remember well when I first saw war. I was only a child, 13 to be exact and while I thought I knew everything I soon found that I knew nothing. For I was big and strong for my age but I still had a child's mind and imagination. How I longed to see battle! I looked forward to the day that I would hold a sword and fight in glorious battles that bards would sing of. With that idea I became a page for the Rangers of Gondor. Since I was too young to begin training I helped in other ways. Cleaning, polishing, errands, and other jobs, whatever was needed of me by the soldiers. When I was not at home or being schooled I was at the Training Grounds or the headquarters, trying to learn all I could. I saw many a good Ranger; many skilled warriors and all were kind to me. They would smile when I told them of my desire to become one and they encouraged me, telling me that if I wanted it bad enough, I would get it. One Ranger in particular became my mentor in many ways. His name was Halloran. A tall Ranger Bladesmen, with a kind face but haunted eyes, he often talked to me of becoming a Ranger amongst many other things. I would watch him train with his two swords hoping I could be as skilled as he was one day. I imagined fighting at his side against a great host, the two of us hacking our way to victory and glory. When I told hi of this he smiled sadly then explained that war and battle were not all that great. That people died and destruction was wrought when war came. I listened with the belief that it wasn't as bad, couldn't be as bad as he said it was. One thing he would always tell me was that a man must find his place in the world and be proud of what he was doing no matter what it was. I had thought he was talking of being a soldier of Gondor but in later years I finally knew what he meant. However, at the time I wanted nothing more than to be a valiant warrior of Gondor. To go into battle with my fellows and fight the good fight. If I knew then what I knew now, I never would have said those things. But then that is the ignorance and innocence of youth. For a short time later I got my wish.

looked on as Halloran kneeled, quite tired and trying to catch his breath. His face was haggard, had many cuts and bruises, and the stubble was getting dark and thick. My mind wandered back over the last few days. It had been a week since the siege began, though it seemed both longer and shorter than that. A great host of orcs had come from out of Mordor with almost no warning. They had swarmed over Osgiliath, overwhelming the tiny force there and continued on to Minas Tirith. If not for one Ranger who had been out camping, the first anyone might have seen the host would have been as they came in sight of the city. As it was they picked the perfect time to attack. The King was on a trip to Dol Amroth along with many of the senior officers to do a yearly inspection. They had been gone for two weeks and although a rider had been dispatched the second that the orc host was reported, it would still be some time before he could get back. Lord Aragorn's force was too small to be of much use anyway since there was only his personal guard to go along with the officers. A rider had also been dispatched with the Red Arrow to Rohan to seek the help of King Eomer but the Rohirrim would take some time to muster their forces and then a few more days to ride to our aid. We had no doubt that they would but I wasn't sure if we would all still be there once any help arrived.

s soon as the dark army had been reported the soldiers sprang into action and the junior officers left in charge did an admirable job in organizing the evacuation of the surrounding farms and people. The population had been moved inside the massive city and soldiers lined the walls of the Field of the Pellenor waiting for the enemy. I was there to help remove wounded, to bring arrows to the archers, and to give water to those who needed it. I remember seeing a dark wave approaching, not believing that this could be an army. It was thousands maybe tens of thousands strong and when the first wave struck it came close to nearly blowing all of us off the walls, so massive was the assault upon them. Only incredible skill and sacrifice kept our soldiers from losing the wall in the first hour alone. Fortunately we did seem to have one thing going for us; the orcs appeared to be more rabble than an army and had no clear-cut leadership. This was proved when at one crucial moment a break appeared in the lines on the wall and if the breakthrough had been exploited Minas Tirith might not be standing now, if any leader had seen it he would have sent reinforcements streaming into it, so obvious was the hole. The officers took hope that because that did not happen, that the orc host either had no leader or that the leadership was divided. However, it was only a matter of time before the sheer numbers of the creatures pushed us back across the Pellenor and into the city. The retreat was well disciplined and I watched from afar, for the pages had been sent back early, as our men retreated. Pride swelled within me as I saw them fight with valor and skill. Halloran was easily visible to me for I could see his two swords glint in the dull light of the fading day. He was amazing! Falling back with the rearguard it seemed that he alone held back the horde. Of course that was not true but he did appear to be everywhere. Whenever a break would appear or men faltered he was there, fighting, leading by example and many men rallied to him. The rearguard held the attackers back long enough for the rest to get inside the city. Then they fell back at a run for the horde was upon them. As the last entered the gate was closed in the knick of time and the orcs screamed their hatred of those inside as they were denied their prize. Inside the mood was grim and morale low but Halloran again was there, clapping men on the back, crying defiance to the enemy, praising the officers and soldiers for their courage. It worked and I thought that we were actually a little better off for at least inside the city we could better defend the walls with fewer men. The siege continued and with the dawning of each day the orcs attacked, fighting had been fierce and I even heard grizzled veterans from the War of the Ring say they couldn't remember it ever being this bad during that battle. As in that horrible fight the orc host could afford to lose hundreds in every assault while Gondor could barely afford to lose one or so it seemed to me.

