Title: The Hands of Fate
Author: Ella
Rating: PG-13
Summary: As the final battle draws closer, Fate decides to play a dangerous game with Aragorn that will make him realize that some lessons can only be learned the hard way. Spoilers for ROTK
Feedback: Greatly and warmly welcomed. Reviews are what keep me going.
Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema. No money is being made on this. This story is for pure entertainment and pleasure. Also, many descriptions were borrowed from the 'Seat of Kings' script. I returned everything the way I got it, so please don't sew me.
Author's Note: Most of the scenes and dialogs in this fic are taken directly from ROTK. I did, however, add my own stuff to follow the plot of the story. But if you haven't seen ROTK, then you are not worthy enough to even read fics so get your butt out of here!!!!! Just kidding. ( What I wanted to say is that if you haven't seen it and don't want spoilers then it's better if you don't read this.
On with the story now (wow, that was a lot less gabber than I thought it would be. I'm on a role!)
The Hands of Fate
The battle of Helm's Deep was over. The Company made for Edoras, each one of them knowing that Helm's Deep was just a wall that stood between them and what would be the greatest battle Middle-earth has seen since the Great Alliance. They knew that they had torn down that wall. But for now, they would rest and celebrate the miraculous victory.
Aragorn rode weary, yet proud, upon Hasufel and Legolas and Gimli rode on Arod beside him in a companionable silence. As they rode through the plains of Rohan, with the new found hobbits, Gandalf, Theoden, Eomer, and the rest of the Rohirrim, towards Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld, Aragorn's eyes rested on Eowyn watching them approach and bring triumph with them. Her golden hair danced in the wind, caressing her noble face.
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That night, a feast was held and laughter echoed throughout the Golden Hall. Thoeden stood in front of his people with Eomer at his side. The room got quiet and all eyes were on the king.
"Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," announced the king of Rohan, lifting up his goblet. "Hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" yelled the people in return.
Aragorn, too, raised a tankard, but hesitated before bringing it to his lips. He remember his fallen comrades. Boromir. And Haldir. Both dying an honorable death, yet one too soon. The room once again burst into laughter and songs. Especially those sung by Merry and Pippin, as they danced on the tables, each with a pint in hand. But no joy could replace a heavy grief weighing down the heart of a certain elf. Legolas made his way to the other side of the room where he had spotted Aragorn and came to stand at the man's side.
"The days grow dark," he said softly. "This may be the last time we see these men smile."
"Alas, you're right, my friend," Aragorn turned to face Legolas. "And yet you do not smile tonight, not even for the last time. Your eyes are filled with sorrow. Tell me, what troubles you, mellon nin? Is it the fall of Haldir? Indeed, I too, still lament his passing."
"'Tis not that, Aragorn son of Arathorn," sighed the prince. "Indeed, I have not witnessed so much death before this journey, but I have come to realize that in the end even the strongest elf that might seem invulnerable may fall."
"I wish you would not speak like that."
"And yet I do. Aragorn, I...." He was interrupted as Eowyn came running towards Aragorn holding a cup in her hands. Aragorn stepped away from Legolas and walked to her. As he stood before her, she handed him the goblet. Aragorn took it gratefully and drank, his eyes never leaving those of Eowyn. Giving the cup back to her, he took his leave.
Aragorn walked to the spot where he saw Gandalf standing and watching the little hobbits.
"No news of Frodo?" he asked, though already aware of what the answer was.
"No word. Nothing," said the wizard. His eyes already showed a hint of doubt.
"We have time. Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor."
Gandalf turned to the future king . "Do we know that?"
Aragorn sighed. Of coarse they didn't. But nevertheless, hope remained. "What does your heart tell you?"
A small smile spread across the old wizard's face. "That Frodo is alive."
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As the night came, the Golden Hall fell into a peaceful sleep. But Aragorn could not. Many thoughts clouded his mind. He went out with a pipe in his hand to think for a while. Aragorn deeply breathed in the night air and his eyes scanned the great clearing. Soon, though, he became aware of another presents. Turning his head to the left he saw a dark, hooded figure standing a few meters away.
