Chapter Ten: The Witch King's Arrival and the Fate of Minas Ithil

"The most powerful of the Nine, he moves in the stead of his master. His will was stripped of him long ago. Even so, he seeks to conquer all and consume the world in darkness. He cannot conceive of peace nor freedom. There is no draw or bargain in his war. Whatever doomed city his master looks to, the Witch King of Angmar will lead the black armies against. He will see it done." – Galadriel speaking to Eltariel before her expedition into Mordor.

Another day passed as Minas Ithil's doom drew closer. Talion felt himself now trapped inside the walls that protected him, a feeling shared by all of Minas Ithil's people. He had done all he could do to keep the first legion in discord. Indeed, what should have been a strong offensive was ruined. With dead Graug, sleepless Orcs sent running from their camps by spiders, and traitors constantly sabotaging the war effort, he had bought the city many days. Yet for all these accomplishments, it changed little. The hundreds he had personally slain returned to life thanks to the Nazgul's cruel spell.

As dusk approached, Talion returned to the armory to speak with Idril. He had finished scathing every inch of the armory, even sneaking into the General's vault. At this point, he did not care if it was seen as treason. All that remained was to interrogate Castamir himself, but he hoped it would not come to that.

"Talion," said the maiden, "You return again."

He answered, "Idril, are there other vaults that your father hides? If so, you must tell me at once."

She put her hands to her hips and answered, "I am sure there are. However, I do not know of such places. There are many old caverns and tunnels beneath Minas Ithil, although none the Orcs will find. I am sorry."

Talion said, "Very well. I suppose I will turn my attention to the drake."

"Do you intend to slay it?"

"I do. I am sure he has broken its mind and made it a slave. It would be difficult to tame it as I did that warg."

He began to look up to the sky as he envisioned his interception of the Witch King. He imagined the shot necessary to reach it, and the killing stroke to slay the small wyvern.

He said, "It is a shame I did not find the drake that roosts in Cirith Ungol."

"A wild drake so far form Mordor…" said Idril, "Before the siege, I heard rumors of it. I thought I might catch it one day when it veered across the mountains."

"How would you catch such a brute?"

"They are drawn to the scent of burning meat. Charred cattle would do, I believe. You see I read in an old Elvish record of a war between them. The Elves would use the smell of savory meat to attract starving dragons. I do not think drakes are so different. They seek a refined flavor in their food. If it truly lives in Cirith Ungol, it will not have much to cook but Orcs. I do not think it could resist."

Talion said, "If that is true, I should go at once. No, I must first remove the eye that watches the wall. In the morning, I will go to Cirith Ungol and see if I can cook a Caragor."

Idril said, "Then you could take the fight to the skies. Burn their armies in moments. Afterwards, you must let me see it up close. I must know if they can speak."

The ranger laughed lightly and said, "Oh Idril, daughter of Castamir… it sounds as if you have found some hope."

Idril's eyes widened as she realized what she had said.

She said, "Ah… I suppose that is true."

Dusk fell yet again. Talion flew down from the wall, avoiding the torrent of arrows being fired about him. He landed upon a roof, stabbing an archer with his blade as he landed. Such impossible feats of precision now seemed normal to him. His mind was sharp. A single Orc could no longer hope to threaten him, even without the powers of the ring.

Looking up ahead, Talion saw the eye wreathed in flame standing atop the watchtower. He wasted no time approaching it. With his ghostly powers, he lunged two meters ahead and caught the ledge in his grip. With another leap, he was holding onto a small buttress. Not a moment later, he had pulled himself up into the roost of the tower. Using the Wraith's sight, the ranger could see it clearly. The watch tower vanished and in its place, was a great forge, one of two he had claimed shortly after entering the city. The Witch King had taken it or himself and twisted it to suit his own purposes.

Closely, the pair looked upon the fiery mass. They gazed at the narrow pupil that hid Sauron's true form.

Celebrimbor stated, "This was the armor he dawned in the war of the Last Alliance. He stood as tall as an Olog-Hai with armor that all sword shattered upon. Only a perfect swing between the joints took his finger and his ring."

