2. The Battle of Greenfields
The Battle of Greenfields
In the year 1147 tragedy struck me as it had never struck before.
The Orcs had gone insane, it seemed. They were desperate and began to attack outside of the North Farthing. They were all over, and before I knew what had happened Ferumbras made pl;ans for us to go to Hobbiton. Although perhaps closer to the front, it was farther from danger. There was a soldier on every corner of Hobbiton.
I feared for the safety of my little Fortinbras and at first wanted to leave the Shire completely, but Herumbras told me that it was even more dangerous out in the while. And so I was tortured every day because I did not know the fate that awaited us. I did not know if my family would survive. Then one night Bandobras came to the little hobbit-hole we were staying in.
"Brother!" He said to Ferumbras, they embraced and laughed, though at the back of all our minds there was dread.
Bandobras met his nephew whom he had never seen before, and we had a great feast with our windows barred and doors locked tight. We spoke in whispers and kept our light low as Bandobras began telling us news of the front.
"The Orcs seem to be closing in on us," he spoke quickly, his tall body much too big for out small chairs. "They circled the Shire and are now moving in towards the Farthing Stone. They mean to kill us all!"
"NO!" I yelled, letting the cry escape my mouth before I knew it. The two of them looked at me in fear, as if my yell would bring all the Orcs here. "My parents," I explained. "They live in Waymoot, has that been attacked? And what of Tuckburough?"
Bandobras looked very grim there, and his eyes filled with sympathy. "Aye, they went through there."
I began to shake, I knew I might cry. My parents, my old hobbit-hole, my fields and little garden. Were they all gone? Destroyed by these most hated Orcs?
Bandobras eyes seemed to lighten up. "Do not worry sister, the Orcs did go through there, through every village, but not all were lost."
"All is lost! They will take Hobbiton and then return to kill all those remaining!"
"Nay!" Bandobras yelled and was on his feet, a rage in his eyes. "I will not let those fowl Orcs take my beloved lands! Not for all of Middle-Earth would I yield to such foul things."
"I will go with you." Ferumbras said suddenly, roused by his brother's speech.
"Ferumbras! You cannot leave us!"
"I must," he insisted, and we were all on our feet then. "I will protect my land and my family, whom I love dearly," he whispered and then kissed my cheek.
"You're place is here, with your family." I insisted.
"Nay, I place is on the battle-field with my people."
"Go and get your armour!" Bandobras ordered with some joy, and Ferumbras left the room to get his armour and bow, deaf to my tears and calls.
While he was gone, I stared, no glared at the horrible demon before me! I hated Bandobras then with all my heart. I felt that if I could have, I would have jumped upon him and begin to beat him. He felt the rage I was feeling, but did not look away or move to leave, he simply stared back at me with soothing eyes trying to explain to me that all would be well.
My husband came back then, and I thought for sure that it would be the last I would ever see of him, I grabbed at his hands trying to keep him inside, but he would not yield. Fortinbras began crying in his room, but even that did not stop him. The bolt was pushed aside, the door swung open and soon I was alone to my tears and crying child.
I knew what I had to do then, though I didn't know how I would do it. I went to my child's room, and soothed his troubled little heart. Then I found an extra bow and took some of Ferumbras old hunting clothing that fit me. How long I would be away, I did not know, so I left my hobbit-hole and went next door, ignoring all the looks the soldiers gave me.
My neighbours opened their doors to me and I gave them my dear and precious child and gave them instructions on what to do if I never returned. The begged my not to go, and I felt as Ferumbras must of when I yelled and grabbed him, for my mind was yelling at me to stay, but my heart pushed me out the door. My child did not cry, and I was thankful, for I knew I would not have left had he.
Out the door and down the street. I had no pony, so I had to walk, but I was used to that in all my travelling. I hadn't many arrows, and hoped that wherever I was going might have more arrows to spare. I knew where they had gone, for I had seen many soldiers go that way before, but I did not know what would be there when I arrived.
Everyone I met was tense and carried a weapon. They all knew that the Orcs were coming one way or another, and all knew that there was no escape. They would fight as the Orcs came, she however would fight them head on with her husband. Her son would be safe, but she could not leave her husband to fight this enemy.
"If you were a boy, you'd be a great warrior."