"The stars are veiled, " spoke Legolas softly as Aragorn stood next to him. "Something stirs in the East...A sleepless malice." The elf gazed at Aragorn and their eyes locked for a moment. He then looked back in front of him, towards the direction of Mordor. "The Eye of the Enemy is moving. The Dark Lord is close. His minions are regrouping. Orcs, Uruk-hai, goblins, trolls...they know that the war isn't over because one battle is lost. They will not turn back"
"And neither will we," said Aragorn sternly.
Suddenly, the elven prince felt a terrible darkness sweep over him. In alarm, he looked at Aragorn. "He is here!" Just then, they both heard a scream coming from the inside and they ran in. A horrid sight greeted them there. Pippin stood screaming as he clutched the Palantir. Or rather the Palantir clutched him. Gandalf stirred from his sleep and came running.
"Help him! Someone help him!" yelled Merry.
Aragorn snatched the Seeing Stone from Pippin's hands, but could not control it. He felt the power of the Dark Lord overtake him and he fell to his knees. Legolas was quick to act as he grabbed his friend's shoulders and held him as still as he could. Finally, the Stone dropped from Aragorn's hands and rolled on the floor. Sweat poured down Aragorn's forehead as he went limp in Legolas' arms. The elf quickly shook him back to his senses and Aragorn waved him off, now standing on his own.
"Fool of a Took!" yelled the angry wizard. He turned to Pippin, only to find the little halfling laying in fear, staring into a void. Gandalf, along with Aragorn and Legolas, came to Pippin's side.
"Look at me!" commanded Gandalf.
"Gandalf!" said Pippin trembling. "Forgive me!" Aragorn noticed that he was deathly pale. One could only imagine what the hobbit had to go through, but Aragorn knew. He knew what Pippin saw, for he had seen the same.
"What did you see?" firmly spoke Gandalf.
"A...tree....there was a white tree...." Pippin struggled to continue. "In a courtyard of stone....it was dead. The city was burning."
Aragorn closed his eyes and sighed. Minas Tirith. The Dark Lord will strike at the very heart of Man. He turned around and walked away. Legolas, seeing the disturbance in his friend, went after him in an attempt to offer solace.
Without looking back, Aragorn felt the elf's presence.
"I want to be alone," he said. "Leave me."
"Aragorn," called Legolas. "What did you see in the Palantir?" The man still didn't turn around, acting as if he didn't hear Legolas.
"Estel, man cenich?" Legolas repeated, purposely switching to the Grey tongue, knowing Aragorn felt more comfortable that way.
"He's coming after my city," Aragorn forced himself to say. He finally turned around and faced the elf. Legolas was then able to see all the pain in his eyes. "He knows that Minas Tirith is Gondor's weakness. The men would give their lives up to protect it, but that is what He wants. He will use their devotion to their city against them."
"The men of Gondor are strong, Aragorn. They will resist Sauron's forces."
"There is just too few of them, Legolas."
"They are not alone. We will fight by their side. And we will die trying."
Aragorn looked up. "I cannot let the White City fall. I promised my mother. I promised Boromir. And I promised myself. "
The Mirkwood prince walked up to Aragorn and placed both hands on his shoulder's in a firm, yet reassuring, grip.
"We will not let it fall."
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"Six thousand spears," said Theoden. "Less than half of what I'd hoped for."
Aragorn sighed. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor." His eyes scanned the Rohirrim. These were true worriors. But leading such a little number of them against the entire force of Mordor is as good as leading them to their deaths. Aragorn was beginning to lose hope. When he saw the beacons lit a great pride filled him. Finally his people were asking for the help they had refused for so long. Finally Rohan had agreed to help its kin. But now he saw that pity would not be taken on them like it has been in Helm's Deep.
Seeing the doubt in the man's eyes, Theoden replied, "More will come." But Aragorn shook his head.
"Every hour hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn. Then we must ride." With that he walked away.
Legolas watched his friend. In all the years of knowing Aragorn, he has never seen his friend so defeated. Gimli came to stand by the elf's side.
"He tries to seem strong," said the dwarf, "but his own eyes betray him."
"Aye," replied Legolas. "At least to those who know him well. The men look up to Aragorn. They look past the momentary weakness and see the true king that lies beneath. He lead them to victory once. He will do it again."
"You're so sure of it, laddie? Nothing is certain anymore. Especially at times like these."
Legolas looked down and fell silent for a moment. He was not gifted with the gift of foresight like Aragorn or the Lord of Imladris. But he saw the future clearly. He was certain. Ever so certain. Though the thought plagued him, he was certain.
