“It’s a good day for crows”
Jaime Lannister rode atop his white charger, the morning sun reflecting off his plated armor. His banner, a fierce lion, blew in the morning wind. Today would be a day worthy of lore, thought Jaime, the day he threw down the false king Aragorn and took his rightful place as ruler of Middle–Earth.
He looked at the motley assortment that made up his host prepare. The mountain men strapped on boiled leather while honing their axes to sharp edge while his knights rode by his side with their chain mail rattling under their armor.
Jaime smiled as he looked about, victory was all but assured. He merely need make an example on the battlefield
Aragorn walked amongst his men, their eyes becoming lively as he passed. For those bold enough to match his stare he offered a quick nod before continuing on through his ranks.
The name alone made him grind his teeth. It had been nearly forty years since the fall of Moria, a time marked by peace among the realms of men but it was all lost when the blonde–haired bastard showed up.
Denethor apparently had a third son, one sent away and kept secret, even from the likes of Gandalf. After hearing of Boromir’s death Denethor took no chances and had the boy sent away to train and learn.
When the boy grew into a man he came forward to take the crown he deemed to be rightfully his. Leading an army of wild men from the mountains and those still loyal to Denethor, Jaime Lannister swiftly moved with arms towards Gondor.
At first no one took him seriously, with naught but savages wielding clubs at his back. But his victory over Eomer at the Westfold quickly caught the attention of Middle–Earth’s leaders as his tactical prowess was put on full display. Shortly after, Aragorn honored his allegiance by immediately riding out o Gondor’s aid, with the a full host at his back.
Word from his scouts confirmed that Jaime’s host had grown as his influence spread throughout Middle–Earth. Like dark tentacles binding weaker men and luring them to his side. However, Aragorn was sure he could turn the tide with this battle, one beating would surely send the boy packing.
Jaime watched as Aragorn’s army marched into the field, their silver armor matching the color of the tree on his banner. His host was larger than Jaime had anticipated, with the number being closer to seven thousand than the five thousand his advanced scouts had predicted.
Jaime drew his sword and marched his army forward. He nodded at the commander of the cavalry, who lead his host out to the flank. Jaime hoped to crash against Aragorn’s first host and cripple him quickly.
Aragorn watched as Jaime’s army appeared, a ragtag group that nonetheless had significant strength in numbers. He watched as Jaime’s cavalry disappeared into the woods to the east. Aragorn smiled, the boy had a taste for tactics but was relying too heavily on trying to overpower his opponent quickly. Aragorn was not going to bullied.
He ushered his army forward.
The tow sides were still for a moment, then rushed with the sudden intensity of a cheetah.
The armies met with a ferocious impact. Spears disintegrated against shields while men hurtled into each other, sending veracious vibrations throughout the field. For awhile the lines held against each other, with no side gaining an advantage before Jaime signaled for his cavalry. They cut through a portion of Aragorn’s men before meeting a section that resembled a porcupine made of spears and shields. The horse’s cries overpowered everything else as they were impaled against the wall of men. Jaime cursed as he watched, the battle would rage much longer than he thought.
Jaime was not one to wait during battle and upon seeing his cavalry cut down, he charged into the battlefield. His prowess as a swordsman was legendary and he lived up to the billing. No man could trade more than two blows with him before being cut down and his men took heart, marching forward as their commander lead on.
Aragorn watched as Jaime Lannister cut his way to the front lines of battle, he had known this moment would come and yet he could scarcely believe how gifted the boy was with a sword.
A pity, he thought, that he hadn’t been there at the Battle of Helm’s Deep. His sword would have been useful that day.
Aragorn then charged out, racing through his ranks to the front lines, cutting down the Lannister host as he went. The mountain men were ferocious but undisciplined and fell to a superior swordsman. Soon Aragorn found himself facing Jaime, while the armies seemed to clear a space for them.
“Now, you will yield to the true king!” roared Jaime.
Aragorn didn’t respond other than to raise his sword. He had faced greater evil to become king and he wasn’t going to let an usurper challenge him now.