How many times had my father said that to me as a child? I had been content with whom and what I was, but now I saw the road clear before me. All hobbits must fight, and we must survive. As long as I was in my own home, nothing would be able to survive my attack. Not birds, and not Orcs now. I was almost 33 now, but I still had much left in my heart from when I was almost 13.
I walked all night long, thinking that my husband and Bandobras couldn't be far ahead of me. It was midday when I reached a line of hobbits burried deep in the mud with their arrows ready, shooting the Orcs that sometimes popped their heads out of the bushes to see what they were up against.
For the first time in my life I saw Orcs, most of them dead now, but some living and hiding. They were horrible grey creatures and smelled fowl even from this distance. Theier armour was crude, but effective, so the hobbits there told me.
"Bandabras went off with a band of horse men last night," a hobbit said as I layed in the mud beside him, my arrow still on my back. "Men and hobbits fighting together."
"They're bait, they are! They'll get all them Orcs following them and leading 'em right to us."
"The Orcs are all coming here? More Orcs?" Fear finally grabbed a hold of my heart, I felt its cold claws dig deep, and they would not let go, no matter how I tried to shake them.
"We wait, and when we see the Orcs we shoot."
"How many of us are there?"
"Oh... say 200 strong."
"And the Orcs?"
He stayed silent for a while.
There was great unrest along the line. Some hobbits were chatting, but most stayed silent, aiming their bows and conserving their arrows until they had a fine shot of an Orc in front of them. All the while more hobbits came forwards to help, sons and daughters alike.
"I fear what might happen if we fail," I whispered to my hobbit companion once more.
"Ain't nothing to fear, you won't know nothing if we fail, just know that we'll win, and we can all go home then, I think."
"I wish I had brought a knife."
"What do you need a knife for?"
"If they come close..."
"Aye... you'll work it out if they come too close," he muttered, and that did not make her feel any better.
At noon suddenly a platoon of Orcs strove forth. I was both in awe and terrified and the sight of the screaming creatures coming out of the woods towards us. I thought that my beloved husband must have been right behind them, and that thought brightened my heart some.
Hobbits all around began to shoot arrows, and many Orcs fell in the front and then were trampled. Stones were thrown as well, and I saw that that was just as well, because any Orc that fell to the ground was be trampled and they would die a nasty death beneath their comrades feet.
I began shooting my few arrows at them, each one hitting their targets, and I began remembering my childhood. If I pictured these horrible creatures as birds they didn't seen so horrible, as the same time they were such terrifying birds that I still felt fear. My heart turned to midwife Burrows, my parents and son then. With them in my mind I found courage, and when all my arrows were gone, I began to dig for rocks in the mud and threw them at the Orcs.
Suddenly the Orcs were upon us, and here we could not fight them. I ran a little way, my companion at my side. We found a pile of rocks and then began throwing them at the Orcs who would fall and either be trampled upon by Orcs, or stabbed to death by hobbits. The Orcs however continued to advance, and so we had to continually retreat to be able to throw more stones. I wondered if I had come upon my death. Surely there was no way out of this, they would advance, and soon we would fall, but then I heard a cry from behind me and suddenly a horse jumped over my head and I saw a man sitting upon it, swinging a sword.
More men followed suit and I watched in true awe as these men who came from nowhere galloped through the great crowed of evil Orcs and one by one slew them all. My breath caught itself in my throat as I realised that we had been saved and soon awoke to find my companion tugging on my sleeve. We ran forward with smiles.
"You have saved us all!" I yelled, wanted to hug the man who had now dismounted, but they looked grim.
"There are more Goblins coming, this was not part of our attack," I felt my heart sink once more, he called them Goblins, but I knew he meant Orcs. There were far more Orcs coming, and we had barely survived that attack.
"Cheer up little hobbit!" The man yelled, and his grey eyes twinkled, his bloodlust high. "You are among Rangers now, and the Goblins will not find way through us no matter what direction they come from. Even as we speak they are being pushed out of Eriador!"
"Eriador? Where's that?"
"Why that's where you are hobbit!"
"I am in the Shire!" I retorted with much pride. "And my name is Mirabella Took."
"Well Mirabella," he said, his voice low. "You are a stout hobbit, with a good heart. I can see that. If there are more like you, we will surely win."
