Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Return of the Gundam ❯ The Stupidest Staging Area in Middle Earth ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

(What a stinking pain in the ass! I’m sorry guys, but if Media Miner doesn’t fix whatever problem it is that made me unable to post a Word document, I will stop updating this story on this site. I had to convert it to rich text and then completely redo the formatting to get it to post correctly. If that happens, I’ll mention it in my profile. You’ll still be able to read it on fan fiction.)

Chapter 3: The Stupidest Staging Area in Middle Earth

“This looks like a lot of men,” Treize remarked as they rode into the encampment of horsemen. Hundreds of white tents dotted the plain at the foot of a towering cliff. Thousands of horses were picketed in long lines under the trees.

“We will see better from the command camp on the cliff,” Théoden said. He pointed up.

Treize looked. A slender scar of a trail wound up the cliff face in sharp switchbacks, climbing to a dark shelf where a few tents could be seen. He blinked. “Your command camp is up there?”

“It affords a good view of the forces,” Théoden said matter-of-factly.

“A four meter tower would afford you a good view of the forces,” Treize responded.

Théoden appeared not to hear. He led the way to the trail and started up.

Seated in back of Zechs, Alexa leaned way out to look down. “This is cool! Look how high up we are!

“Could you not do that?” Zechs grumbled. “This stupid horse likes walking along the edge enough as it is.”

“Sorry.”

At the top, the shelf turned out to be quite deep, forming a long canyon populated with spindly pine trees and narrowing to a dark crack at the back.

Treize looked around with lifted eyebrows. “I’m still not sure I see the value of putting the command camp way up here. The view is certainly spectacular, but I could see everything I needed to after the first switchback.”

Théoden frowned. “The King of Rohan has overseen his forces from this vantage point for centuries. The value is unquestionable.”

“Ah,” Treize murmured. “Tradition. Never mind.” He wandered off.

“Treize has a point,” Quatre said. “What’s the point of lugging a smithy all the way up here?”

“It’s not really a smithy,” Eomer said. “It’s just a sharpening wheel and a few other things.”

“What, like an anvil and a bellows and a coal-fired oven?”

“Yes, just a few other items for keeping weapons in repair.”

“And this is different from a smithy how?”

“Well, a full smithy would have iron and ore for new weapons.”

“Oh.” Quatre crossed his arms. “I think you’re just fooling yourselves. Anyway, now that we’re up here, what’s the plan?”

“When all the other commanders have reported in,” Eomer said, “we will ride out.”

“That’s it? No discussion of battle plans or anything?”

Eomer shrugged. “What’s the point? We’re cavalry. And we’ll probably be outnumbered. Our battle plan will be: gallop at them full-speed, hit them with our pikes, and then break up into skirmishes with swords.”

“Under the circumstances, that probably does make the most sense,” Trowa said from nearby.

Quatre stuck his nose in the air. “I wasn’t asking you!” He stomped off.

“Still mad at you, eh?” Eomer remarked.

Trowa sighed. “He’ll get over it eventually.” He gestured toward the back of the canyon. “But can you tell me what’s back there? Gimli and Legolas are both spooked and you don’t even want to know what the horses are saying.”

“Ah.” Eomer rubbed the top of his head. “That is the entrance to the Dimholt Road. It is an evil place, for it leads to the Paths of the Dead. No living man has ever returned from there.”

“Uh...” Trowa blinked once. “You realize that makes using this place as a staging area even more idiotic.”

“It is several hours walk to the entrance of the cave!” Eomer said defensively. “Ghosts are not going to spring up under our feet.”

“Yet, from several hours away, they’re close enough for the horses to tell me they think something wants to rip our hearts from our chests.”

Eomer’s eyes widened. “Really?”


“Oh. I wasn’t going to mention that. Sorry.”

Eomer swallowed and eyed the back of the canyon. “Excuse me. I have some duties to attend to." He strode away briskly, casting occasional glances toward the back of the canyon.

Zechs walked up with Jett in his arms. “Take this.” He deposited the little girl into Trowa’s arms.

“What’s up?”

“I was just looking over the edge,” Jett said defensively.

“And about to accept a dare from this young lady,” Zechs pulled Alexa around from where she was skulking behind him, “to disrupt the encampment below.”

“I just thought she’d get a really good echo from up here,” Alexa said.

“I do not think a stampede would help our cause right now,” Zechs replied sternly.

