were too close and made their horses cry out in pain as they fell to the ground with blood coming from their ears.
And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.
"Ride now, ride now! Ride to the White City!"
Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane, and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it.
After him thundered the knights of his house quickly over taking his slower galloping pace letting him quietly slip into the safety of his army. Éomer rode there in front though, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and there in the front the first rider roared like a mad berserker foam and spit flying from his open mouth, but Éomer could not be overtaken so easily.
Mad he seemed, or maybe it was merely the battle-fury of his insane fathers running through his veins like a new fire of even greater insanity. And in that moment Éomer was born a new, for he felt like an immortal God of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young surely couldn't match his mad yells.
His golden shield was uncovered then as the sun shone through the dark clouds, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For it was a beautiful morning indeed, even the wind from the sea came from behind him pushing him forth ever faster.
And the hosts of Mordor's front lines wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the hosts of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.
***
Unknown to both Gondor and Mordor, the Drúedain had secretly guided Théoden's army safely through the Drúadan Forest, via an old hidden road built by the Men of Gondor long ago, and forgotten by all except the Wild Men.
This allowed the Rohirim to circumvent the defenses of the enemy on the northern road and attack the forces of Mordor from the rear. Rohan was also not alone, for they were joined by men from Dunland who wished to journey to Minas Tirith to fight with Gondor against the Dark Lord.
Due to the dismantling of the Rammas Echor, the great ancient outer walls surrounding the White City and the fields of Pellenor, Sauron's forces could not mount a strong defense, and Théoden's forces quickly overran the northern half of the Pelennor Fields, or so it should have been.
For while their charge was great, many lines of Orcs fell and fled, the fact was that before the riders of Rohan were more than 4 hundred thousand Orcs and Uruk-Hai, along with thousands of trolls, and many thousands more Warg riders.
Due to this the Rohirims earth seemingly shattering charge had been slowed to a crawl, until it eventually came to a complete halt. Due to this the front lines of the Horsemen quickly found themselves squished in between Orc spears, trolls and plenty of Wargs in the front and their own Horsemen at the back. Quickly horses were stabbed by blades, smashed by troll clubs, bitten by wargs, so horses fell with their riders and soon men began to die in great numbers.
No matter how hard they fought or how many they killed, there seemingly always was another Orc to take the dead ones place. Quickly the Rohirim were beginning to be overrun.
And then within that desperate moment, from the sky the Witch-king swooped down with his mighty Fellbeast mortally wounding King Théoden, who was crushed by his own horse, Snowmane. Seeing this all Éowyn and the brave hobbit Meriadoc Brandybuck rode up to face the Witch King while other riders around fled for their lives and Orcs dared not get close to their Lord.
With but an uninterested motion of his black armour clad finger the Witch King let his Fellbeast do with the two as it wished. However Éowyn managed to skillfully dodge the Fellbeasts strike, and cut its foul head, killing the winged steed upon which the Witch King rode. But although the Witch-king fell to the ground, he remained unharmed, and merely stood up menacingly, readying his mace to crush his foe.
With unnatural force of 10 men he swung at Éowyn with his mace, who managed to block the attack with her shield, which shattered under the great mace's force and broke the woman's arm. Éowyn's arm was totally shattered from the impact, bones stuck out from it as blood squirted out, while the Witch king slowly removed his mace from the wound seemingly taking pleasure in the bloody sight.
Legs weak Éowyn fell to the ground screaming in agony, and the Witch-king lifted his mace for a final blow. But as he did so, Merry, who was behind him, charged ready to stab at him in the back of the leg with his Barrow-blade.
The Witch-king however was no blind fool and merely brought his mace around sending the little hobbit flying high into the air. The Brave Hobbit Merry had his chest, lungs and heart all crushed to a bloody mess. And before he even hit the ground the Hobbit was dead.
Éowyn though was quick to fight through her agonising pain and used this great sacrifice of Merry to drive her sword straight towards the Witch Kings face, but she failed to reach his head before she herself received a hammer on the top of her head. And so Éowyn was dead.
Still the Horsemen of Rohan under the command of Éomer continued the fight alongside their poorly equipped Dunlending allies that weren't of much use. Sadly the savage Dunlendings were mostly malnourished, dressed in rags and armed with tools such as some woodcutting axes. Though their deaths did still manage to bring smiles to some of the Rohirims faces who hated the wild men from the depths of their hearts.
At the same time within the city Gandalf tried to get the footmen of Gondor, and the child militias defending their precious city to launch a counter attack, but most refused to go. Gandalf merely managed to send a few hundred or so of them to their deaths against the Orc Hordes.
Still there was strength in the forces of Good, Imrahil and his 2 thousand Swan Knights, along with 1500 Gondor's regular cavalry had arrived on the field.