"All hobbits have good hearts." I said.
"Aye!" Said my comrade, and the Ranger gave a slight smile, and then returned to his Ranger friends.
More arrows were given out, I was given more than I had even originally come with, and my companion and I began looking for rocks. We returned to our dike that now was filled with Orc corpses, but we ignored them as all the others did. Then with our rocks on one side, and our arrows sticking out of the ground on the other side, we waited.
The smell of rotting Orc got to me more than once, but I survived. Bugs that lived in the mud began bitting us all, especially seeing night was coming upon us, but still we waited. Talk of a great feast afterward spread through the line and I though I might die from the thought of returning home and having a nice cooked meal. All I had eaten out there was some stale bread and water.
When night fell the Ranger I had spoken with crawled in on the other side of me with his bow ready, he stared at my rocks with a little amusement.
"Hobbits fight with stones?"
"Just as good as arrows, you'll see."
"I may not, it is getting very dark."
"Light fires then if you cannot see Ranger!"
"My name is Folcred Mirabella, my sword's name is Menelmacar."
"Why'd you name your sword? That's silly. It's as if I were to name my rock," then I picked up on of the rocks and turned it over in my hand. "I shall name you Ise, after my father."
"Menelmacar is the swordsman of the sky, have you ever seen him?"
"Is he a constellation? We have different names for those."
"You cannot see him yet, but when he is up, I will show him to you."
"Why did you name your sword after stars?"
"When my father made this sword, he carved the constellation into the hilt, and so the sword took the name."
"I still think it's silly to name a sword."
"But it's not silly to name a rock?"
"I was only joking then!"
"Shh!" Folcred whispered, and I was silent, soon the entire line was silent. In the distance we could hear yelling and the beating of hooves. "The Orcs! Ready your bow!"
I threw Ise back into the pile and got my bow ready. I had to squint as the sun was already almost down, disappearing to my left. Then the screams were louder, there were Orcs yelling a battle call, or maybe a call of fear. I could not tell. But then I smelt the fowl creatures and saw them and the hobbits and Rangers let their arrows fly.
The Orcs began falling, they did not know what they were running into. Most of them probably had thought that the platoon of Orcs from before was here, but instead they found the enemy. We were perhaps 300 or 400 hundred strong now, I couldn't be sure. Hobbits had died in the first attack, but so many Rangers had come, and more hobbits had joined them, that it was impossible now to tell how many were fighting.
I seemed to run out of arrows just as quick though, and soon found myself throwing Ise and all of his brother into the swarm. The darkness was growing and it was getting harder to aim, but still I could see that my rocks were hitting the Orcs. Half of them must have died running towards us, not being able to go back, but then they were upon us, and as I ran to get more rocks my companion was slain.
He fell hard and was trampled quickly by Orc feet. I was speechless. He had been my friend, I'm sure, but I never knew his name. He will always be my companion though. The Orcs were almost on me when Folcred jumped up and began slashing the Orcs, throwing their black blood upon my face.
"Run little hobbit! You can do no more here!" The he went farther into the mix of enemies and allies.
So I ran, but not too far, I grabbed rocks as I went and would turn from time to time to hit the Orcs that went too near to where I stood, some I think I killed, other I stunned. Still they came, but I could hear more hoof beats, and my heart told me that my beloved must be coming. I was at the edge of the Bindbole Wood then, it felt that if I were to leave the trees I would be safe, but I stayed and still threw rocks.
I had to move about a lot so that the Orcs did not catch me. They were faster than me, but I could hide as all hobbits can, and they would run past me. Then I would throw more rocks and hide once more. The battle went on around me, but I did not know who was winning or losing, and I tried not to think about it, but rather concentrate on where I would hide next.
Then the Orcs seemed to stop coming, and I found less and less targets. Torches were lit, and everyone found themselves once more. There were a few more Orcs about, but they were quickly laid waste to, and then I saw my beloved Ferumbas ridding on a pony alongside his brother Bandobras who was riding a horse.
"Ferumbras!" I yelled and ran towards my husband, he looked towards me shocked. There running towards him was a hobbit covered in mud and Orc blood, with blistered hands and a tired face.
"Mira?" He asked right before I wrapped my arms around him, almost pushing him off his pony, but he held fast and wrapped his arms around me as well. "What are you doing here? You could have been killed!"
