Chapter XXXVI: The Pelennor Fields
  A great cry of joy went up from all the ships as Minas Tirith�s white spires rose up before them, but the cry was replaced by angry shouts. Dark red flames burned on the lowest level and clouds of black smoke billowed up. The gate was broken; fierce fighting was taking place everywhere on the field of the Pelennor, but it seemed that the Enemy had the upper hand. Everywhere on the Pelennor desperate skirmishes were taking place; the men aboard the black ships could see the wild, dark masses of orcs wildly battling the armies of the West.

  As the black ships came into sight of the Pelennor, Aldamir knew that the men of the West must be gazing at them in despair, believing that now the Corsairs had come, the last stroke of doom, and that now all was lost. But Aragorn raised the black standard which Halbarad had carried from the North, and it broke out from the mast: a great black banner upon which the White Tree flashed out like sunlight. Above it, the Seven Stars and the Crown, wrought of mithril and gold, glittered like stars, the standard of Elendil which no man had borne since Isildur fell.

   The black fleet, led by the flying standard of Elendil, came swiftly to the docks at Harlond and moored there. Aragorn formed his troops as they disembarked, putting the cavalry, consisting of the D�nedain and the Elves, in the front, to fall upon the enemy�s infantry and clear a way for the men on foot. Halbarad rode by his side, bearing the great standard, and like the West wind they swept down onto the battle field.

   Fear�n�s hooves pounded like thunder beneath Aldamir as they rode down; he drew his sword and gripped it as the wind blew through his dark hair and streamed it out behind him. Beside him Lindir drew his sword as well, and the two exchanged a glance and a determined nod. Then Aldamir turned his eyes forward, taking in the scene before him.

   Enemies were thronging about the shattered gates of Minas Tirith; the men of the city were struggling desperately to drive them away. Mordor�s forces were scattered everywhere on the fields, cutting through the armies of Minas Tirith and Rohan. Aldamir could see that �omer had gathered his Rohirrim together for one last stand, but now a shout of joy went up from all the forces of the West at Aragorn�s arrival, and a shiver of dread ran through their enemies.

   The captains of the Haradrim, those closest to Aragorn�s advance, were rallying their men. They had almost no time to do so, but still there was a considerable force gathered to meet Aragorn and his army when he rode onto the battlefield.

   Aldamir saw it all in the few seconds he had before they rushed into the enemy�s ranks; the hard, scarred faces of the enemy, their standards of red and black, their stained swords and their long spears, pointed toward the advancing force, and the arrows on their bows, ready to fell Aragorn�s him and his comrades....

   Then they plunged into battle with a shout and a clash of arms, and during the next few minutes Aldamir had no idea how he managed to stay both alive and on Fear�n�s back. He didn�t hardly have time to draw breath as he battled the Southrons, whirling this way and that as he dodged their spears and swords and strove to keep Fear�n unharmed. Wild shouts and cries were all about him, filling his ears, blended with the hard, clear clashing of steel against steel. A Ranger fell at his side, pierced by an arrow, and Aldamir saw the blood stain his tunic as he fell, and the sword fall from his limp hand. In wild fury Aldamir cut his way through to the Southron who had shot the dart. He engaged in a short, desperate battle with the man, and after a few moments cut him down. A fury like he had never known came over him, and he fought as one possessed. Southrons thronged around him.

   Then a Southron sword slashed across Fear�n�s flank, and he reared wildly. Aldamir was thrown to the ground, falling lightly and rolling quickly out of the way. Fear�n was gone, charging through the enemies, wild with the pain of the wound, and Aldamir was left on foot to fend for himself.

   Before he had gained his feet, a laughing Southron loomed over him and shouted something in a southernn language which Aldamir could not understand. His sword came whistling down through the air, but Aldamir rolled away at the last second and the blade thudded into the ground, barely missing him. It stuck there, and the Southron was caught off guard. Leaping to his feet, Aldamir finished him with a quick blow.

   Now, however, he no longer had the advantage of being on horseback. He found himself at that moment separated from his companions, surrounded by dark-skinned southern men whose eyes gleamed dangerously as they saw him standing there alone. Shouting to each other in their unintelligible language, they closed in around him, and he wondered if it was the end.