Talion said, "You speak of Isildur, son of Elendil."

Celebrimbor said, "Indeed."

"In Minas Tirith," said Talion, "I would often gaze up at his likeness, carved into fine stone. We all knew him as the King of kings."

"A bold claim," said the Wraith.

"Not to us. He alone slew the Dark Lord and saved the world from darkness and death. There were none I ever admired so much as he."

"Hmmm" said the Wraith, "Let us return to the task at hand. The eye has seen us so we must move quickly."

Talion realized that Celebrimbor was holding back his opinion on the matter. He was sure it was to say that Isildur had succumbed to the ring. Yes, just as the Bright Lord had. However, he had failed in his quest where Isildur succeeded. For Celebrimbor, was Isildur a subject of shame or of admiration?

"Use the power of the ring. Subjugate it."

"You mean not to destroy it?" asked Talion."

"It is a useful weapon that will let me see the battle from the outside."

Talion stretched out his hand. The ring began to glow blue and the lidless eye flickered. Its fires ran white and wild as the eye's slit pupil widened. Now the fires that made its form were turned silver. In place of the Dark Lord Sauron, was the silhouette of the Bright Lord.

Celebrimbor said, "We have mixed our power with his, but risen victorious. Sauron and his servants will still wield it, so the Witch King may not destroy his creation. As such, it will be a tool used by both sides of this war. However, this means much more for us. It means that the new ring can overcome to the power of Sauron and his lieutenant."

"So, there is a chance," whispered Talion.

With that, they returned to the ranks. Talion would say his farewells to Baranor and Idril. It would be a day or two before he returned from his drake hunt. They would need words of encouragement until then if they were to last the night.

The crimson wings of the drake draped the back of the camp as it landed beside his blackguard. The Witch King now dismounted and headed towards his war tent. Inside, his servants awaited him. An Orc handed him his tools. In one hand, he held his long sword, the slayer of kings. And now in his other hand, he grabbed hold of the handle to a great flail. Its size was dwarfed by none. No mortal man, even the strongest, could hope to master it. Made of Adamant, it could not be shattered nor chipped. Both glowed a feint green as they had been merged within the realm of the Wraith. A single swing would tear off a knight's head or break the bones of a troll. With these weapons, he would now make his war.

"Once," said the High Commander, "This fortress was home to my master. So it will be again."

From the city ranks, Talion gazed up in horror. The Wraith had spied it through his new eye. Something stirred in the enemy ranks at last.

Celebrimbor said softly, "So it comes to this at last."

Idril gazed up from the treasury. She had been reflecting on the ranger's words and letting them heal her. Yet at in a single moment, they shattered. Idril's face became sad as she saw the wings of the drake approaching overhead, and heard the metal steps of the black army marching forward. There would be no holding them back this time.

She whispered, "Such a foolish dream…"

The drake landed abruptly onto the ground, sending a shock wave of dust. Its master gazed forward at the gate of the inner city. A great wooden gate barred by iron and bolt. Fire and battering ram could not break it. The clubs of trolls and the fist of the Graug would take too long. So he would personally see to this matter. The Witch King drew out his sword and rose it into the air. In that moment he let out a piercing scream that was heard throughout the city. Their screams were eclipsed by his own. He tore the courage from the heart of men. Powered by the dark of night, the fear of the living, and the ring of his master, his will challenged that of the entire city. He fed upon their despair and broke their minds. Now all that remained was to break the foundations of their fortress.

His sword became entrenched in a sickly green fire that ran up the blade as if if it were dipped in oil. The air around it began to be pulled in, devoured by the dark magic. Yet his cries overwhelmed even the sound of this spell. In this moment, he could not be stopped.

His hour had come.

The Witch King aimed his sword towards the center of the gates. From the air in front of him, a green orb formed as if it were pulling in streams of water. When all of the magic had gathered, he unleashed it upon the wall. The air exploded around him, sending his guards off their feet. The orb shot forward into the gate and tore it open. All behind it were obliterated. The great wooden gates came crashing down. Green flames took on a natural color as they fed upon the broken keep.