Behind Legolas and Gimli, the horses became unsettled. Kicking and neighing they wouldn't let anyone near them. The elf and his dwarf friend walked over to Eomer.
"The horses grow restless...and the men are quiet," Legolas spoke softly.
"They grow nervous in the shadows of the mountain," replied Eomer. The three of them glanced at the White Mountains.
"That road there," Gimli pointed, "where does that lead?"
Legolas carefully eyed the mountain, knowing what dwelled beneath it. "It is the road to the Dimholt," he answered, "the door under the mountain."
Eomer, too, looked in that direction. "None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil."
Aragorn walked towards an opening in the mountain. He felt an unseen force lure him closer. Suddenly, a ghostly effigy emerged for brief moment before altogether disappearing. Aragorn glanced in awe, until Gimli came over and broke him out of the trance.
"Aragorn. Let's find some food," spoke the dwarf. Aragorn slowly nodded. He turned to follow, but looked back for a moment at the mountain. Yet there was nothing there, save for a dark road that led into a haunted legend.
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That night, Aragorn shifted uneasily in his sleep. He saw the most vivid and horrid images. They were brief, but long enough for Aragorn to see what they were. He saw the same thing he saw in the Palantir. Minas Tirith burning and falling apart. The city of Men. His city. The dream shifted to a dark cloud over Rivendell. Arwen lay in what use to be the most beautiful place in Imladris. As she turned her head, Aragorn saw the deathly pale face and the obscure eyes. "I choose a mortal life." She didn't speak, but rather whispered, as if each word took the life from her. A single tear rolled from her eye, but she did not blink it away. "I wish I could have seen him...one last time." As she closed her eyes for the last time, Aragorn saw the symbol of their love, the Evenstar, fall to the cold ground and shatter into a million tiny pieces. Suddenly, the image changed entirely. It was completely dark and nothing could be seen, except the one flying spear. It flew straight for the target it was meant to hit. But Aragorn did not see it, for as soon as the spear hit its mark Aragorn bolted awake, pulling out his sword.
"Sir?" said the Rohirrim soldier that walked into his tent. "King Theoden awaits you, my lord."
Aragorn got up from his bed, panting, still grasping the sword in his hand. As he walked out, though, he placed it by the door. He was making his way towards Theoden's tent, when Legolas came up to him.
"Aragorn, I need to speak with you," said the elf, looking very disturbed.
But Aragorn kept walked pass him. "Leave me, I don't have time," he spoke sternly, "Theoden summons me."
"It's important." Legolas caught up to the man and placed a firm hand on his arm. This made Aragorn turn, but he looked even more furious than before.
"Well so is this!" he snapped, pushing Legolas' hand away from him. "I told you to leave me. Apparently, you think that being one of the 'fair folk' gives you the right to overrule all others. Let me give a little advice, elf. Live your long life as if it means something, and stay out of mine!" With that, he turned and walked towards his intended location.
Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. He was more shocked, than hurt, though he was hit in a fragile spot. Never had his friend shown so much hatred, anger, and.....fear? Was that what triggered the sudden burst, fear? No. It was fear mingled with pain.
"He is lost, " said Gimli, who stood not so far away. "He's not mad at you. He just can't find himself."
"I know, Gimli," Legolas told him softly. "Alas! that's what troubles me. He doesn't realize that he is not alone."
Aragorn opened the flap of Theoden's tent. He didn't know what made him so angry at Legolas. It wasn't the elf's fault. Legolas was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The guilt pained his greatly, but for right now, he had other things to attend to. Inside the tent he saw a cloaked figure by the king that immediately caught his eye.
Upon Aragorn's arrival, Theoden said, " I take my leave."
When the king was gone, the cloaked figure got up, and turned to Aragorn, removing the hood and revealing his true form.
"My lord, Elrond," Aragorn bowed his head and looked with surprise at the Lord of Rivendell.
"I come on behalf of one whom I love. Arwen is dying," spoke Elrond. Aragorn's eyes widened. He now knew that that night a vision had come to him in the form of a dream.
