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Author Topic: The Loyalty of the Soldier Son  (Read 356 times)


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The Loyalty of the Soldier Son
« on: April 22, 2020, 12:43:49 PM »
Their plan had been conceived in the cool stillness of their father’s halls.  All polished marble surfaces and gilt details, with sunlight blazing through windows of rippled glass, the chamber’s beauty and tranquility had been a world away from the menace the brothers met to discuss.

Gondor and Mordor fought over Osgiliath with all the ferocity of two feral dogs.  A recent assault had compelled their forces to concede the eastern shore, and to destroy the bridge - built by Gondorian hands - as they retreated.  An unavoidable act, one that guaranteed the structure would not fall into enemy possession.  The western bank could not be conceded indefinitely, however.  To control both halves of the crumbling outpost would be to allow the occupier a route across the Anduin.  Which was too dangerous a thing, this close to Minas Tirith.  Thus Boromir and Faramir, and the good men who served under them, were charged with purging the insidious clusters of the enemy from the western territory.  For Gondor, for the honour of the Steward, for the people of their great nation, for those who looked to the eastern horizon only to see it marred by the foulness of Mordor. 

If the morning was heavy with anticipation of the battle that was to come, nature did not know it.  As Faramir led his men stealthily along the riverbank, shrouded in shadows and blending with the foliage, they were treated to the occasional brilliant flash of sunlight on kingfisher wings.  Drawing nearer to their target - Osgiliath loomed pale and grey ahead of them - the wind changed, shifting from the scent of summertime flowers to something fetid. 

Filth and fire. 

Faramir wrinkled his nose and raised his hand, signalling for his men to halt their approach.  Beneath a vaulted ceiling of bracken and brambles he knelt, the dampness of the earth soaking into his breeches, as his keen gaze picked out various points of access in the ruinous walls of the abandoned city.  Their only witness was a disgruntled heron, who regarded Faramir beadily, watching with yellow eyes.

Boromir would lead the main assault, riding to meet Mordor’s forces head-on.  As the Orcs mustered, and the sons of Gondor drew near, the Ithilien Rangers would make their move.  A two-pronged attack consisting of hammer strike - all war cries and blazing glory - and a quiet knife deep in the side.  But for now they waited, a contingent of men drawing breath as one.

Such a fair day, one that would prove the last for some.


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Re: The Loyalty of the Soldier Son
« Reply #1 on: April 27, 2020, 02:42:21 PM »
The fight for Osgiliath was one that spanned over several months, a city once filled with life and people, was now a ruined battlefield for the continuous clashes of Gondorian and Mordor forces. The city had seen its fair share of disasters, it had stood through the Great Plague and even captured completely by enemy forces only to be thrown out by the one that carried the same name as him. Now it was Boromir's time to retake the city once more, it wasn't the first time and most certainly wouldn't be the last that the city would be tugged back and forth. The plan of the two brothers was simple, Boromir preferred those plans to the overly complicated and intriguing ones.

As he rode out through the gates of Minas Tirith along with the other soldiers, he felt the eagerness for battle flow through his veins. His confidence in retaking the city growing with each step they took towards it. The people that had gathered in the streets to watch the soldiers march to another battle. It had always annoyed Boromir, to see the city within reach of Minas Tirith, but rarely in their control. How much he would love to see the city return to its former glory, a city of which Gondor could be proud. Today would be the first step to reaching that goal and Boromir would give his life to achieve such if that was needed. He would not see the city fall in further ruin if he could stop it, Osgiliath would be in Gondorian hands again by the end of this battle and it would be so, for once and for all.

Boromir looked over his shoulder at the city of Minas Tirith, the people on its walls watching them ride to battle. His lips turned into a slight smile as he looked over the rest of the troops that accompanied him. With pride, he carried a great white banner carrying the sigil of Gondor. As the group approached the city, Boromir called them all to a halt by raising his hand. He could feel the energy of the troops behind him, they were all willing to give their lives to restore Gondor to all its glory and he wouldn't want to do it with anyone else than these men. He turned his horse around to face them, raising the banner high up into the sky for all to see.

"Soldiers of Minas Tirith...of Gondor, today we will reclaim our beloved city of Osgiliath. Our former capital, founded by Isildur and Anárion themselves. This city should have never been lost to the filth coming from Mordor, nor will it ever again after we have won this battle. We will retake the city and return it to its former glory, for ourselves, for our children and for generations to come. We will retake what is ours and show those foul creatures what it means to confront us." As he spoke the banner was taken from his hand by one of the other soldiers, allowing him to draw his sword, followed by the other men. "For Gondor!" he roared while his horse turned back towards the city, his cry for battle quickly followed up by the other men.

As they charged forward to the city, the silent air filled with the rage and anger of the charging Gondorians, their morale through the roof as taking back the city would be a great honour for every fighting soldier. Boromir saw the orcs scrambling in the broken buildings, it wasn't long before the first wave of arrows darkened the sky. "Arrows!" Boromir's voice yelled over the noise of horse hooves, only for his command to be carried further by other soldiers. The group scattered to reduce the number of casualties before joining back together again. Despite the tactic, there were still plenty that got struck by arrows, if not for the men, then their horses.

It wouldn't be long before they arrived in the city once more, orc blood would flow through the streets and the banners of Gondor would once more be raised from Osgiliath's towers, Boromir would make sure of that. Taking the horn from his side and bringing it to his mouth as they were to approach the city. It's unique and iconic sound filled the air, followed by the roars of the soldiers behind him. With drawn sword, he entered the city and it wasn't long before its blade was covered in black orc blood. Chaos quickly enveloped the city as their charge was met with an array of spears, taking down those that were unable to quickly act upon the danger. The sound of battle filling the city as Boromir and his men made their way inward.


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