In Defence of the White City

Upon those fields, now dark with the blood of friend and foe. The rumble of thunder was drowned out by the clash of steel upon steel, and the cries of men fighting for their lives. I managed to regroup a small force together, mainly men of Minas Tirith who had been at the walls when the Siege began. Torthon, the Sergeant, was not among them. "Knocked off his feet by a Troll", one said, "never got up after that!"

The situation was bleak. Though the Rohirrim had arrived, and the siege had been broken, would their aid be enough? It looked as though for every foe we cut down, five more would be there to take their place.

I looked to the men. They have shown their bravery this day, but dare I push it further? "One more charge into the Haradrim lines", I thought, "one more push, and we can regroup with the Gondorian forces beyond". A torn banner of Arnach, the three red roses on a white field, still stood proud amongst the sea of darkness ahead of us on the other side of the hill. We could reach them.

"Shields!" a cried to the warriors beside me, and soon one white tree became twenty. The Haradrim ahead readied their fell weapons to match ours. Then, I called the order... our cries too being lost amongst the rest.

- Thandanar, recalling a memory from the Battle of Pellinor Fields -