"I had to fight! I couldn't stay at home wondering if you were dead or not!" I yelled through tears that washed my face, he was crying as well. As he stayed together happily.
That night there were great bonfires lit in the forest and there was dancing and signing. Bandobras was showing some hobbits the new sport he had just invented called 'golf'. Ferumbras and I layed in each other arms, breathing each other in, overjoyed that we had both survived. We ate some meat that was passed around, and drank much ale.
The next morning everyone collected themselves and began the journey back home. There were many carts where the bodies of dead and wounded hobbits were lain out. I looked, but I couldn't find the body of my companion, so I said farewell to him on my own terms. Just as I said farewell to all the hobbits. Despite the joy the night before, all the faces were cheerless and dirty, it didn't feel like a victory anymore.
I saw the Rangers mount their horses, but I decided not to see them off. I saw Folcred ride away near the front, he did not see me. I never saw him again, and he doesn't often come to my mind, but he will always be there when I think of the Battle of Greenfields, just like my companion will always be there.
In Hobbiton there was a celebration going on. Hobbits were running about carrying food and gifts to each other, the soldiers had thrown away their weapons and were running around spreading the news of the victory, then we appeared before them. The hobbits moved aside to let our sorry band walk through, we smelt, looked terrible, and carried dead with us, it should have stopped all the joy one could muster, but rather the hobbits clapped and cheered and sang songs as we walked down the road.
"Mira! Mira!" A voice came from the crowed and a woman carrying a baby came froward. "Oh thank goodness you're all right! Though you don't look it," she added with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips. I knew then she was my neighbour, and the babe in her hands was my own.
She handed Fortinbras to me and I held the small figure in my hands. He smiled and laughed at me, and I smiled back. My little baby was there. My family was reunited finally, and the Orcs were no more. My grief slipped away from my mind then, and I felt the true joy of victory upon me. It was perhaps fitting that my 33rd birthday was a week later. There was a grand celebration in Hobbiton that night.
"A warrior's coming of age!" They all cheered, and we had many roast beasts and fresh breads, puddings and cakes and the finest ales and wines. Afterwards there was talking, singing, and smoking of our pipes. All was well again in the Shire, nothing would make these hobbits frown, I thought for sure.
A few days after the party I travelled with Ferumbras and Fortinbras to Waymoot, where I hoped to find my parents and tell them about my journeys. When I reached Waymoot I found a barren and desolate place. There were few hobbits wandering the streets, and few hobbit-holes left unburnt. My parent's hobbit-hole was no more, the garden destroyed, the hole dug out, my parents gone. All that remained of them were two graves crudely made to honour their poor departed lives.
That was the last time I travelled to Waymoot.
(It was of course right after suggesting the title 'I, Hobbit' that I realised I didn't have a good tittle... or any tittle at all for this Fic. The files are name 'Shire' and 'mira2', so there was no tittle to work off. After lots of going back and forth I realised that 'Mirabella' was probably the best tittle, it works. So here's the story, I wrote these two chapters basically in one sitting, along with a couple of other LOTRFics that I never finished. There is a third chapter here, and years later I have decided to finally write it. So my mission this week is to write that. When this story is finished I will be posting a ten chapter Fic about Merry and Pippin - guess what it's about! Now let me talk about this chapter, a very hard chapter to write. It's hard to put such a happy folk into such a desperate situation and be able to figure out how they'll act. It was also hard trying to figure out exactly what happened during the battle. Most of the info I got was out of the prologue from LOTRs, but it's rather vague and I can't assure you how accurate it is. I had fun finding a name for Amleth and Menelmacar. Trying to name people in Middle-Earth is practically a death wish. You can't make just anything up because they're all based off of languages. So I have to look up names. Menelmacar is actually Orion - other names for it are Telumehtar and in Sindarin it's Menelvagor. Amleth is actually named after the first King of Arthedain (Eriador), but is not that King, completely different time. Jesus! I need a life! Well now that I've given you a lesson in Tolkien, back to my comments!: One of the first images I got in my head was Mira fighting a wolf, after reading more I realised that I couldn't get her fighting a wolf, but I was quite adamant that she still fight. Now onward Prancer and Dancer and lets write the final chapter!)
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.