From the dark Dunharrow in the dull morning with thane and captain went the son of Thengel: to Edoras he came, to the ancient halls of the March wardens, mist covered, the golden woods were shrouded in darkness.
He bade farewell to his free people, to his home, to his high seat, and to the hallowed places where he had long feasted before the light faded. The king rode on, fear behind him, fate before His beauty he observed, oaths taken, all he fulfilled. Theoden rode on.
Five nights and five days to the east and onward rode the Eorlingas, through the Folde, the Fenmarche and the forest of Firien, six thousand spears to Sunlending, to mighty Mundburg under the Mindolluin, city of the sea kings in the southern kingdom besieged by enemies, by fire surrounded. Fate was leading them.
Darkness took them, horse and rider, the clatter of hooves in the silence was lost: so the songs say.
The men's shields shattered, the horses whinnied and the sound of their hooves shook the open field.
The shock had been terrible. Already, some men had died. The orcs, more and more numerous, were fighting back with force. The éored were beginning to despair.
Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, no doubt: a change. The wind was blowing in her face! The light was coming in. Far, far away in the south, clouds could be seen faintly, grey shapes that rose in wisps and drifted away: the morning stretched beyond.
But at the same moment there was a flash of lightning, as if lightning had burst from the earth beneath the City. For a shattering second it rose blindingly in the distance in black and white, with its tallest tower like a glittering needle, and then, as the darkness closed, there came, rolling over the fields, a great roar.
Elenwë stood at the foot of this flash of silver light.
At this sound, the bent form of the king suddenly straightened as if by the effect of a spring. He looked tall and proud again, and standing in his stirrups he shouted in a loud voice, so clear that none of those present had ever heard such a voice from a mortal.
-Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden! Terrible things are coming: fire and slaughter! The spear shall be shaken, the shield shall shatter, A day of the sword, a red day, before the sun rises! Gallop now, gallop! To Gondor!
With that he seized a great horn from the hands of Guthalf, his standard-bearer, and blew it with such a blast that the horn broke.
And straightway all the horns of the army were raised in unison, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm on the plain and thunder in the mountains.
-Gallop now, gallop! To Gondor!
The king suddenly shouted a command to Nivacrin, and the horse leapt forward.
Behind Théoden, his standard was fluttering in the wind: a white horse on a green field, but he was outrunning him.
Behind him, the knights of his house galloped with a thunderous noise, but he was still ahead.
Éomer rode there, the ponytail of his helmet fluttering with the speed, and the forehead of the first éored roared like the waves breaking on the shore, but Théoden could not be gained by speed. He seemed carried away by madness, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like a new fire through his veins, and he was carried by Nivacrin like a god of old, even like Oromë the Great at the battle of Valar, when the world was young.
His golden shield, uncovered, shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass blazed green around the white feet of his steed.
For the morning dawned, the morning and a wind from the sea, and the darkness dispersed, and the men of Mordor groaned, and terror came upon them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath passed over them.
Then all the army of Rohan broke into song, and the men sang as they slaughtered, for the joy of battle was in them, and the sound of their song, which was beautiful and terrible, reached the City.
Elenwë, surrounded by this protective aura, quickly became a fascinating and above all powerful warrior figure.
With the backhand of Ant Estel, she took the lives of the dark men of Mordor.
All seemed to be going well when suddenly, inhuman screams rang out in the sky. The Servants of Sauron, on their winged mounts, were flying over the battlefield, carrying riders and horses into the air.
Elenwë's heart was pounding.
She had to beat them. All of them, one by one, she had to destroy the Nazghul.
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The Daughter of the Moon Volume III
FanfictionAnd here, for the followers, is the continuation of Elenwë's adventures 😉 After learning who she was, surviving the battle of Helm's Deep, and finally coming to terms with her feelings for Legolas, the four companions made their way near the path o...
