By This was the prompt for my first official week as club leader. It was supposed to be the week of the Haikus but the weather made us cancel.
This prompt was to write a story from the point of view of an NPC from a book, movie, or game; pretty much any piece of media. NPC is a gaming term that means non-player character, so in this case someone who is not a main character.
I selected to write a letter from the POV of a soldier of Gondor from Lord of the Rings. This letter is based off the way the Battle of the Pelennor Fields is presented in the movie adaptation of Return of the King. This was kind of a sad pieces to write, I love the epicness of that whole portion of the movie but it is also sad. Peter Jackson rocked these films and Tolkien wrote such a magnificent mix of beauty and despair. Any, let me know what you think and happy writing.
My Dearest, I thought I was dead, was sure I was going to the halls of my forefathers when the armies of Mordor broke the gates of Minas Tirith. Their chant of Grond! Grond! will haunt my dreams forever. I don’t know how I survived the wolf’s head coming through the gates, don’t know how I stood my ground against the trolls. My friends, my brothers in arms were smashed flat, slaughtered and yet Mithrandir stood with us and would not let us falter.
We pulled back into the upper rings of the city, a black wave of death upon our heels. We held the middle gates, sure the end was near, that we had fallen, and then there were the horn blasts from the West. The Rohirrim, the horse lords had come! The air vibrated with the rumble of their horses’ hooves as they thundered across the Pelennor Fields, their songs of glorious death.
Those of us in the city rallied, bolstered by arrival. We had not been abandoned as we had feared. We thought victory was near, could nearly taste it, a hopeful breeze upon the air before the second set of horn calls. Despair had been my constant companion for many days, but now I nearly wept, nearly crumbled. Sure that this city that I love, this home of ours would fall. The Haradrim had entered the battle, their trumpting beasts more than a match for a whole herd of the glorious horse of the Riders of Rohan. Those of us still defending the city watched in horror as the riders were brought down, their shining hair matted with gore. And we wept to see the corsair ships sail into view upon the river. All the good peoples surely were dead, we were just waiting for the blade that would take us from this mortal plain.
An odd thing happened then, it was not corsairs that landed upon our shores but an unseen army – at least that is what the King, the returned King, told us later, before we marched through Ithilien. Reclaiming the land in the name of Gondor. He saved us, coming into the city once our foes had been routed. I was on guard at the houses of healing. He did not appear as a King then, in his blood stained armor and dark cloak but his hands saved us from the black breath of the wraths. He saved my comrades in arms when I was sure they would succumb to the darkness that had slain so many.
Now we march upon the gates of Mordor and though I do not believe we shall return this time I am glad for I stood and did not let the fear from that dark land break me.
Goodbye my love
Thank you KW Photography for allowing me to use your wonderful photos!
INSTAGRAM│TWITTER│YOUTUBE │PATREON
If you like the banner check out this design and others at Canva!
McGee Travel Tales 