The standard bearer (Elrond x oc)

6. The Great River

It was a good hour before dawn when Sergeant Gillow woke his company.

"Come on now, boys! Let's have you. Up and ready!"

Sleepy grumbles soon gave way to appreciative murmurs as breakfast was brought round, and by the time they had eaten and the sky was greying, the whole company was alert and ready.

"Right lads. We're coming up to Minas Anor. We still hold the city, but past it the enemy controls the right bank. The landings at Osgiliath are the danger point. I need you archers in the rigging, and along the rails here, anywhere you can get a clear shot. You others, have your weapons ready in case they try to board."

Ahead of them the gorge between the Hill of the Guard, on which was built the city of Minas Anor, and Emyn Arnen loomed darkly. The right bank was still in shadow, the steep and rocky slopes covered with loose boulders. Just as they drew abreast of the city, the light of the rising sun came over the shoulder of the hill and lit upon the roof of the White Tower causing it to gleam like a beacon. A loud cheer rose from around the ship at this good omen, and for the first time all present, sailors, archers, horsemen and soldiers, seemed as one, a single front against the enemy.

Gildinwen was brushing Loreglin, and watching the city pass by, when Lord Falcred wandered up to talk to her.

"Good morning." His voice was soft and rich.

"My lord."

He held his hand out to Loreglin. "Is this your horse?"

"Yes, but please be careful, he's rather ill-tempered."

He rubbed the horse's nose affectionately, "He seems in a fine mood this morning."

Gildinwen looked on with an incredulous smile on her face. "I don't believe it! He never likes anyone!"

Falcred flashed her a boyish grin, "Well, since your horse approves of me, maybe you'd do me the honour of joining us for a little breakfast."

"As you wish, my lord."

"Excellent." He led the way over the deck to where his companions were seated at table.

"These are my friends, Ragnor, Turin and Valmar." He gestured indiscriminately in their direction, before flinging himself carelessly into a chair. "I'm Lord Falcred, my father holds the lands of Lossarnach for Anárion."

"This," he gestured at Gildinwen as she settled self-consciously into a spare seat. "so Sergeant Gillow informs me, is the Lady Gildinwen of the House of Amarnon."

"Amarnon?" mumbled Turin with his mouth full. "Never heard of them."

"Neither had I, but then ancient history was never my strong point."

Gildinwen frowned uncertainly. Were they making fun of her?

"However," Falcred's voice took on a more serious note, "Old Gillow knows a thing or two, particularly about soldiers' superstitions, and if he says the troops will think that the flag this girl's carrying makes them invincible then I'm inclined to believe him."

"What that the flag makes them invincible?" chuckled Valmar.

"No, you fool," returned Falcred, aiming a crust a Valmar's head, "that they believe it." He threw the crust, but before he could tell if it hit its mark, a bone chilling yell reverberated from the valley walls.

The nobles sprang to their feet as one, drawing their swords and leaping away to the side of the boat. Gildinwen sat frozen to the spot, her hand tightly clutching the grip of her sword, her heart in her mouth.