The arrow pierced the beasts wing, forcing the creature to land hard.  Yet Folco's attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere...

* * * *

Injured, but not dead, it 'walked' over to the fallen king.  But Théoden was not utterly forsaken.  The knights of his house lay slain or carried away by their terrified horses.  Yet one stood there still: Dernhelm the young, faithful beyond fear; and he wept, for he had loved his lord as a father.

"Begone foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion!  Leave the dead in peace!" Dernhelm called, yet now his voice seemed different, recalling some other voice.

A cold voice answered: "Come not between a Nazgùl and his prey!  Or he will not slay thee in thy turn.  He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye."

A sword rang as it was drawn.  "Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may."

"Hinder me?  Thou fool.  No living man may hinder me!"

It then that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel.  "But no living man am I!"  Dernhelm pulled free his helmet to reveal long flaxen hair and a feminine face.  "You look upon a woman!  Éowyn I am, Éomund's daughter.  You stand between me and my lord and kin.  Begone, if you be not deathless!  For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him."

The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt.

* * * *

Folco turned to see Halbarad (his Ranger friend from the North) surrounded by foes, having been cut off from Aragorn's party.

Folco fired an arrow at one of Halbarad's foes, hoping to open up a gap through which Halbarad might escape.  His arrow struck the brute in the back.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Mon 13 June 2011.

The flurry of arrows stuck out of the backs of three orcs to Halbarad's left.  But more were surrounding him.  Folco needed to act quickly to save his friend.

Suddenly the great beast beat its hideous wings, and the wind of the was foul.  Again it leaped into the air, and swiftly fell down upon Éowyn, shrieking, striking with beak and claw.

Still she did not blanch: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible.  A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly.  The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone.  Backwards she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away.  A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.

Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering above her.  With a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace.  Her shield shivered in many pieces, and her arm was broken; she stumbled to her knees.  He bent over her like a cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his mace to kill.

But suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide, driving into the ground.  Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the black mantle, and passing beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee.

"Éowyn!  Éowyn!" cried Merry.  Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength she drove her sword between crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her.  The sword broke sparking into many shards.  The crown rolled away with a clang.  Éowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe.  But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty.  Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumble; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of this world.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:13, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

"Hey uglies!" Folco yelled, firing another arrow.  "Your witch-king is dead."  He fired another arrow.  "There's no way you're going to win now!" He fired another arrow.  "And you're surrounding someone as insignificant as him?" He said, indicating Halbarad, hoping he was distracting them enough and drawing attention away from Halbarad.  He fired another arrow.  "I'm the important one here.  I've got the One Ring!" He fired another arrow.

Folco suddenly felt that he may have said the wrong thing when almost all of the Orcs stopped and turned his direction.  Overhead the shadowy shapes of the Ringwraiths circled around and headed his way.

"Fool!"  Halbarad said as he hacked down three foes.

Although he wasn't sure why he thought it would help, Folco turned around and started to run.  He turned around as often as he could to shoot a pursuing foe.  "Well, at least they're not concerned with Halbarad any more," Folco thought sarcastically.

Folco heard the swooping of wings, then felt himself knocked off his feet by large claws.  There was a thump and Folco looked up to see another of the Fell Beasts being ridden by another Nazgùl.  It's hooded face turned towards him and he could feel it looking into him.  It then screeched in fury as it realized he did not have the Ring.  The mount then lunged towards the hobbit with it's fanged mouth.

Folco recovered his wits and and fired into the maw of the imposing beast.

The arrow stuck fast into the roof of the beasts mouth.  It reeled to and fro, bucking its rider in an attempt to snap the arrow free.

* * * *

Denethor called for his servants. He had Boromir carried out of the Citadel to the Hall of Kings, where Gondor’s leaders are laid to rest. Denethor placed Boromir on a marble table and called for dry wood and a torch. Pippin warns the servants not to obey Denethor’s orders, as it is clear that the Steward has gone mad, then breaks the rule of the Tower Guard by leaving his post. He sends Beregond up to the Hall of Kings to try to intervene with Denethor, and then the hobbit goes in frantic search of Radagast.