The Witch King said, "Bring forth the Olog-Hai."

Talion found himself laying upon the ground, rubble all about him. His ears were ringing and his sight was blurry. He had been close to the gates when it went off. Knowing the Witch King was approaching, he had hoped to organize the ranks. However, the sound of the Nazgul and the might of his magic had shattered the garrison. As he looked up at the burning gate, he saw Orcs pouring in. These were shirtless and weak. Expendable grunts meant to overwhelm the defenses and waste the arrows of Gondor.

Although dazed, Talion drew on his strength and pulled himself to his feet. He brushed aside his long locks of hair so that he could evaluate the enemy. With his strength at its best, he charged at the Orcs scattering through the breached gateway. The closest Orc had only a moment to shriek in fear as he lopped of its head. Already, three more Orcs were bolting at him. He blocked a single swing while delivering a kick to the Orc behind him. The third Orc found itself stunned as the Wraith knocked it backwards. Together, they drew out the Elven glave. With a single swing, they swept several goblins off of their feet and to the ground. They spun around now, avoiding the jabs of spears and the slashes of broadswords and cleavers. The Gondorians now began to regain themselves. Seeing the lone warrior face off against the enemy had inspired them.

"Push them back!" he heard Baranor shout as he rode in. With a swing of his sword, he cut open the throat of an Orc sergeant. As Talion began to drive them to the outside, the black-armored soldiers of Minas Ithil came to his aid. With expert swings and blocks, they easily slew the poorly trained goblins. In but a few minutes, the Orc company was slain. However, more were already pouring in.

"Ranger, retreat!" shouted Baranor.

Talion tore his sword away from his opponent and sped toward an approaching battalion of Gondorian archers. As he passed through their ranks, Baranor aimed his sword forward and gave the order. The defenseless Orcs charged forward in desperation. However, the archers, armed with crossbows, kneeled down low. Above, another row of archers were taking aim. The crouched row of marksmen sent their flurry of arrows. The first wave of Orcs dropped dead. Then the second.

The ranger rolled to the side as he saw a great spear tossed towards him. As he regained himself, he saw it had plunged into the row of archers, skewering too. The spear was too large to be wielded by any Uruk-Hai other than Belos himself. Instead, he saw a grey-hided troll marching forward. One tanned with green and another in brown were beside it. Each Olog was twice the size of a Uruk-Hai. The one that had thrown the spear stopped as it saw the ranger standing in a pool of black blood. It glared and opened its jaws, baring fangs the size of daggers. Saliva shot out as it let out a bellow like a heard of swine and horses. In its hand, it carried a great club.

"Its hide will be thick," said Celebrimbor, "Go for the eyes and mouth."

Before he could answer, the troll dashed forward and took Talion by surprise. Talion rolled to the side. The other trolls now charged into the archers. Dozens of arrows pierced their skin. They howled in pain but carried on. With a single swing of their clubs and hammers, they sent the poor soldiers into the air. A downward swing was enough to crush them within their own armor. Another grabbed hold of a man and flung him screaming into a wall. Meanwhile, Talion slashed at the back of the troll's leg. The cut was far too shallow, and it reeled its arm backwards. Talion was smashed to the side and into a wall as it swung at him. Blood trickled from his lower lip as he had sunk his teeth into it during the impact. A moment later, the troll swung again and broke open the side of the building. Talion survived by running beneath its lumber-like legs.

In a deep voice, the troll demanded to know, "Where are you, Man-filth?"

