For the 'Red' challenge on the Tolkien_weekly LJ

The rich, dark soil of the Pelennor was red when it came rushing up to meet him as he fell, shoulder on fire, mind screaming in tandem with the cries around him.

Blurred figures danced above him, misshapen masses of green, brown, red and black. Swords danced above his face. Unable to do aught but wait for them to pierce through his fevered flesh, he lay unmoving on the blood-slicked earth as one that knew all was near lost.

Sharp lines of silver streaked with red glinted through the haze in front of his eyes, and then all was gone.

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