Unable to find find Radagast Pippin ran to Saruman who remained in the Tower, forbidden from entering the city, and tells him of Denethor’s madness and the situation in the tower. Saruman seemed apathetic towards the old fools actions but relented at the hobbits insistance. Reaching the door to the House of Stewards, the two find Denethor’s servants bearing swords and torches, standing before the lone figure of Beregond, who held the door against them. Two servants had already fallen to Beregond’s sword. The men cowered at the sound of Saruman's commanding voice; even without a staff Saruman still had many powers.

Denethor threw open the door and drew his sword. The wizard decried Denethor’s madness, but the Steward says that Boromir has already burned. Rushing past, Pippin found Boromir still alive on the funeral pyre. Despite Denethor’s protests and tears, Beregond lifted Boromir and carried him away. Denethor, Saruman said, does not have the authority to order Boromir’s death.

Denethor laughed. Standing proudly, he produced from his cloak a palantír, similar to the Stone of Orthanc. At the sight of the stone Saruman's eyes glittered greedily.  Denethor warned that the West is doomed, as he has foreseen the black ships of the Enemy approaching. The Steward condemned the Fellowship for bringing a young upstart Ranger to replace him as ruler. Denethor wishes that things would remain as they always have been in Minas Tirith. He sprang for Boromir, but Beregond stops him. Grabbing a torch from a servant, Denethor lights the funeral pyre. He throws himself into the raging fire, clutching the palantír.

Pippin and Beregond carry Boromir to the Houses of Healing. As they exit, the House of Stewards collapses in flames, and Denethor’s servants run out. Soon after, they hear a great cry from the battlefield—the sound of Éowyn and Merry’s defeat of the Lord of the Nazgûl. A sense of hope returns as the sun breaks through the Darkness. Saruman discusses Denethor’s palantír with Pippin and Beregond. He says he had always suspected that the Steward possessed one of the seven seeing-stones. The wizard surmises that Denethor, in his growing distress, began to use the stone, and through it he fell prey to the lies of Sauron.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:02, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Folco quickly got back on his feet, and started running again, this time looking around for some of his friends that he could join, if only for moral support.

Glorfindel, Aragorn and the others were too far ahead, having followed in the wake made by Andùril and Aiglos.  The only one left behind as still Halbarad whose injured state prevented him from joining the others.

Folco attempted to get across the river (rolled 18; one of my first 3d6 was a 6, so I rolled another d6 and got a 3).

Folco successfully crossed the river and made it to Halbarad's side.

"It is good to see you my friend," the breathless Ranger said.

"Glad I could join you," Folco replied dryly.  "Now, how do we get back to everyone else?" He asked as he fired an arrow into the chest of another orc.

"I..." Halbarad leaned on his sword, blood dripping from a wound in his stomach.  He then collapsed to the ground.  Folco was left alone to defend his fallen comrade against a horde of orcs.

"Well, I better make this quick," Folco said.  "So I can at least attempt to heal my friend."  And with that motivation, Folco fired as fast as he could, hoping against hope that he did not run out of arrows or, for that matter, join his friend.

Arrows flitted from Folco's bow, keeping the foes at bay until, at last a sortie of Rohirrim came to their rescue.  Folco and the injured Halbarad were carried to safety where Folco collapsed from weariness.

* * * *

Folco awakened to find himself in a great stone building.  Lying next to him was Halbarad who looked pale and stricken.  His wound had been bandaged but he was breathing erratically.

Folco looked around for whomever might be attending to them (a nurse?) to see if he could find out how bad off his friend really was.

Merry accompanies the procession of Théoden and Éowyn into Minas Tirith, but becomes separated from them and is found by Pippin. Merry, Éowyn, and Boromir become patients in the Houses of Healing and grow silent and cold from being exposed to the Nazgûl. Hope wanes until Ioreth, one of the wise-women, mentions an old saying that “the hands of the king are the hands of a healer.” Radagast goes and finds Aragorn, who had not intended to enter the city in hopes of avoiding a confrontation with Denethor. Aragorn agrees to help but directs Imrahil to rule the city.