“It’s boring up here,” Alexa complained.“You could go to the mouth of the canyon and look for ghosts,” Trowa said. “The horses assure me there is something unrelentingly evil back there.”

“Really?!” Both girls immediately perked up.

Jett squirmed out of Trowa’s arms. “Race you!” She took off at a dead run, without much regard for the horses and men who were in her path.

“Wait up!” Alexa raced off after her.

“Don’t wander off!” Trowa shouted after them. “Dinner’s in an hour!”

“Is the canyon really haunted?” Zechs asked.

“Eomer said there’s a road back there that leads to some place called the Paths of the Dead and that no living man has ever returned from there.”

“Sounds interesting,” Zechs said, although he didn’t sound all that interested. “I’m going to look for Treize.”

“Yeah, sure, go snog when I’ve got nothing,” Trowa muttered, but Zechs was already out of earshot.

Eowyn approached looking forlorn. “These are hard times for the women of Rohan,” she said to Trowa. “The men leave and we never know who will come back. We have no choice but to wait.”

“That’s tough.”

“Indeed.” Eowyn sighed. “I would have prepared a last meal for you, but my uncle said I should let the other women do it.”

“Well, you are a princess,” Trowa said.

“I should carry more of the burden on my shoulders!” Eowyn exclaimed. “I can fight as well as any man.”

“I imagine so, but you should still defer to your uncle. He is the king, after all.”

“Yes, of course,” Eowyn said, clasping her hands together.

Trowa studied her face. “Are you planning to do something foolish, Eowyn?”

Eowyn started. “Me?! No! Of course not! Excuse me, I told Merry I would help him find armor that fits.” She scurried away.

Trowa shook his head. “She’s planning to do something foolish.”

As the sun set, a meal that consisted mainly of roasted meat was prepared. There was not the usual joking and lewd remarks that normally accompanied a meal among the Rohirrim, as everyone was somber thinking about what lay ahead. At length, everyone but those on watch retired for the night. Trowa had elected to take a watch, since he wasn’t getting any. Therefore, he saw a cloaked figure arrive quite late and go into Théoden’s tent. Shortly thereafter, Aragorn was summoned and went to Théoden’s tent.

Trowa went to the tent Treize and Zechs were sharing. “Hey, can you guys stop banging for a second? For some reason, Elrond is here. I just talked to his horse. He says Elrond brought Aragorn a sword.”

There was some muffled movement and a few moans. Then Treize stuck his head out. “You’re sure it’s Elrond?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s weird.” Treize came out of the tent.

“I’m going to sleep!” Zechs called after him.

“I’ll be right back!”

Trowa and Treize went around to where the horses were picketed. Aragorn was there, being confronted by Legolas and Gimli.

“I need to go!” Aragorn was saying. “Elrond says I must go to Gondor via the Paths of the Dead.”

“Then we’re going with you,” Legolas said matter-of-factly. “Our fellowship has shrunk enough. I will let it shrink no further.”

“Aye, the same goes for me!” Gimli added gruffly.

“Why do you need to go that way?” Treize asked. “What’s to be gained?”

“The ghosts there owe me a debt,” Aragorn growled. “I mean to collect it.”

“I see.” Treize exchanged a look with Trowa. “I think I had better go with you. I’ve had some experience with the dead. Give me a moment.” He dashed back to his tent. “Zechs, Aragorn and the others are taking off. Aragorn has a side quest, apparently. I’m going to go with him. You don’t mind, do you?”

Zechs glared at him. “Mind? Why would I mind? But you better not let yourself get killed again. That was extremely upsetting, you know.”

“Never, my love!” Treize kissed him soundly. “I have no intention of leaving you again. We’ll meet in Minas Tirith. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I am a man of my word.” Treize quickly gathered up his things and hurried back to where the others were waiting. Trowa had saddled his horse in his absence. “Thank you, Trowa.” He swung up onto the animal’s back and the four of them set out, trotting steadfastly into the spooky darkness of the canyon mouth.

Trowa walked back to the tent he should have been sharing with Quatre and stopped outside. “Say, Quatre? I thought you might want to know that Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Treize have left on a mission.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Something about collecting a debt from a ghost.”

“Thank you for letting me know, but I’m still mad at you.”

Trowa sighed. “I stand by my decision. Roku will be fine.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, because while you’re standing by your decision, you’re not lying beside me!”