"She will not long survive the evil that now spreads from Mordor," continued the elf lord, looking down at Aragorn's necklace. "The light of the Evenstar is failing. As Sauron's power grows, her strength wanes. Arwen's life is now tied to the fate of the Ring. The shadow is upon us, Aragorn. The end has come. "
"It will not be our end, but His," replied Aragorn boldly. But Elrond shook his head.
"You ride to war but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith as you know, but in secret He sends another force which will attack from the river. The fleet of corsair ships sails from the South. They'll be in the city in two days. You're outnumbered, Aragorn. You need more men. "
"There are none. I can ask no more of my people. All who could have already come to our aid. There is no one else who can uphold us."
"There are those who dwell in the mountain."
Aragorn once again saw the haunting image of the effigy in his mind and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them they were filled with hatred. "Murderers," he said in repulsion. "Traitors. You would call upon them to fight?! They believe in nothing! They answer to no one. "
"They will answer to the king of Gondor." With those words, Elrond swiftly pulled out the sword Anduril from his robes and held it before Aragorn. "Anduril- Flame of the West. Forged from the shards of Narsil."
Aragorn walked up to the elf lord and examined the sword closely before taking it in his own hands.
"Sauron will not have forgotten the Sword of Elendil." He unsheathed it and scanned it from the intricate hilt to the very tip of the blade. The sword of kings glimmered in the dimly lit tent.
"The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith," spoke Aragorn gallantly.
"The one who can wield the power of this sword, can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth," Elrond told him. "Put aside the Ranger. Become who you were born to be. Take the Dimholt road." Aragorn looked up and locked eyes with the Lord of Rivendell. "Onen i-Estel Edain." (I gave hope to the Men)
"U-chebin estel anim." (I have kept no hope for myself).
After a moment of silence, Elrond exited the tent, leaving the King of Gondor standing in light reflected from Anduril. The sword had returned to the one who was meant to wield it.
As Elrond made his way out of the camp, he was greeted by Legolas who bowed before him.
"My Lord," said the Mirkwood prince. "Nae saian luume. I must say this is the last place I would expect to see you." (It has been long)
"I had a task and now it is done. I take my leave and will patiently wait."
"Lord Elrond, did you see anything?"
Elrond sighed. "Indeed, I have Legolas. But I know that you have seen the same."
"I have not the gift of foresight, but Fate has a way of making herself known."
"And yet you still remain here?"
"Fate cannot be escaped. And I cannot abandon Aragorn. Not now. He has more than one battle to fight and no matter what he says, I know in my heart that he is struggling. He cannot be alone and he won't be. Not as long as I draw breath." Elrond smiled. He has always marveled at the young elf's devotion to his foster son, even though Aragorn did not always see the depth of Legolas' loyalty.
"Take care, Legolas," spoke Elrond. "Nai eleni siluvar antalyannar." (May the stars shine upon your face)
"And you as well."
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Aragorn took Brego and walked away, leaving Eowyn to stand alone, her eyes still shining with tears. Eowyn had really got to him. Her pain-filled eyes struck his heart. But as much as it grieved him to see her suffering, he could not let that stop him. He could not tell the men where he was going. They would think he was mad. Aragorn walked towards the crack in the mountain
"Just where do you think you're up to?" said a stout voice behind him.
Aragorn turned around and smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Not this time. This time you must stay, Gimli."
"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" said Legolas coming up next to them with Arod. Aragorn looked at him and they locked eyes. Legolas smiled and nodded.
"Might as well accept it. We're going with you laddie," Gimli told him.
With a grin, Aragorn left with his friends down the Dimholt road. Back in the encampment, the soldiers watched the Three Hunters leave, King Theoden with them. The Rohirrim were bewildered at Aragorn's strange behavior, and frankly, they were worried. Without Aragorn they might as well just die on the spot.
"Where's he going?" said one soldier.
" I don't understand. Lord Aragorn! Why does he leave on the eve of battle?!" said another. Aragorn heard this as he rode by, but acted as if it passed him. As the three disappeared in the shadow of the mountain, a ring of soldiers turned to each other in despair.
"He leaves because there is no hope," said Gamling.
"He leaves because he must!" exclaimed Theoden.
"Too few have come. We can not defeat the armies of Mordor."
" No, we cannot," said Theoden proudly. "But we will meet them in battle nonetheless." At this, the soldiers just lowered their heads. They would follow their king to the end. But that end will come to soon.