* * * *

As Folco moved towards a door on the other side of the room.  Upon opening it he saw as Aragorn came into the Houses, he was greeted by Pippin and Faramir (whose injured arm had already been tended to). He asked Ioreth and the herb-master for athelas, and eventually overcame their long-windedness and acquired some. Aragorn crushed the leaves and stirred them in a bowl of warm water. The sweet scent of the herb seemed like a memory of dewy mornings of unshadowed sun in some land of which the fair world in spring is itself but a fleeting memory.  The scent awoke Boromir from his fever. Faramir immediately affirmed Aragorn as his superior and king. Aragorn then tended to Éowyn.  The leaves crushed for her it seemed a keen wind blew through the window, and it bore no scent, but was an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not before been breathed by any living thing and came new-made from snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from shores of silver far away washed by seas of foam.  Last was Merry whose leaves smelled like the scent of orchards, and of heather in the sunshine full of bees.

After viewing this amazing spectacle, Folco found the courage to speak up.  "Pardon me, Lord Aragorn, but what of my friend, Halbarad?  He has been bandaged, but he is now breathing oddly, and looks very pale.  Is there anything you can do for him?"

Aragorn stood and furrowed his brow.

"Halbarad?" he asked.  He strode across the room and through the door.  He looked sadly down at his old friend.  Taking another leaf of athelas he broke it and steeped it in a bowl of water.  Immediately the scent of fresh pine trees on a spring morning swept the room.  Folco could feel his spirits lift.

Halbarad stirred and began to breathe easier but didn't wake.

"Stay with him," Aragorn said to Folco, then left to tend to the other patients.

Folco followed those instruction diligently, watching over his friend.  He wished he could do more.  "I just hope all of this is worth it," he thought to himself.  "I hope Frodo succeeds."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Mon 23 Jan 2012.

Odin and Glorfindel found Merry, Pippin and Folco in the Houses of Healing. Imrahil spoke to them but had to leave to discuss affairs with Aragorn. As he left, Legolas observed 'That is a fair lord and a great captain of men.' The other two hobbits eagerly asked questions about the Paths of the Dead. Gimli refused to speak of the experience, but Legolas described it.

Imrahil joined Radagast, Aragorn and Éomer while the five companions shared their stories.   Aragorn held a meeting of the lords in his tent outside the city. Saruman told the assembled captains that Mordor had not yet unleashed the greater part of its army. He recited the dying words of Denethor and then said that they can either attack Mordor or wait for another siege. Though Minas Tirith had fought back the first assault, the next would be much stronger. In addition, Radagast explained, the Ring of Power is now somewhere within the borders of Mordor. Should Sauron seize the Ring, all hope would be lost. Aragorn suggested an assault on the Black Gate of Mordor, reasoning that it was impossible to defeat Mordor without destroying the Ring, and that the Eye of Sauron must be diverted from the Ring-bearer as long as possible. Saruman predicted that Sauron would think that Aragorn has taken possession of the Ring and, rash with pride, had chosen to attack Mordor. When Saruman paused, everyone else was silent. Aragorn said he would go. Éomer and Imrahil said that some men would need to be left behind to defend the city. Aragorn told them that there are four thousand men who would arrive in two days to help them. They counted the number of their troops and realized that after they left adequate defense for Gondor, they would only be able to advance with seven thousand men. Aragorn believed that while attacking Mordor may prove fatal, it is their duty to defend against evil while it remains in their power to do so. The Captains agree to this plan.

Two days later the army was assembled. Glorfindel and Odin would go with them and Merry was upset that he was too hurt to go. Pippin marched as a soldier of Gondor and Folco with the Rangers of the North.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:09, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Folco felt a certain dread as he marched with the others off to nearly certain doom.  He just hoped he could somehow make a difference.  He was glad to be marching with fellow archer, in the Rangers from the North.  If he was going to die, he couldn't think of better company.