“Why is everybody talking?” Jett whined sleepily from inside the tent. “We’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Quatre said. “It’s just Papa Trowa making noise.”

“Well, tell him to stop.”

“Stop making noise, Trowa.”

Trowa hung his head. “Right. Good night, everyone.”

“Good night, Uncle Trowa,” Alexa answered, also from inside the tent.

Trowa wandered away. “It’s going to be a long night.”

In the morning, Eowyn was stunned to learn that Aragorn had left. “But why?! We need him now more than ever!”

“Aragorn has his own battles to fight,” Théoden said. “This change will not affect what we have planned to do. Niece, I want you to govern our people in my absence. You are well loved and they will follow you.”

Eowyn did not look happy about this, but she acquiesced with only token protest. Trowa found this highly suspicious. Merry, on the other hand, protested vigorously when he was told he would be left behind.

“All my friends have gone to fight!” Merry exclaimed. “I don’t want to be the only one left out!”

“Nevertheless,” Théoden replied. “You must stay here with Eowyn.” The king would not listen to Merry’s protests and the unfortunate hobbit was left standing forlornly in the midst of the horses and men as they prepared to depart. But then, as the forces began to move out, filing down the steep trail to the plain below, one horseman snatched Merry up by his collar and plopped the hobbit in front of him.

“You can ride with me,” Eowyn whispered into his ear.

Trowa watched all this in silence from the back of his horse. Beside him, Zechs sat with Alexa in front of him, with Quatre on his other side holding Jett in front of him.

“Shouldn’t we tell the king Eowyn and Merry are disobeying him?” Alexa asked.

Zechs shrugged. “Why? I rather like their initiative. Let’s go.” He nudged his horse into the line of riders making their way down the trail and the others followed him.

Once out in the plain, the assembled forces formed into a loosely organized column and broke into a gallop.

Far away, skirting the edge of the dry, dusty plains of Mordor, where stunted plants and dry beds of stone spoke of where water had once flowed through fertile lands, Frodo, Sam and Hadeya looked without success for a way out into the plains that did not require them to pass through the massed forces of thousands upon thousands of orcs.

“It’s no use!” Frodo exclaimed tiredly. “There are orcs everywhere! There’s no way to get across!” In plain sight in the middle of the desert was their destination; the smoldering tower of the volcano, black smoke billowing from its glowing peak.

Hadeya scratched his head. “I admit it might be difficult to get across unseen. But it would take a lot less time if we could use the road. It goes the direction we need for quite a while.”

“But there are orcs all over the road!” Sam exclaimed. He pointed. “Look! Here comes another big group of them.”

Hadeya studied the approaching orcs from their vantage point above the road behind some boulders. “Yes, that is quite a large group. They’re very mixed, too. I see soldiers of all different sizes and shapes.” He glanced at the two hobbits. “Some of them are as small as you.”

Sam frowned suspiciously. “What are you saying?”

“I think,” Hadeya said, “that we should infiltrate these orcs. Then we can take the road.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Sam exclaimed. “Those orcs would eat us alive!”

“Not if they think we’re orcs, too.” Hadeya examined his companions critically. “You’re a little too clean, though.” He scraped his fingers through the dusty soil. “This is too dry, but I don’t want to waste any of our water. Keep an eye on those orcs for a second.”

“Why?” Sam peeked over the boulders at the orcs.

“They’re passing by too far away to hear us,” Frodo added, also watching the orcs.

“Ok, come here,” Hadeya said. “Take your helmets off and push your sleeves up.”

“What for?” Sam asked as the hobbits complied with his instructions.

“Like I said, you’re too clean.” Hadeya began smearing mud on their faces and hands.

“Where did you get mud?” Frodo asked curiously. He sniffed his hand. “It smells kind of odd.”

“Never mind,” Hadeya said. He smeared his own face and hands. “The smell will cover our scent and the mud will make our skin look rougher. We shouldn’t be recognizable as not being orcs.” He put his helmet on. “Let’s go.”

“What are you planning to do?” Sam asked fearfully.

“Join up,” Hadeya said. He led the way out from behind the boulders. The column of orcs had passed by, the rear of the line being kept moving by whip-wielding sergeants. The three of them made their way down to the road and then Hadeya gripped the hobbits firmly by the shoulder, shoving them roughly ahead of him. “Hold up! I’ve caught some stragglers!”

Two of the sergeants looked back.

Hadeya shoved Sam sharply so that he stumbled. “These fools thought they could sneak away.”