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The sun rose slowly, touching the horizon. Its rays fell upon the earth as if weeping at the doom that was near at hand. Weeping, as if knowing that it will not linger in the sky long. Nevertheless, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli make their way to the Dark Door, the entrance to the Paths of the Dead. It was, indeed, a dreadful place to be. One could feel the cold darkness sweep over one, even at daybreak. The Three Hunters rode quietly. Aragorn was deep in himself and Legolas simply took advantage of the inert atmosphere for his own personal thoughts. Though both of them felt a bit uneasy on the Dimholt road, it was Gimli who really couldn't stay put.
"What kind of an army would linger in such a place?" he said finally, breaking the silence.
"One that is cursed," answered Legolas. He has often heard the story of the dead soldiers from his father and from Imladris when he traveled there.
"Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor..." Legolas glanced at Aragorn for a second before continuing. "... to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled- vanishing into the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."
Aragorn, too, has heard the story many times, and so did not really listen to the elf. He was still deep in thought.
Slowly, they arrived and stood before the slope of Dwimorberg, leading their restless horses towards the entrance.
"The very warmth of my blood seems drawn away," spoke the obstinate dwarf.
Legolas grinned at his friend's turmoil. He then turned towards the door and quietly read to himself the writing that was on the entrance before reading it aloud to his companions.
"'The way is shut...it was made by those who are dead...and the dead keep it. The way is shut.'"
Just as he finished reading the warning, a sudden blast of wind, mingled with the cries of the dead, came from the inside. The horses neighed in terror and pulled out of their masters' grip, fleeing until out of sight.
"Brego!" called Aragorn to his horse, but all in vain. He turned and looked directly into the cave. "I did not ask you to come with me, my friends. I have been set on this path and will take it alone if I have to, for I do not fear death!" With that he walked in and disappeared into the darkness.
His friends watched in astonishment. Legolas made a move as if to follow, but hesitated for a moment. For the first time in his life, the elf felt fear. Terrible fear. Death had never touched him before, until now. Yet Aragorn's intrepidity gave him strength. Legolas took a deep breath and then followed his friend into the dark mist.
Gimli watched wide-eyed. "Well this is something unheard of! And elf will go underground where a dwarf dare not," he said into the air. "Ahhh....I'll never hear the end of it!'' Gimli sighed in relent and ran in after the man and the elf.
Legolas caught up to Aragorn, who was making his way forward inside the underground realm, using a torch.
"Aragorn!" called Legolas running over to his side. They stopped before a huge double door.
"So you've decided to come with me after all?" said Aragorn rather sarcastically. But Legolas was quite serious.
"You know that I won't let you do this alone, even if it is like I'm raiding over your life. "
"Legolas, I'm not a child anymore."
"You never were, Aragorn son Arathorn. But even so, you cannot do this on your own. I just want you to know that I will die for you, and I will not regret it."
Aragorn didn't know what to say. He was speechless. Fortunately, he was saved by Gimli who came running all out of breath.
"There you two are," exclaimed the stout dwarf. "Now don't you think that it is...." He couldn't finish, for a haunting voice interrupted him.
"Who enters my domain?" it spoke sending shivers down Gimli's spine. Aragorn turned around and saw the King of the Dead appear in front of the steps, leading to the doors.
"One who will have your allegiance," he replied fearlessly.
"The dead do not suffer the living to pass." The King of the Dead was a horrid sight to look at. One could not possibly imagine that this was once a man.
"You will suffer me!"
The King let out a laugh of contempt and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli turned around, only to see the army of the dead surround them and start to drift towards them.
"The way is shut," said the King. "it was made by those who are dead...and the dead keep it." The army closed in around them. "The way is shut. Now you must die."
The King moved towards Aragorn, and Legolas immediately fired an arrow at him, but it flied right through him.
"I summon you to fulfill your oath!" Aragorn cried out.
"None but the king of Gondor may command me!"
Aragorn brought his sword in front of him. The King swung his own sword, but Aragorn blocked the blow with Anduril and brought the tip of the blade to the King's neck.
The King stared in dismay at Aragorn. "The blade was broken!"
"It has been re-made." Aragorn pushed the King back and the dead remain silent and watched. "Fight for us and regain your honor. What say you?"
