The next morning, soon after they had broken their fast, Éomer and Déorhild went up together to Minas Tirith, Éomer stopping by the Houses of Healing to see his sister, who had still not awoken. 

They arrived shortly after the meeting of the leaders had commenced in the tower, the White Wizard finishing speaking about some person that Déorhild did not know. Also assembled was Aragorn, the two Elves, Legolas and Celebwen, Gimli, and a few others Déorhild did not know. 

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," Aragorn said after the two had taken their places. 

"It's only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping," Gandalf replied gravely. 

"Let him stay there and rot!" Gimli sputtered, taking his smoking pipe out of his mouth. "Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," came the reply from the wizard. 

A heavy silence fell upon them all. Déorhild, or Lothiríel, guessed that Frodo was one of those hobbits, carrying a weapon that bound the entire fate of Middle-earth, for good or for ill. They were seeking to destroy it in the mountain where it had been forged. 

"I've sent him to his death," Gandalf said sadly; probably not meant for anyone to hear. 

Aragorn turned to him. "No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgorgoth. We can give him that." 

"How?" Gimli asked, suddenly curious. 

"Draw out Sauron's armies," was the immediate response. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." 

Gimli choked on his pipe. 

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Éomer said quietly. 

Déorhild glanced up at him and gave him a small smile of encouragement. His eyes had the smile she needed. 

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn replied. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas put in. 

"Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?" Gimli laughed and got to his feet. 

"Sauron will suspect a trap. I fear he will not take the bait," Gandalf spoke. 

"Oh, I think he will," Aragorn answered, leaving the room before anyone could ask what he meant. 

"What does he think he will do?" Déorhild asked as she and Éomer left the room and headed back to the plain. 

"I do not know. I cannot imagine what he thinks will draw out Sauron. I think the whole plan is madness, through and through."

"And yet you will obey any command for battle that the son of Arathorn gives," she replied wryly. 

"Aye, but not because I see a victory at the end of it."

"Does any warrior see a victory at the end of a battle?" she questioned as they gradually descended to the lower levels of the White City, stepping around people and remains of the wreckage of yesterday's warring.

"Nay, that is truth. However, we must unite all the strength that we have for this last battle."

"Do you think this is the last one, truly?"

He nodded. "We won a victory yesterday, one that we did not in the least expect. There will only be one more decisive battle left. Aragorn knows this. That hobbit must destroy the Ring or else we are all doomed. I am not the only one that believes the whole future of Middle-earth rests on this one thing and that it will be concluded today. It is only a matter of time before we assemble our forces for this last charge. Will you ride beside me, Lothiríel?"

She looked at him and smiled, the sunlight sparkling in her olive-green eyes. "Aye, that I will."

A few hours later, the entirety of assembled and united forces were gathered together outside the formidable Black Gates, waiting in silence for a messenger to come forth. Surely, the Dark Lord had seen the approach of the challenging army. 

After a few moments had passed and nothing had happened, Gandalf, the two hobbits, Legolas and his companion, Gimli, Aragorn, Prince Imrahil, Éomer, and Déorhild rode forward ahead of their troops. 

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn called into the dusty silence. "Let justice be done upon him!"

A creaking and heaving of the massive gates was heard and the black, many-ridged structures opened slightly, allowing the passage of a horse and rider to come through. 

The person rode forward, if indeed a person it was. "My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome."

Déorhild was disgusted and muttered many things about that creature under her breath. 

"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" the nasty thing continued. 

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed," Gandalf snapped. "Tell your master this: the armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart from these lands, never to return." 

The Mouth of Sauron laughed, if that nasty choking, gurgling sound could be considered a laugh. "Aha! Old Greybeard. I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He held up a shimmering coat of mail, the like of which Déorhild had never seen before. 

"Frodo!" one of the hobbits cried. 

The Mount of Sauron threw the shirt to the wizard and Gandalf shouted, "Silence!"

The Mouth of Sauron snickered, "The Halfling was dear to thee, I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would have thought one so small could endure such pain? And he did, Gandalf, he did." 

Déorhild felt the anger bubble up inside her. Lies, all lies. 

Aragorn spurred his horse forward. 

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a King than an Elvish blade."

Aragorn withdrew his sword from its sheath and in one, fluid movement, removed the head from that nasty creature. 

"Well, I suppose that concludes negotiations," Gimli stated. 

Aragorn returned to them, saying heatedly, "I will not believe it, I will not."

All of a sudden, the great gates began to swing open. 

"Fall back! Fall back!" Aragorn cried, the others immediately obeying him. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" 

The black orcs began marching out, unfazed by the army before them. 

Aragorn began riding before the army, speaking words of encouragement to them. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see it in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of friendship, but it is not the day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!" 

In unison, they unsheathed their swords and waited in adrenalized anticipation for the battle to come. 

Déorhild watched in acute awareness as the black orcs completely surrounded the army, cutting off any means of escape. 

"Lothiríel," Éomer spoke quietly. "If we must die today, if Fate decides that we must perish, never forget that I have loved you."

"And have had my love in return," she replied softly, looking at him, tears in her eyes. "Forth, and fear no darkness," she repeated the words Théoden had said before his last battle the day before. 

He smiled, tears filling his eyes also. "Forth Eorlingas," he replied. 

Aragorn stopped before them and silence seemed to have fallen down heavily, as if all were waiting for the one movement that would start the battle. 

Aragorn glanced at his men behind him and whispered, tears in his eyes, "For Frodo."

Then he charged. 

And chaos replaced the silence that had reigned only moments before. 

The battle seemed to last on forever, though in truth, it was scarce an hour. 

Déorhild became separated from the rest, but all eyes were drawn away from fighting when the sky began to darken considerably and the Tower of Sauron shook and crumbled down, frightful sounds filling the air. 

"What is happening?" she asked of no one in particular. 

One more chapter left! 

~ Gwynnedd