That night Aderthon found himself unable to sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, trying desperately to shake off the combination of anxiety and anticipation that plagued him. His body felt tired after hours of training that day, but his mind bustled with activity. So after several hours of nothing, he stood and dressed in loose clothing.

The night air felt cool as a breeze blew about him. He made his way up the street to the gate to the seventh level. He nodded to the guards as he passed through. Soon he stood at the citadel courtyard. Aderthon did not know why he'd come up here. But soon he saw a dark shape standing at the far end of the jutting spur. Aderthon went to him.

"Lord Aderthon," came the harsh voice of Kir, his thick Rhûnic accent heavy in the air.

Aderthon stood beside him. "Thank you for bringing my sister home."

Kir nodded. "For the first time in hundreds of years, the Coven cannot defeat the evil in Rhûn alone."

"You mentioned that Berúthiel cannot be killed while she bears the ring," said Aderthon matter-of-factly. He turned to face the black ranger. "How then will we win this?"

"I will bind myself to the ring," Kir reminded him.

The other man nodded. Then he spoke again, more quietly and with the utmost level of respect. "How is that done?"

"There is a pair of words in Black Speech that must be said, and blood of the new host needs to touch the ring," Kir told him.

"And the words?" asked Aderthon quietly.

Kir turned to face the commander now. His face was set with seriousness. "They mean 'ring' and 'bind'. Are you sure you wish to know them? The black speech itself is evil."

He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

And so Kir leaned in and whispered the phrase in his ear. Aderthon involuntarily shuddered at the sound. The speech of the Enemy sounded revolting, and yet dripped with power. The men returned to watching the darkness of night over the Pelennor.

"How long have you been fighting the enemies of the free peoples?" Aderthon asked several silent minutes later.

Kir spoke quietly. "I am thirty-two, and was born into the Coven. I became Master four years ago. I have been fighting for Vultur my entire life."

"Vultur? Eönwë, correct?"

Kir shrugged. "I am told that is what the elves call him. He is our god, and his worship commands we eradicate the shadow from Middle Earth."

"Then why not become an ally of the Reunited Kingdom?" Aderthon asked with a frown. "Why the secrecy?"

"In our experience, our methods frighten the other peoples. We do whatever is necessary, no matter the cost." Kir looked at Aderthon closely. "And it is illegal to be a part of the Coven in Rhûn, though many have joined us."

Aderthon nodded thoughtfully. His mind drifted to the battle that would come soon. With a heavy heart, Aderthon turned to look back at the flowering white tree. That tree had stood his entire life and never failed to flower. He hoped that it would continue to do so, for everyone's sake.

The son of Elrohir bid Kir a good night not long after, returning to his house with a few hours till dawn. The fatigue of his body finally conquered his mind. He slept. The following days went much the same as before, with training and council meetings.

When he awoke from sleep several days later, it was to the sound of warning bells. A battalion of rangers north and east had sent word from Cair Andros. The messenger claimed that an army of Easterlings ten thousand strong marched south and came but a half day behind him. Aderthon and Eldarion immediately set about organizing the army, speaking to their captains and arraying the troops out on the Pelennor. They strengthened the walls with a thousand men, using the other four thousand to guard the city.

Four hours later, Aderthon stood before his soldiers. This time they bore real swords, sharp as carving knives, and armor of steel and chainmail. Cloaks of red unfurled behind them while Aderthon's own was emblazoned with the White Tree. When a great many horns sounded across the Pelennor, the army stiffened as one.

Aderthon turned to his men. "Brothers!" He paused and looked all ten in the eyes. "I would ask for none but you to stand beside me this day. We find ourselves now on the edge of a great battle, one where tales of great renown will rise from. But even deeds done today that have no song written of are great in my eyes, and eyes of your king." He smiled and unsheathed his sword. "Together we will protect our city, our home. But more than that we protect the hope of Middle Earth and the Free Peoples!" He laughed gaily. "I know of nothing better to fight for."