The army still remained silent even as Aragorn walked around them holding Anduril out. Legolas marveled at Aragorn audacity and courage. Never has he seen Aragorn so determined and confident. The Ranger of the North was completely gone. He was replaced by Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur and rightful king of Gondor.
"What say you!?" Aragorn repeated.
"You waste your time, Aragorn," said Gimli. "They had no honor in life, that have none now in death." But Aragorn paid no heed to those words.
"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me! And I will hold your oath fulfilled." The King merely smiled as Aragorn pointed his sword at him. "What say you!?"
As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli looked around, they saw the great host of dead soldiers bow before them. In the end, the King of the Dead, too, bowed his head in front of the King of Gondor.
"We will follow you, my lord," he said finally.
Aragorn looked at his companions. "We make for Minas Tirith. We must be swift for already I feel the doom upon my kin."
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As the Company drew closer to the sea, Legolas felt his heart tighten. He heard for the first time in his life the very gulls that he was told by the Lady would lead to his demise. But he heeded them not. He knew what he had to do and was more than willing to do it. The ships were drawing closer to the shores of Pelennor Fields. Legolas' elven eyes could see far across the field. They saw the saw the merciless minions of Mordor. The Nazgul on it's dark, winged steed sweeping the men up as if they were fallen leaves. Even so, the Rohirrim wielded their swords valiantly, and many orcs fell dead. But then, suddenly, a horn blew. Into sight came a huge elephant-like creature, yet much more fierce. Legolas watched as the Rohirrim stared at the sight, their horses nervous.
King Theoden yelled out commands and the soldiers rushed toward the enemy. They clashed and many riders fell dead as the Mumakil use their gigantic tusks, covered with spikes, their huge feet crushing and throwing aside all that stood in their way. The Haradrim shot their arrows, killing many of the men. The fields were in chaos, and the Rohirrim seemed unable to match the huge beasts of the enemy. Eomer stopped to face one of the beasts, and spear in hand, he slayed the commander, causing the Mumak to stamp madly into another of its kind and both of them fell.
As the black ships neared the shore, the hideous voices of orcs scolded them, thinking they were one of their own. "Late as usual! Pirate scum! There's enough work here that needs doing. Come on, you sea-rats! Get off your ships!" yelled the orcs.
They watched in surprise as the figures of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli jumped out from the ship. They smirked, however, seeing that there was only three of them.
Gimli, though short, stood tall, looking at the orcs in disgust. "There's plenty for the both of us. May the best dwarf win!" he told his elf friend.
Legolas smiled. "Don't worry, Gimli. The best elf will win."
The three then looked at the foul beasts. Aragorn had Anduril ready in his hands, gripping the hilt tight. As they ran, the Army of the Dead floated out from the ships, and they charged toward the enemy together. The soldiers of both Gondor and Rohan looked in amazement at the scene before them. Filled with a new hope, they let out a vicious battle cry and took down the foes that came at them.
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli split up, each fighting their own group of orcs. Legolas' bow shinned in his hands as he shot the enemy one by one. "15, 16..." he counted aloud.
Gimli, too, was not so easy on the orcs. He wildly penetrated their armor with his ax, also keeping count. "17, 18, 19..."
Aragorn, though, fought madly, brandishing Anduril through the orcs and Haradrim as if they were no more than a thin branch. The savage beast has been released from him. The armies of Mordor didn't stand a chance. He wasn't fighting for honor or glory. He wasn't even fighting for his own life. He was fighting for his city. For his people. For he, was their King.
The ground shook as if a great tree has fallen. Aragorn looked around, trying to find the elf.
"Legolas!" he yelled.
Legolas turned and saw the Mumakil coming right at him. He took a deep breath before running toward the great beast. He grabbed hold of a rope that was hanging down from it and swiftly climbed up its spike-covered tusk. The elf thrashed his long, white knives into the creature, piercing the thick hide, but the Mumakil continued to march forward. Legolas then swung himself to the hind leg and plunged his arrows in it, using them as stair to get up to the back. Once Legolas had regained his balance atop the beast, he fired his arrows at the Haradrim on the top. "33,34..." The Haradrim came at him but he continued moving around, shooting them before they could even get close.