Even so, they were all outnumbered by the Orcs and especially the trolls as the enemy committed all its reserves that it could fit onto the field from Osgiliath into the fight. As the tide of battle worsened even more against Gondor, the Men of the West were dismayed to see the Orc raiders of Umbar apparently arrive.
Not Long ago Umbar had still been under the grips of men, but due to the 12 Nazguls and their Orc Legions all of them, just like everywhere East of Gondor had been taken by the Orcs. Now no men lived there anymore.
However neither side knew then that Aragorn and the Grey Company, with the help of the Army of the Dead, had vanquished the fleet of the Orc Corsair Raiders in the Battle of Pelargir.
The Army of the Dead partially repaid their debt to Isildur by driving the Corsairs upon the ships mad, causing them to jump overboard, drown themselves in buckets and made them fall upon their own blades. After loading the ships with as many men of southern Gondor as possible, they sailed north to the battle.
Upon arriving, the enemy found itself in a disadvantageous position, with their enemies coming from behind them, from the river Anduin where they least expected. The extra reinforcements brought by Aragorn punched a wide salient within the most vulnerable area of the Mordor-host, severing the forces nearer to Minas Tirith and the ones close to the river.
However with the Witch King on his black steed, and the 11 Nazgul flying above the battlefield the Orc's held their ground. With the help of the Witch Kings dark magic, the Orcs found themselves capable of clashing swords with the dead army.
Even still the Men of Gondor, Rohan, and Dunland used this tactical advantage to the fullest, slowly routing the enemy with prolonged infantry charges and rapid cavalry cycle charges.
The tactical and morale advantage was effective in turning the battle into a tactical retreat of the Mordor host. Although most of the Mordor host were still spared thanks to the Witch King as they slowly, and orderly retreated back toward Osgiliath.
There the Mouth of Sauron held his ground with his Caragor and Graug riders. Along with another few legions of Orcs. There he rallied the fleeing Orcs and prepared them for another assault upon the White City.
The battle was over by sunset, with most enemies dead and a meager few still fleeing away. But still that day Saurons armies had merely suffered a momentary setback. While the Men of the West, especially Rohan with their King and Éowyn dead had suffered a great loss.
In addition to the lost commanders, nearly all the 6000 Riders were lost, either wounded or dead. While the men of Dunland were mostly buried somewhere amongst the many piles of bodies where they were forgotten about.
However, despite all of this and with most of the city's defenders dead, the newcomers from southern Gondor and more arriving by prior order of Aragorn, made it so that the city was better defended now than before the battle.
Even still, with Gondor now United under Aragon into a New United Kingdom much stronger than ever before, and ready to fight to the bitter end against the forces of darkness. Gandalf still could only wonder where was The One Ring?
For nearly 3000 years the Ring had been lost, for none had ever seen it after Isildur lost it. Even the great enemy Sauron himself seemed to be at a total loss on its whereabouts.
Because of this Gandalf was at a loss on what to do. He had brought the Hobbit's along this journey of his in hopes that he would find it along the way and gift it to them, also he still felt himself in need of proving Galadriel wrong, Hobbit's were useful. Sure Bilbo might have been consumed in dragon fire, but still he hoped for at least one of them to prove themselves eventually to be of some use.
Aragon on the other hand was sitting upon his new throne with his head held in his hands, as he cried quietly to himself and asked.
"Why, why, why is it like this? Men of Rohan, men of Gondor, my brothers. Within them all now I only see fear that takes the heart of me. It seems that the day has come, the courage of men has failed, we have forsaken our friends, and broken bonds of fellowship. The Elves have abandoned me, the strength of men is drained. And now the hour of darkness, the hour of shattered shields and broken hopes, when the Age of men comes crashing down is near. But even still it is not this very day, this day, I still must wait for my end as we are seemingly forced to fight a hopeless fight to the end. Fuck fuck fuck, damnit where is the strength of men, of the dwarves, of the elves and those fucking useless Hobbit's when you need them?"
***
Unknown to Gandalf or anyone else for that matter, 556 years ago something had happened that the ring did not intend. For the Ring had been found by Smeagol, the Hobbit known to be bullied for his long ears, and for having an obsessive need to train his body in hopes of being accepted by his brethren.
And while his training had made him stronger, taller, and his ears made him sharper than the others it had never been enough. He was still an outcast, but still he had one friend that he liked to go fishing with.
And just like everyday, Smeagol had gone fishing with Deagol on Smeagol's special thirty-third birthday. And on that day he had jumped into the water to catch a fish with his bare teeth, but in doing so he had accidentally found The One Ring.
Seemingly entranced by it and feeling jealous Deagol his beloved cousin and his one and only friend had tried to take it from him.
Like a beast Deagol had fought him for it, biting and scratching Smeagol. But within Smeagols endless wisdom and want not to harm his cousin he had intentionally swallowed the ring.