He turned around as Talion ran back below his legs, avoiding its slow reactions. The ranger then pulled back on the Elven bow and fired it hard into the back of its skull. The troll roared in pain as the arrow lodged into its thick flesh. Now the ranger appeared on its back. With his dagger in hand, he dug into the wound until he cracked through the skull. With its broad, muscular arms, the troll could not grab him. It crashed its back against the wall, but the ranger would not lose balance. Talion roared in anger and plunged the dagger in one more time. This time he broke into its cranium and slew it. The troll began to moan in a confused voice before it began to stumbl and tilt over. Talion rolled off as it collapsed behind him. He quickly drew on the ring again and sent a sheet of ice beneath another Olog-Hai. The ice crept up its leg. The troll was too strong and easily broke free. It turned to look at Talion in frustration. The ranger fired off an arrow this time, sending it perfectly into its eye socket. It let out another resonated roar as it clutched at its head. The Gravewalker sent more ice this time, so that it climbed up its entire body and formed a hill around its legs. As the troll roared in frustration, he sent another arrow, this one into its mouth. Meanwhile ,the last troll was shot dead by arrows and a javelin lodged in its throat. However, Talion saw that his garrison was slaughtered but for Baranor and a few archers. A single troll would be enough to slay a dozen men. All hoped dearly that they had slain all of them.

"To me!" shouted Baranor, "All companies to me!"

Talion saw more horseback riders and shield-bearers coming up the center road. Reinforcements had arrived. Mordor would now have to contend with the eight thousand Gondorian soldiers that protected Minas Ithil.

As this moment of hope appeared before him, he heard the sound of the Nazgul again take the hearts of his comrades. A host of armored Uruk now entered, each a tall Uruk-Hai led by a seasoned sergeant. However, leading the companies was the head of another legion… a lieutenant that was neither Orc nor Wraith. It was an armored Olog-Hai and he brought his colossal brothers with him. This one stood far over them so that his head reached over the other trolls. It was a troll of scarred, dark flesh and feral orange eyes. He wore a gilded chest piece of iron and gold and a helmet with two horns like a bull. In his hands, was a wooden club with great iron spikes tied to it like a mace.

The Olog-Hai said, "My master comes for you ranger. Ah… not if I slay you first."

Talion jumped sideways to avoid the Olog's preemptive blow. An unfortunate Orc behind him was sent hurdling several meters away. The ranger saw multiple openings on its stomach and legs, but its chest and head were protected by thick armor plating. Even worse, armored Orcs and two Olog were in tow. They began to flank and charge the ranger as he dueled the great troll.

One of the Gondorian sergeants sent his spearmen forward and began to skewer a nearby troll. The Warchief sent one last swing at Talion. As the ranger retreated, he turned his attention to the soldiers. The spearmen ran forward, hoping to reach his legs and cut him down. However, the War Troll's arm was too long. The moment they entered his range, his morning star broke the ranks. Their dead corpses were bashed about and rent to pieces. Behind them, the ranger danced past the swings of the smaller Ologs. He needed to get close.

The War Troll now spun around and let out his greatest war cry. Any that had thought to help Talion, now retreated to behind the defensive line. As it was, Talion was about to be slain by Orcs and Olog on all fronts. The ranger then summoned on the ring. He plunged the white glave into the ground and sent out a sheet of ice that froze all those around him.

"It is too thin," said the Wraith, "It will not hold them."

"I only need one," said Talion.

He charged at a half-frozen Olog and circled around so he was facing its back. With ease, he leapt up behind it and grabbed hold of its head.

"You are mine!" shouted the Wraith, "You serve the Bright Lord!"

As the War Troll charged at Talion, hoping to save his follower, he was beaten back by a familiar club. Talion rode atop the Olog-Hai, firing arrows at his enemy. The War Troll coughed up blood as the other troll battered its exposed stomach. He immediately charged forward like a ram and pinned the troll to the wall. Talion hopped overhead during the impact. As he flipped above, he fired an arrow into the helm of the troll.

"Push him to me!" shouted Talion as he closed his fist and gave his order.