His men, and all the surrounding battalions who heard his words cheered. The glorious sound of unsheathing blades rang out in the still air. As he turned back to face the field of green, they heard the pounding of hooves. A great cry went up. The wall had fallen, and the enemy advanced.

"This our hour!" cried Aderthon. "For the Free Peoples!"

His cry echoed through the ranks. He wondered briefly if it would reach the ears of Eldarion who fought on the other end of the army, or Aragorn who fought at the middle, surrounded by his citadel guards. As the army moved forward he smiled and swung his sword to readjust his grip.

Not too long after, the approaching army came into view. A few hundred horsemen led the charge, some dragging chariots behind them. These horses were picked off handily by the archers, and did not pose much of a threat. The army on foot, however. That remained a different story.

The armies clashed with great screeches and screams. The Gondorian forces were outnumbered two to one but their plan kept the Wainriders and Easterling forces from surrounding them. As they fought, the two sides traded ground. At some points, the army of the Reunited Kingdom surged forward, at others they fell back.

A great Easterling commander approached Aderthon an hour later. He raised his sword and rushed the man. The two engaged in combat for several minutes, neither gaining the upper hand until finally Aderthon landed a blow on the commander's left leg. He sliced behind his knee, causing the Easterling to buckle. But as Aderthon went to finish him off, a black arrow whizzed by his face, narrowly missing. Aderthon turned and saw an archer not far away.

Aderthon decapitated the Easterling commander and turned to face the archer. But he knew it was too late as the warrior drew back his bow. Thankfully, Faervel knocked the archer down, causing the arrow to misfire straight into another Easterling.

"Thank you!" Aderthon called, nodding as Faervel panted heavily.

His soldier nodded back and turned away, facing the fighting once more. Aderthon realized then to his dismay that the Gondorian army had been forced back nearly to the White City. Three thousand men still stood firm before the Easterlings, but unless aid came from Dol Amroth or Rohan soon, they would lose from the sheer numbers Rhûn possessed.

Another hour passed. More citizens of the Reunited Kingdom perished. Aderthon, seeing the walls nearby and the waning forces around him, growled in his throat and pressed all the harder. But a great shout went up. Aragorn, seeing the futility of the open field warfare, and knowing Rohan and Dol Amroth would arrive sooner or later, had ordered a retreat.

Aderthon and his guard kept a shield wall while the foot soldiers retreated into the citadel through the mithril reinforced gates in the black wall. He stood alone and saw, to his horror, the crowds parting as Berúthiel approached in her battle armor.

"Get inside," he barked to his men. "Now!"

They didn't have to be told twice. Archers rained down fury from the walls, protecting the last of Aderthon's men. The nephew of the King was the last to dart inside just as the gates closed shut.

Eldarion met him at the gates. "It is good to see you no worse for wear."

Aderthon clasped his arm in greeting. "You as well."

They turned as a great shaking of the gates was heard. The Easterlings used their chariots as a battering ram to attempt to break the gates.

"Come, we must find my father." Eldarion gestured for Aderthon to follow.

All around them men lay broken and in pain. The least injured soldiers took up defensive positions. Around a thousand men had escaped inside, plus fifty of each company of the rangers upon the walls. They found Aragorn in the gatehouse speaking with Círeth.

"Ten days' store," Círeth told Aragorn as they walked up.

Aragorn nodded. "It will be enough unless Berúthiel harnesses some kind of black magic as a weapon."

Aderthon approached them. "Where is Kir? Or Akilina?"

"Near the gate," Aragorn replied. His forehead bled from a light wound.

Eldarion nodded. "Our plan?"

"Hold out until Rohan and Dol Amroth arrive," Aragorn replied simply, sighing a bit at the news. "It would be folly to attempt to finish this battle on the open fields. We lack the men. I will not cast away lives without need."

Both commanders of the army nodded. They agreed completely, but Aderthon worried about Berúthiel. Suddenly the noises of battle stopped. Eldarion suggested they climb out onto the gate to see the current state of affairs.