The Siege of Minas Tirith
It was a warm day, beautiful in fact, with the sun shining brightly, the wonderful climate betrayed nothing of what was to come. We had seen the army approaching for days now, waiting for them to some within shot of our bows. Finally, they did. Before we knew what was happening, a volley of black arrows flew out from the opposing army, blotting out the sun. Next to me, a man toppled off the wall, filled with arrows to the point of looking like a porcupine. Almost instantly, our archers returned fire, a volley of arrows as thick as the one sent at us by the opposing army, but it did not stop their rapid advance. Soon, they were at the gate, and began bashing at it ferociously. The men of gondor were valiant, shooting volley after volley down upon the oncoming orcs, but to no avail, the gate was reduced to rubble in a
matter of minutes.
As I heard the crash when the gate splintered, I sprinted down to it, drawing my sword as I ran. I passed beepbobit, the bard, who was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. “What are you doing?” I shouted to him.
“I’m documenting the tale of the siege of the white city, and of my own personal account of the events that are transpiring here today, If our intelligence is correct, the 12 are coming.” He looked into my eyes and I could sense the fear and dread in them. “If it is right, then no one here will survive.”
“The 12? But they’re just a fairy tale, told by gondorian mothers to scare their children into behaving, like the bogeyman.”
“They most certainly are not! The 12 are very, very, real, and very, very, dangerous, most of all, their king, Dimitri, who is leading the attack.”
Suddenly, a black arrow shot by his head cutting off his sentence abruptly, and embedding itself in the wall behind him. I turned, and threw my spear at the archer, about to sprint back down the stairwell from where he had come, but toppling over with my spear through his stomach. I turned to beep, but he said, “I’m fine, that arrow just missed me.”
He pocketed his paper, and we sprinted down the stairs to the gate. When we reached the bottom, we saw complete chaos. The opposing line had already wiped out almost all of the fighters attempting to stop them from pouring into the city. As I stepped over the body of a slain orc, to get to the battle over on the left side of the gate, I heard a vicious roar from directly behind me. A huge troll, covered from head to toe in armor, carrying a huge, jagged sword, was lumbering towards us. We ran, but from behind it came about twenty more orcs, running as fast as they could with their bowed legs. One caught up with me, and with surprising strength pushed me against the wall. He said something in the guttural tongue of the orcs, which I could not understand, but I was sure it was unpleasant. he raised his axe to cleave my head in two, but suddenly a blade sprouted from his chest. He toppled and where he had been stood luke_pyle, his face and sword already soaked in orc blood. He pulled me up then handed me a potion of strength, saying, “Drink this, it’ll make you able to fight better.” Then he ran off back to the battle. I looked around for a second, to see if there were any more orcs near me, but was stopped short the second I heard it. “NAZGUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” just as I heard the shout, a scream tore the air, wrenching me in two. I screamed, as well as all the others around me, and fell to my knees, clenching my ears. As the pain died away, I got up, as I saw an orc rushing towards me, sword raised. I stuck my sword out in front of me and it ran into it, sinking to the ground. suddenly we all heard it,
*PHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*
Theoden had arrived.
It was a warm day, beautiful in fact, with the sun shining brightly, the wonderful climate betrayed nothing of what was to come. We had seen the army approaching for days now, waiting for them to some within shot of our bows. Finally, they did. Before we knew what was happening, a volley of black arrows flew out from the opposing army, blotting out the sun. Next to me, a man toppled off the wall, filled with arrows to the point of looking like a porcupine. Almost instantly, our archers returned fire, a volley of arrows as thick as the one sent at us by the opposing army, but it did not stop their rapid advance. Soon, they were at the gate, and began bashing at it ferociously. The men of gondor were valiant, shooting volley after volley down upon the oncoming orcs, but to no avail, the gate was reduced to rubble in a
matter of minutes.
As I heard the crash when the gate splintered, I sprinted down to it, drawing my sword as I ran. I passed beepbobit, the bard, who was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. “What are you doing?” I shouted to him.
“I’m documenting the tale of the siege of the white city, and of my own personal account of the events that are transpiring here today, If our intelligence is correct, the 12 are coming.” He looked into my eyes and I could sense the fear and dread in them. “If it is right, then no one here will survive.”
“The 12? But they’re just a fairy tale, told by gondorian mothers to scare their children into behaving, like the bogeyman.”
“They most certainly are not! The 12 are very, very, real, and very, very, dangerous, most of all, their king, Dimitri, who is leading the attack.”
Suddenly, a black arrow shot by his head cutting off his sentence abruptly, and embedding itself in the wall behind him. I turned, and threw my spear at the archer, about to sprint back down the stairwell from where he had come, but toppling over with my spear through his stomach. I turned to beep, but he said, “I’m fine, that arrow just missed me.”
He pocketed his paper, and we sprinted down the stairs to the gate. When we reached the bottom, we saw complete chaos. The opposing line had already wiped out almost all of the fighters attempting to stop them from pouring into the city. As I stepped over the body of a slain orc, to get to the battle over on the left side of the gate, I heard a vicious roar from directly behind me. A huge troll, covered from head to toe in armor, carrying a huge, jagged sword, was lumbering towards us. We ran, but from behind it came about twenty more orcs, running as fast as they could with their bowed legs. One caught up with me, and with surprising strength pushed me against the wall. He said something in the guttural tongue of the orcs, which I could not understand, but I was sure it was unpleasant. he raised his axe to cleave my head in two, but suddenly a blade sprouted from his chest. He toppled and where he had been stood luke_pyle, his face and sword already soaked in orc blood. He pulled me up then handed me a potion of strength, saying, “Drink this, it’ll make you able to fight better.” Then he ran off back to the battle. I looked around for a second, to see if there were any more orcs near me, but was stopped short the second I heard it. “NAZGUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” just as I heard the shout, a scream tore the air, wrenching me in two. I screamed, as well as all the others around me, and fell to my knees, clenching my ears. As the pain died away, I got up, as I saw an orc rushing towards me, sword raised. I stuck my sword out in front of me and it ran into it, sinking to the ground. suddenly we all heard it,
*PHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*
Theoden had arrived.