The other troll was being punched to death by his lieutenant. With Talion's order, it managed to regain enough strength to push back the larger Olog. Talion now created more ice beneath, so that the ice had formed under its moving feet. He then ran up behind the troll and summoned his glave. As the ice shattered, the War Troll stumbled backwards. Its entire weight now worked against it. Talion's glave was sharper than any weapon and could not be shattered. Like the weapon of the Nazgul, its deadliness was absolute. However, the glave could not remain in the world of the living too long without waning in power. The War Troll roared in pain as it fell upon the spear. The spear cracked opened the ground as it was crushed by the troll's immense weight. It now dug deep into his back until becoming lodged within him.

Talion now fired arrows into the armored Orcs that were matching the Gondorian's finest blow for blow. His arrow vanished as he swung down his sword into the helm of an Uruk. In the same moment, he fired yet again and decapitated another Orc. The chain of death continued as the ring gave him strength. As his attack concluded, a dozen Uruk lay dead. Those that remained dashed away in fear from the Gravewalker, now knowing the legends were true.

Behind Talion, Baranor was having barricades of wooden pikes and spears set up. Archers and spearmen armed with shields were ready. A thousand soldiers were preparing to push the enemy back out of the gate.

Talion now ordered his dying troll to walk to the great gateway and there to take its own life. It roared in fury and pain as it swung at the goblins. At last, they took it down. Pierced by arrows and javelins, its body fell on the doorway.

Talion said, "Bring wood. We will stack the armored ones into a pile and block the way just as the troll did. Build a barricade behind it."

Baranor shouted to him, "And if the Witch King returns?"

"I doubt he can perform such a spell twice in so short a time"

"Indeed," said Celebrimbor, "Such magic was like that of an ancient wizard, one of the Maiar of old."

"If he is weakened, then we can win," said Talion.

Fire rained down from overhead. The legion behind him was immolated as the drake swooped down on them. A trail of fire ran down the entirety of the center road. Talion grabbed hold of a small goblin and held it in front of him with a knife. The poor creature writhed as its master's flames consumed it.

"Return fire!" shouted Baranor, "Shoot it down!"

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!

The sound of death resonated through the ranks once more. The archers performed poorly as they succumbed to fear. Some arrows went off course and others were never fired. Without injury, the drake propelled itself up again and out of range. From the gate, the Gondorians now heard a new evil approaching.

The Wraith said, "We must seal the way with ice!"

Talion and the Elf gaped as they saw the troll's body pulled aside by a great clawed hand. A Graug now held the corpse of the slain Olog in the air and gazed at it. Talion watched it pulled back its arm with the corpse held tightly in its grasp. Fear ran through his mind and Talion fired an arrow to a rooftop. A moment later the troll's body had been thrown into the building. The foundations cracked and Talion was forced to leap down again. The War Graug was massive, though not as big as the ancient one he hunted in Núrn. Unlike its starved brothers, this one was hearty and wore full armor. Between its legs, new Orc foot soldiers breached the wall. The Graug did not step any farther. Instead, it retreated back through the gate. The wall began to rumble as the beast tried to fit through. Gathered behind it, was a great row of soldiers. Talion faintly saw their outline behind the Graug. In the front of this army was another troll. This one was fully armored with razor-sharp Mordor plates running across its entire body. It carried a longsword the size of a horse. With it, were another five armored Olog and a row of Orcs wielding lances and box shields. Standing beside them was another black rider on a twisted horse. As for the other Nazgul, they remained in the shadows.

Talion said, "A deadly company awaits victory here. Even if we send them back, we must face this evil?"

The Wraith answered, "The enemy intends to crush us here and now."

"It will not be so," said the ranger, "He will rue this day."

He heard the scream of the Witch King again as it descended upon the wall. With its claws, the drake plucked up soldiers and scattered them below. He broke open their trebuchets and ballistae. Fire consumed all in his path.

Talion said, "I have grown tired of these flames."

He saw the drake encircling them above. In the cover of darkness, none of the men could hope to see it. They could only shake in fear of what was to come. For Talion, its form was laid bare before him. He pulled upon the cord of the bow and lined up a shot.

Celebrimbor said, "It is out of range. Bring us up to him."