hat was how we came to be at where we were then. Inside the city the people were frightened, hoping, praying. I again looked to Halloran as he kneeled in the dirt, now joined by several other Rangers. I listened as they talked of the battle. None knew how many they had slain, having lost count days ago. Halloran spoke of how his arms were sore from constantly lifting his swords to fight and at times he couldn't believe that he still had the strength to even lift them. There was lamenting at the thought of the many friends that had died and the fact that many more would die yet. Halloran stopped the others from continuing on with those dark thoughts saying that if they all lived they could mourn later, if they lived. For the host outside our walls was far from the only problem. The food stores were low as no one was expecting a siege and the water level was shrinking faster than a snowball on a hot summer day. The orcs could simply let us die in the city and never even have to lift a finger. The people were scared, the soldiers demoralized, and the situation beyond the description of desperate. I listened to all of this and my hopes sank and even a comforting glance from Halloran did little to raise them. I simply continued my work. That night I noticed that many seemed to be thinking the dark thoughts that Halloran had spoke of. It was unnerving to see so many brave men look as if there were no hope only despair. Into this maelstrom came the Queen. She came down to the people and helped to tend to them. She visited wounded soldiers in the Houses of Healing and gave comfort to those who would not see the rising or setting of the sun again. She walked along the wall in full view of the orcs and the death, speaking words of encouragement to the defenders. Telling them to hold out, that help would come and they would be saved. Where she went men stood straighter, soldiers felt their hopes rise, children were not scared, and all felt, if not security, peace. She did not fight, the remaining officers would not allow it and they were wise for it would have been devastating if she were to be lost. When I saw her she smiled at me and I felt my own spirit lift, she was so beautiful, so strong, so caring that I felt ashamed I was not more like her. I followed behind her and listened as she spoke to Halloran upon meeting him. They spoke longer it seemed to me and I heard too little to know what she said. As she moved further down the line, Halloran watched her go and I heard him say that she probably said that to everyone. I learned from another soldier later that she had told Halloran that he would help to turn the tide.

s that night receded into the dawning of the eighth day, the defenders manned the wall and waited but no attack came. I had only to look over the wall to have my hopes dashed that the army had withdrawn. The orcs were still there, just outside the range of the bowmen. They sat around their fires, eating, laughing, and waiting. Waiting for what, no one could tell. Many surmised that they had finally decided to let their enemies simply die of thirst and starvation. Others felt they were looking for reinforcements, although that seemed unlikely as they had more than enough to do the job. I was near Halloran who thought neither. He believed that they were teasing us, going about their business as if saying that Minas Tirith was nothing and that they could take it anytime they wanted, I soon found that he wasn't alone in that notion as many others also said they felt the same. What was more disturbing was that it was working and the Queen's work from the night soon appeared to be a wasted effort. I have often heard since those fearful days that waiting for death is worse than actually dying. That saying soon found support in all of us as it began to worm its way into the ranks as the apprehension built. Soldiers were on edge, watching, waiting for the attack. Few could sleep or rest well, nerves became frayed and some fights broke out. I watched Halloran as he helped stop several fights himself, yelling at the instigators that the orcs were laughing at them, smiling at the discord among the Gondorians. It was after one of those instances that I found him kneeling on the wall this time, trying to rest his overworked muscles and his beleaguered mind. As I came up to him, he smiled wearily to me and spoke words of comfort. I stayed near him for a long while, trying to take strength from the man who had become my idol. We were still and spoke little both of us wondered how long they would wait. We had our answer much sooner than we would have liked.