One of the sergeants jogged back to meet them, his whip at the ready. “Is that so? Well, we know how to deal with that sort!” His whip flicked out and caught Sam on the legs.

“Ouch!” Sam yelped. He jumped forward.

“Move along! Get with the others!” The sergeant flicked his lash at Frodo.

“Yes, sir!” the hobbits squealed and they raced to catch up with the rest of the soldiers.

“Good job,” the sergeant growled at Hadeya. “If these deserters had their way, we’d have no forces left to put in the field for the Great Eye.”

“That’s the truth,” Hadeya answered gruffly. He stumped along beside the orc to join the rear of the column.

“Here.” A sergeant handed Hadeya a whip. “Keep ‘em moving.”

“Right.” Hadeya flicked the whip experimentally a few times to get a feel for it and grinned. “I think I’m going to enjoy this part of the trip,” he murmured to himself.

So while Hadeya learned to appreciate the visceral pleasure of using corporal punishment to encourage obedience, Heero, Duo and Wu-Fei stood on the walls of Minas Tirith debating the relative value of catapults versus trebuchets as siege engines.

“The trebuchet gives you good distance with very large projectiles,” Wu-Fei was saying. “Plus, your potential energy is all in the dropping weight. You don’t have to wind anything.”

“That’s a good point,” Duo said.

“But either one can fail,” Heero said. “Your coiled rope can split on the catapult or your lever arm can break on the trebuchet.”

“Also a good point,” Duo conceded. “So if you had to choose, which way would you go?”

“That’s tough.” Heero rubbed his chin. “I think I lean toward the trebuchet. You can throw bigger objects with a machine that has a smaller footprint.”

Wu-Fei nodded. “I agree.”

Pippin raced up to them wearing his new uniform, a white tree embroidered on a black tabard. “Gandalf sent me to find you! The battle at Osgiliath was a disaster! There were almost no survivors!”

“Shit!” Heero exclaimed. “Gandalf called that one. Where is he?”

“At the main gate. The orcs are crossing the river. We’ll be under siege by morning. But there’s bad news!” Pippin added quickly when the three started to leave. “Denethor’s son Faramir was gravely injured! They’ve taken him to the citadel.”

Heero shrugged. “Tell Roku. He can fix him.”

“But Denethor isn’t handling it well! I’m worried about what he might do.”

“Then keep an eye on him!” Heero took off with Wu-Fei.

Duo clapped a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you. If Denethor loses it, I can handle him.”

“Thank you!” The two of them ran back up to the citadel. “What about Roku?” Pippin gasped as they raced along.

“I called him,” Duo answered. “He’s on his way.”

They pounded up the ramp and into the wide courtyard. As they dashed up to the palace doors, Roku swooped down, shimmering from a falcon into a tiger while he was still in the air.

“I thought something was wrong with Denethor,” Roku said. “He doesn’t smell right in the head.”

“How can someone not smell right in the head?” Pippin asked curiously.

“His chemical balance is messed up. I don’t think he sleeps.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Duo said. “His mind is a mess. It’s so jumbled up with knowledge it’s hard to tell what he’s actually thinking about.”

The three of them rounded a corner and found Denethor standing in the hall outside Faramir’s room issuing quiet orders to a handful of guards. He turned a scowl on them when they trotted up. “You are not needed here!” he said harshly. “I have lost all my sons! I need no companionship in my grief.”

“We told you Boromir is not dead!” Duo snapped.

“And neither is Faramir,” Roku added. “I would smell it if he was dead. And anyway, I can hear him breathing.”

“You know nothing!” Denethor cried. “You have deceived me from the moment you arrived and now everything is lost! Leave me in peace!” He turned to the guards. “Let none enter here! I want to be alone with my son!” He banged through the door into Faramir’s room and the guards moved together, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the door. They glowered at Duo, Roku and Pippin.

“What should we do?” Pippin whispered anxiously.

“Nothing for now,” Duo said, “but I want you to keep an eye on things here. If Denethor leaves, come and get me. Or at least start thinking at me really hard. I’ll hear you.”

“All right.”

Duo patted Roku on the head. “Let’s go down to the main gate. I think this siege is going to be a whole lot worse than what we went through at Helm’s Deep.”

“That’s good,” Roku replied absently. “Maybe we won’t have to listen to Papa Heero and Papa Wu-Fei complaining about not having enough enemies to kill.”

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