   He readied his sword as the first man approached and blocked the blow with a quick parry, then disarming the man with a lightning swift move and finishing him with a quick stab. It was easy enough when only one fought, but now three or four were closing in, angry at the death of their kinsman, and Aldamir was hard put to fend them off. He felt a sword strike his left shoulder from behind, and staggered slightly as it cut into his flesh, drawing blood. That split second where he was caught off guard was enough for a Southron; he sent Aldamir to the ground with a heavy blow of his gauntlented hand.

   Aldamir tasted blood in his mouth as he raised his head, just in time to see a spear stabbing down toward him. Once again he rolled aside, but it caught in the rings of his chain mail. He was unharmed, but pinned to ground, almost defenseless. The Southron jeered at him, and raised his sword....

   But the blow never came. Something thudded into the man�s back from behind and he fell forward, dead. His body landed on top of Aldamir, winding him. He struggled to free himself, but in the next moment the body was wrenched off of him and Halbarad helped him to his feet.

   �Thank you!� gasped Aldamir. �If it hadn�t been for you I�d have been dead by now!�

   �It�s nothing!� replied Halbarad, and noticed his bloody shoulder. �You�re wounded!�

   Aldamir shook his head. �It�s not too bad; I�ll be all right. Don�t worry about me!�

   Halbarad clapped him on the shoulder and the two turned back to the battle.



   For several more hours they fought unceasingly, advancing steadily across the Pelennor. When the sun had begun to sink toward the western sky, they had vanquished most of the foes, but in some places the Haradrim had gathered together to make a last desperate stand and slay as many as they could. The greatest force of these men stood near the northern end of the field, and it was them who gave the armies of the West the greatest trouble. They would not give ground, and fought with an undimmed fierceness. It was here the D�nedain were fighting towards the end of the day. Most of the men of the North remained, but some had fallen to the enemies� blades.

   Aldamir was in the thick of the battle, fighting side by side with Lindir, when he saw Halbarad, desperately battling a tall Haradrim, go down.
  
   �Halbarad!� he shouted, and fought his way heedlessly to the fallen Ranger�s side. He lay face-down on the ground, motionless and limp. Aldamir turned him over, and grief wrenched at his heart. Halbarad had been stabbed in the heart; blood drenched his tunic, and his face was deathly pale. His eyes were closed, but he opened them briefly as Aldamir gripped his shoulders.

   �I....will not...live...� he murmured. �Tell....Aragorn...I am sorry....cannot serve him anymore...�

    Aldamir shook his head and tears filled his eyes. �Do not be sorry, Halbarad D�nadan, you have served him better than any of us...�
 
   Halbarad smiled slightly. �Farewell, Aldamir of the Elves......you have been.....a noble companion....�

   His head fell back slowly, and his eyes closed as life and breath left him.

   Tears fell from Aldamir�s cheeks onto Halbarad�s bloodstained tunic and cloak. �Hiro hyn h�th ab �wanath, noble man,� he whispered. �May Eru grant you everlasting peace and rest, Halbarad D�nadan....�

   Something hit Aldamir with a great blow in the side; he was thrust violently to the ground. Again an enemy man had tried to slay him with a spear, but again the chain mail had foiled him. Jerking away from the spear-point, Aldamir rolled over and got to his feet quickly. Dropping his spear, the man whipped out his sword and charged at Aldamir. The Elf caught his first blow with a parry, feinted, and dodged as the man lunged again. Seeing an opening, Aldamir drove his sword beneath the other�s quickly, piercing the man�s garments and flesh. As the enemy toppled, he yanked his sword out.

   But a piercing, burning agony in his ankle made him stumble and cry out with pain. His enemy was not dead yet, and had drawn his knife and stabbed Aldamir�s ankle as he fell. Staggering, Aldamir lost his balance and fell to the ground, his sword flying from his hand as he flung out his arm. He was out of reach of his enemy, but there were several other Haradrim around him who welcomed the chance to strike down a nearly defenseless Elf.

      In that moment Aldamir thought with a certaintly that it was all over; the journey ended here, in another second a blade would pierce his heart and he would lose his chance to see L�rien ever again....neither would he see Uruviel. He slumped backwards on the ground; waiting -- there was nothing to do. He was surrounded; death was certain.

   A shimmering, blood-stained blade swung up above him and he saw it descend.....
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