Written for the “Complement” challenge at Tolkien_weekly.

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“We could muster no larger complement of riders, lord,” the grey-haired sergeant told him. “We are short of horses, and men will be needed on the walls.”

His rangers were still stowing their gear on the borrowed mounts, as what was left of Gondor’s cavalry watched in stolid silence. Some of the horsemen had seen too many winters to ride out on a foray, and here and there he saw the white flash of bandages. He watched as a stableman adjusted the straps on his ill-fitting armor.

“Carry on, sergeant,” Faramir replied. Never was there a greater compliment than this.