Angered by this Deagol had tried to kill Smeagol on the spot with his fish knife, but Smeagol resisted and ran away. Soon after in another attempt to kill Smeagol Deagol had tried to poison his meal, but only managed to make Smeagol sick and kill his entire family.
After learning of this something dark had awoken within Smeagol, and within brought daylight Smeagol had impaled Deagol upon a sharpened fishing pole. Before all Deagol had been lifted into the air with one end of the pole through his ass and the other coming out his mouth.
In a rage Smeagol roared.
"Damn you, you you fucking bastard, Deagol I hate you! I hate you, I hate you! You made me do this, you spread those rumours about me, you were the first to call me Gollum. Gollum Gollum Gollum! You you, you fuck, you traitor, I hates you, I hates you! Gollum, Gollum, Gollum!"
Horrified by the sight of this, the other Stoor Hobbit's gathered in force with their hunting bows, pitchforks and dogs, and gave chase to Gollum. They wanted his head for what he had done, Deagol was loved by so many while Gollum was not, and within the forest of Mirrormere Gollum ran in hopes of hiding from them all.
Covered in the mud gathered from the river Gollum hid within the bushes, he didn't want to do it, he really didn't, but seeing one of his former neighbours looking for his head Gollum was enraged. And with bloodshot eyes Gollum sneaked out from the bushes, went behind his former neighbour and with his own fish knife silently sliced his fucking throat deep. The surprised Hobbit tried to scream, but only bloody gurgles were heard as he fell lifelessly to the ground.
Gollum seeing this merely spat on the corpse, climbed up a tree, and from there he jumped down upon a Hobbit's back, and once more a throat was sliced and one more Hobbit fell, his blood covering the green forest floor red.
From Gollum no-one was spared, dogs, Hobbit men or even the few small Hobbit women of Deagol who had given chase to him. Gollum felt wronged, he had tried to be good to them and this was how they decided to answer his attempts of being good to them?
Gollum was enraged and soon it consumed him and turned him into something that no longer could be recognised as a mere Hobbit. Somehow the ring had begun to infuse itself with Gollum, his rage seemingly causing his stomach to boil with such hatred that it melted away the ring within him.
While slaughtering his former friends, Gollum began to feel each kill and wound he took beginning to make him stronger. Pain, anger, hatred and exercise made him grow.
The hunters arrows hurt him, but as he pulled them out and hid, the wounds healed within minutes. His fists felt powerful, with them he knocked out one fat Hobbit to the ground, the fat slob fell. Then placing his fat head on a rock so that it looked as if the fat hobbit was eating the rock with his mouth open, he them stomped his fucking head Into the stone breaking teeth and stretching the fat Hobbit's mouth open beyond its limits. And as he continued to stomp his head, soon the skull gave way and brains spilled out onto the forest floor.
Taking the fat Hunters bow Gollum then moved onwards. Shooting the Hobbit's legs he made them limp, and then with a rock he smashed their heads in. Quick deaths by blades were too good for his enemies, only clubs, his hard fists, his teeth or rocks would do.
Soon the Halflings morale began to break and as they ran they yelled in a panic.
"Murderer murderer, oh Lord run for your lives his crazy! His a crazy murderer, run for your lives!"
Gollum hardly could believe it, Murderer they called him. They actually called him a murderer, even though it was merely self defence, Gollum Gollum, Gollum. Those fucking bloody bastards, those lying bitches, how dare they, he thought as he angrily sent the last of his arrows loose and threw rocks at them.
A few fell at the edge of the forest where Gollum was quick to smash their heads in as they pleaded with him.
"No no no, please Smeagol don't! It's me remember you know me, I give you free beer from time to time, you can't kill me! You psycho fuck!"
No more did Gollum care about these comments, his anger made them all go through one ear and out the other as he sang.
"Lalalalaaa I can't hear you, lalal la laa, please die under my feet, and my beautiful rocks and knuckles!"
But then within the slaughter something strange happened. As he was smashing one of their heads in with a rock, his hand suddenly started to glow, and with each strike the rock started to change into a bright white crystal that when fully formed shattered against the dead Hobbits skull.
Realising this, Gollum grabbed another rock and within it he poured his power. From next to his heart a warmth travelled through his body and into his hand, and from there it went within the rock. And as it did so, the rock began to change within minutes, it was as if the light was consuming it as it suddenly changed into a bright white crystal stone, a light stone of sorts.
It was warm, it seemed to be healing him and giving some small light like a small candle light. Putting it within his pocket Gollum then in worry of getting attacked by the Stoor Hobbit's or their man and Elven friends, Gollum then headed towards the mountains. Moria was his aim and there he hoped to find a new home for him self, a home lit by his own light stones.
There he would also plan to stay as he was by now seemingly banished for life from his previous home. Gollum Gollum Gollum, he muttered to himself in anger.