ust after noon, with the sun high in the sky but behind some clouds, a great cry came up from the field. Men leapt up at the sound, found their weapons and peered out at the creatures. I had been gathering water and so sudden was the roar that I dropped my buckets on the ground, the water soaking into the stones of the walkway. So deafening was the wail that I wondered if hobbits in the Shire were suddenly looking up from their doings to try and figure out what it was they were hearing. I could see Halloran at the center of the line looking down at the orcs and the grim _expression on his face was plain to see as well. I felt a shiver go down my spine that had little to do with the slight chill in the air. As I maneuvered to a better vantage point in the second circle I saw that the creatures were all standing up, holding their weapons above their heads, stamping feet upon the ground, and screaming at the top of their lungs. Just as I thought I could take no more they stopped yelling and an unnatural silence came across the area. It lasted for what seemed like days but was only a few seconds in time. It was broken as the orcs charged full speed at the walls, carrying ladders and ropes so that they could scale them to get to the soldiers atop them. Bows twanged and hundreds fell but thousands trampled over their fallen comrades, snarling, cursing, and even laughing. I couldn't help but think of a trip to the sea that my family had once taken. I was only eight years old as the ocean and waves crashed against the shore in an endless barrage and the castle of sand my sister and I had built crumpled into the water, not strong enough o withstand the force being brought against it. I wondered how long this castle could hold against the waves now surging towards it, hoping that stone was much stronger than sand. The first orcs reached the wall and were brought down by arrows, rocks, boiling oil, crates, and anything that could be thrown down. Others took their place and raised the ladders. Still more stopped short and thew the ropes upward, usually falling well short of the top but some latched on. Men ran around trying to dislodge them, trying to knock the ladders down. The orcs were smart, however, the ladders were heavy and they dug into the ground to help brace them against anything. The foul creatures streamed up their makeshift paths, up towards the men. Their faces were twisted into dark visages, smiling, spittle and foam flying from their lips as they screamed curses upwards. Soldiers cut at them, knocking many off. However, where one orc fell, four took its place and soon they began to force their way up onto the walls and the fighting became even more fierce as hand to hand combat broke out across the length of the line of defenders. I watched in horror as we began to lose ground. I felt so helpless from where I was. If I could just get there I felt I could help. Deep down I knew, however, that I would only get in the way and get myself killed. I looked back to see the ranks faltering, the orcs were about to break through and begin to swarm down the wall! Then he was there, Halloran, swinging his swords, fighting three orcs at a time it seemed. I only saw blades move like that one other time. They were blurs, first up high then down low, slicing from left to right and then right to left. Halloran cut a path back into the orcs, splitting their lines practically by himself. The others rallied to him as they had done before. Crying his name like it was a weapon itself, the soldiers crashed like a wave of their own into the horde of creatures. The melee was fierce and bloody for the orcs did not want to give the wall up. They fought harder; their animal faces snarling against the counter- attack, they again began to force their way through only to face Halloran again. The Ranger met them with two dozen others, combating a force of fifty orcs. It was no contest as the more skilled soldiers of Gondor pushed the invaders back. The price was high though, for I counted at least sixteen go down from that two dozen and there were so many other soldiers that fell all across the wall but they succeeded, the orc host was turned back and they retreated for now. The men cheered, they cheered Halloran and so did I.