Meanwhile, Aragorn finished off a couple more orcs and looked over the battlefield. They were winning. The Army of the Dead took down the enemies on the field and then moved into the city. Another orc dared to charge at Aragorn, but he easily defeated him. But when he looked up, he saw his dream come to life before his eyes. He saw a great spear being thrown. Aragorn watched in terror as it sailed through the air and hit its mark directly where it was meant to.
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Legolas grabbed hold of a rope that was attached to the platform on the Mumakil's back and swung over to the right side. He cut the rope, causing the entire platform to come crashing down, bringing the remaining Haradrim with it. But the beast continued to move forward. Legolas took out his arrow and fired it into the skull with no avail. He then took out another one and did the same, causing the creature to totter a bit, but still it didn't die. Just as Legolas was about to fire a third arrow, a sudden shot of pain went through his whole body. He let out a cry and brought his hand up to his face. There he saw the blood from the wound the spear had inflicted. He still found the strength in him to let loose the arrow, that in the end proved to be the fatal shot that brought the creature down, taking the elf with it.
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Aragorn was now fighting, not only orcs, but also giant trolls. They attacked him viciously and he was forced to used all his strength to fend them off. On troll had hit him in the arm with a blade and he was bleeding freely, but he had no time for that. Anduril sang in his hand the song of victory. Finally, he took down the last of his enemy.
The soldiers have done the same. Thought many dead and wounded, they were not discouraged. Not even when they lost their king to the Nazgul. Their Lady was triumphant and that gave them all the determination they needed. The troops of Mordor have lost the battle. The men had yet another glorious victory. The Siege of Minas Tirith has finally ended. The now silent Fields of Pelennor were filled with dead, but the clouds parted and let the sunlight hit the ground. Aragorn saw Gandalf in the distance and smiled at the wizard, who did the same to him.
Aragorn stood before the Army of the Dead, who anxiously awaited their liberation.
"Release us," said the King of the Dead. "We have served you as we promised."
Gimli stood at Aragorn's side, shaking his head. "Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads. Despite the fact they're dead."
"You gave us your word!" The King was now angry.
Aragorn raised his hand in a calming gesture. "I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace."
With a peaceful smile on his face, the King of the Dead closed his eyes and he, along with his men, disappeared with the wind, finally free. Aragorn, too, was smiling. The smile suddenly disappeared as he remembered what he had seen.
"Legolas," he said under his breath. He ran to the spot where he had seen the elf take down the Mumakil, Gimli following close behind. "It can't be, it can't be!" he thought to himself.
When man and dwarf had gotten there, they froze at the sight before their eyes.
"No!" yelled Gimli as he ran towards the body of his elf friend. Legolas lay motionless beside the fallen Mumakil, his eyes open. "No!" Gimli yelled once more falling onto his knees. Aragorn slowly knelt before the Legolas and place his fingers on his neck. After a few seconds he closed his eyes and brought them to his lips. Gimli carefully understood the signal. He turned to the elf once more and shook him fiercely.
"No!" he sobbed. "He's not dead! He's not dead! He can't be! He's an elf! No!" Gimli slapped Legolas across the face and let the body drop. "Stupid elf, wake up! You're not dead!" He grabbed the spear from the body and broke it in half against his knee, thrusting it far away with all his might. He dwarf then charged at Aragorn screaming.
"Gimli!" yelled Aragorn grabbing him, but he still wouldn't stop. "Gimli! He's gone. It's over." Tears threatened to escape from his eyes, but he held them back. He had to remain strong.
"How can you say that?" Gimli looked with hatred at Aragorn, stepping back away from him.
"Because it's true. He's dead."
Gimli was choking on his tears. "He can't die. He's an elf. It's not suppose to be this way." The dwarf turned and walked away, kicking the dead orcs that lay beneath his feet. Aragorn looked at Legolas pale face. He couldn't believe it. The elf had promised to be by his side. So many times he said that. "...in the end even the strongest elf that might seem invulnerable may fall." Legolas' words echoed in his mind. He finally let the tears fall. The elf was always a there. But even though Aragorn knew that no matter what happened he could always look over his shoulder and see Legolas there, he never took the time to actually turn and look.
Aragorn place his right hand across his chest. "Gohena nin, Legolas. Gohena, gwaidor nin. " (Forgive me, Legolas. Forgive me, my brother.) With those words he reached out and closed the lids of Legolas' eyes.
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THE END
Ella