hat is how it went for the next few days. The orcs would sometimes attack at dawn, sometimes much later even attacking one time only a few hours before sunset. Each time their main assault was on a different spot along the wall but as all the times before they were met and eventually driven back. However, the ranks were thinning as more men were killed or wounded while the host outside the walls seemed infinite in number. The severity of the situation could be seen in the Tower of Ecthelion one night. Many of the officers there were newly minted, battlefield promotions due to the fact that the senior officers were away with the King and so many officers had been killed that new ones were needed. Halloran was one of those. His courage and leadership had earned the respect of everyone there and all knew that it was in no small part due to him that we were there at all. I was in that room that night as I performed the duties of a kitchen-serving boy. I listened to the talk of strategy and I thought it funny, as the only real strategy was to hold until help arrived. The majority of the discussion centered on the curious behavior of the orcs and their attacks. Many theories were presented ranging from coincidence to stupidity. Halloran at one point interrupted and presented the one that was soon to become true. He argued that whatever leadership the orcs had was sending its forces to attack different spots at different times because it was looking for weaknesses in the defense. Trying to determine the best place to attack and at which time. There were many nodding heads after hearing that statement but all agreed that little could be done but to react to the attacks as they happened. To try and predict them would be suicide as less men would be manning other points due to doubling the men at another. And so the attacks continued with no hope of relief in sight.

wo days later something different happened. I was down by the gatehouse for the control of the doors to Minas Tirith helping with wounded and anything else that needed doing. The orcs had been concentrating on the left side all that morning, putting enormous pressure on it. As always the horde was driven back but they did something unexpected. As they began to withdraw from the left, a large force, thousands strong rushed the center of the wall. Almost instantly I heard the alarm given and looked up to see thousands of orcs pressing the center. Because of the attack to the left, more of the men were there, and because of the "fake retreat" that the orc host had done, our commanders were beginning to relax and were caught off guard. This had been going on for several days already and usually the retreat of the main attack force signaled a lull in the fighting. That time was used to rotate men in and out of the line. Rotating the soldiers helped to keep them as fresh as possible. This time though, we were caught with our guard down and it became clear what the orcs were after. The gatehouse. Even the dumbest orc knew that the gate was made of mithril, having been rebuilt after the battering ram Grond had smashed the old one during the War of the Ring. The orc horde knew that they would never be able to crack the doors let alone knock them down so instead they went for the gatehouse and to their credit it worked. So ill prepared was the center, so tricked were they that many barely had swords out of sheaths before the orcs were up on the wall cutting through them. A force of over a hundred broke through and began to descend toward the gatehouse. Smelling blood the attack was intensified all along the wall so that no help could be sent to the aid of the gatehouse. All that stood between the orcs and victory was a force of thirty men who were at the time rotating out, against over a hundred of the fiends. They formed a line about ten meters in front of the gatehouse in the shape of a semicircle. At the center was Halloran, his two swords gleaming in the noon sun. I was behind the force having been caught by the suddenness of it all and truth be told did not even have enough time to think about running away. I watched as the orcs, screaming so loud that even a nazgul would have held its ears shut against the shrieking, slammed into the defenders. The line buckled but held and they were thrown back but six men went down. The creatures came again and again they were thrown back but more men fell, the number dwindled. Help was on the way in the form of reserves from further up in the city but they would not arrive for a few minutes. The defenders here at this moment would decide Gondor's fate. If the foul beings opened the gate then the thousands of orcs outside would get in and overwhelm the defenses in minutes. All that stood between us and certain doom was nineteen men. Again the fiends attacked, red eyes blazing, cursing all humans, running as fast as they could. The roar of metal against metal was deafening as sword rang against sword, spear against shield. The semicircle closed in on itself then it broke and six orcs came streaming through straight at me. I didn't know what to do so I looked for a weapon finding nothing. They were close now, only seconds away! My eyes searched frantically and I felt their hot, stinky breath upon me. I looked in time to see an orc raise its sword over its head, I shut my eyes and prepared to meet death. The weapon never fell, I opened my eyes to see the foul, evil being grasp at its back and fall down. Upon a quick look I saw a dagger buried hilt deep in its spine. The figure of Halloran stepped in front of me and blocked another sword. He knocked me back telling me to get away but I sat unmoving in shock almost. I watched as Halloran fought the other five all alone. With one swing of his left he decapitated one, its head flying from its shoulders. At the same time he blocked another with his right and stepped back from the creatures. He spun on his right foot, extending his swords out and after stopping his turn threw his arms upwards. The two blades found a home in an orcs chest, it grabbed at it desperately trying to prevent its lifeblood from flowing out. Another orc attacked Halloran's left as he withdrew his swords; he kicked out his left leg connecting with the groin of the orc, stunning it. This left two for the moment to deal with. One went for the gatehouse, while the other attacked the Ranger. Halloran never hesitated. He dropped his right sword and drew a dagger; throwing it he hit the orc going for the house right in the back of the head just as it got to the door. It fell dead instantly. The other, however, smiling thrusted its sword forward and felt it bite into flesh. I watched as Halloran cried out in pain at the wounding. The orc blade had pierced his left side just above the waist, not very deep but deep enough to momentarily stun him. Seeing the orc withdraw its weapon, a scimitar and then prepare to finish the job awoke a fire in me unlike anything I have experienced since. I grabbed the sword of the orc that Halloran had killed right in front of me and began to run toward the two figures of orc and man. I realized, however, that I would never get there in time and so I threw the blade at the horrible creature, willing it to strike home. All it did was glance off its left arm and make it look at me with those red, evil eyes. It smiled cruelly but that small amount of time cost it and it looked genuinely surprised at the sword that had just pierced its heart. It looked up into the eyes of Halloran, blood bubbling from its mouth; the orc crumpled to the ground and Halloran withdrew his sword. He looked at me and mouthed his thanks then turned his attention back to the remaining creature now recovering from the blow it had received from Halloran's leg. I watched the Ranger dispatch with little trouble then turn to face the rest. The remaining orcs still outnumbered the defenders and it was only a matter of time. The formation soon fell completely and ten orcs ran straight towards us. Looking at Halloran, I picked up the sword I had thrown and stood next to him ready to fight. We waited, waited for the death that would surely come. The first orc was a meter or two away when it suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground. Thinking it had tripped, I was surprised to see another do it, then another. When the fourth one went down I distinctly saw the arrow protruding from its throat as the orc grabbed at it, gurgling its hate as it died. The reserves had come. Three hundred strong with several archers they made short work of the remaining orcs and the gatehouse was safe again. The whole encounter lasted maybe five minutes but they were quite possibly the most important five minutes in the history of Gondor or so I would come to think. Halloran kneeled on the ground next to me and I immediately went to aid him. As I was helping him I heard a new sound and it filled me with fear. I looked at the soldiers and I was puzzled at their reaction for they were cheering. Looking at Halloran I saw him smile and he stood up raising his arms in the air like the others. All along the wall the defenders cheered wildly while the orcs suddenly retreated. As I listened closer I recognized the sound for the horns they were and I looked at Halloran in excitement. He nodded confirming what he and the others already knew. The Rohirrim had come! Just as they have so many times from Eorl the Young to King Theoden and now King Eomer, the Horse Lords rode to our rescue. They tore into the host, thousands strong and began to cut a path to the city. One of our officers ordered the gate opened and for the Rangers to enter the field to fight with their allies. Halloran rustled my head and told me goodbye for now and he left, still bleeding but also still leading. Men swarmed after him; almost giddy it seemed to me. With the arrival of Rohan and a renewed strength from Gondor, the orcs were soon swept away. Just as in the War of the Ring they fled to save themselves and the host scattered, at least those that did not get away. Almost as fast as it happened it was all over and I stood by the gate for a while. Some time later I realized that I was crying.

t has been twenty-two years since the siege and I am now a man with a family of my own. I am not a Ranger but instead have found happiness as a simple cobbler. After the battle I resigned from the Rangers, as I no longer had any illusions about the "grandeur" of war. Instead I take pride in my work and in my family of a wife, two daughters, and a son. Quite often I come to the gatehouse where the lives of so many were decided in such short time and pay homage to heroes. I think of the men who fought and died here on this spot. From the thirty who had stopped the orc group initially, only twelve survived the battle. On this spot, ten meters from the house, the King had a statue erected of a man to honor those who had fallen. Today I have come with my son for I want him to know what freedom is about and the sacrifice that must be paid. I read to him the inscription on the statue.

Here upon this spot did many die

Here upon this spot did freedom we buy
For that was the price that had to be paid
So that all could be forever, saved
Lest we never forget
That day's sad lament
As heroes they shall be praised
Until the end of days.

y son looks up at the statue of the man and asks me whom he is. I choke up a little but then tell him the name. Halloran, just like his.

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