The drake began to fire short bursts of fire from its throat. These fired like scorching cannonballs. As they hit the ground, the Gondorians were blown apart in the explosion. The drake unleashed more flames upon the rooftop where the ranger was. A ball of fire obliterated his position. In that moment, the ranger appeared in the air with his bow already lined up for another shot. The Witch King's gaze fell upon him as he realized the hero's intentions. He could clearly see the wraith that guided him. Its arrow ran up past the dragon's snout until it was level with the Black Captain's head. The arrow vanished, and the ranger appeared once more. He swung at the Witch King so that the frost would blind him. He then reached down to the drake and tore at its mind. He could not bend its will nor steal it from the iron grip of the Witch King. However, he could cause it pain as he tried to dominate it. The drake let out a roar as it began to slow down. As its wings became still, Talion swung down between the ridges in his neck. The drake turned its head, crying out in pain and spewing flames behind it. Talion ignited the fire along his sword and let it run through his flesh.

The wyvern spun over as its blood showered down upon the city. As its wings flailed madly about, the ranger lost his footing. Celebrimbor took form and leveled him out so that they landed amidst the battlefield unharmed. Overhead, Talion saw the drake crash into the side of a tower, rending it to pieces. As for its rider, he released the reigns. Talion saw a trail of black smoke rain down from the sky. It took form in front of him. At last, they would have their duel.

The Lord of the Nazgul gazed proudly at his prey, a sword in one hand and a great flail in the other. Both Talion and Celebrimbor marveled at the size of it. His opponent let out a hiss as he slowly approached the ranger. Beneath the hood, Talion could see the shrunken features of the old king of men. Shrunken and with white hair, he reminded him of his own wraith. However, Talion could not use the sight of the wraith too long. Full of whispers and the ripples of the netherworld, it was far too distracting. Fortunately, Talion had the eyes of a trained ranger. Even in the cover of darkness, he could see the mightiest of Sauron's servants striding forward.

The Witch King saluted Talion with his silver sword. Talion rose his sword in the same gesture. With that, the greatest of warriors of both armies flew forward. The Witch King's wail pierced Talion's ears, but he would not be stopped. He ducked below the swing of the Witch King's sword. The Nazgul released his flail, choosing to duel with blade alone. He held the great sword with a single hand. Each of his swings was perfectly aimed and faster than any, even the Black Hand. Talion parried them only at the last moment. Each blow forced him backwards with the strength of an Olog, but he would not have it. He rolled backwards and already as he landed, he sent an arrow forward. He emerged at the Witch King's side and swung down. The Black Captain's free hand grabbed him by the throat and into the ground. His sword stabbed downwards, but Talion pulled in his legs and regained his footing. The Gravewalker was reminded of the Hammer's same countermove. Indeed, the Witch King was the one who trained the Black Captains in the art of war.

The Witch King swung his sword and instantly reeled it backwards, so he held it level to Talion's head. He lunged forward with a quick thrust, aiming for his opponent's skull. Talion moved his head to the side and angled his sword for the enemy's throat. The Witch King became intangible and the sword passed through him. He emerged in front of it and sent a high swing at his opponent. Talion's cross guard collided with the enemy's. He knew a single mistake would cost him and he would be infected by the Morgul blade. He pulled out the Elven glave and swung it at the Wraith. The Wraith's blade shattered through the shaft before Talion could finish his swing. Now, a cut ran through his plates of armor, destroying it as if it were leather. He had no choice but to summon the power of the ring.

"Talion," said Celebrimbor, "Remember how we first scattered them."

The ring hummed and the inscriptions upon it glowed brightly.

"A ring… you have made a new ring, Celebrimbor," said the Ringwraith, "So, this is the source of your courage."

Talion summoned the glave once again and slammed it into the ground. The blast of wind sent the companies about him backwards. Waves of wind scattered the Orcs and Men alike. The Witch King drew his sword in another salute. The green fires once again wrapped around the blade. Talion called upon more power. The Witch King's robes rippled and Talion saw his ghostly glow being torn about. However, the Nazgul swung out his sword and cut through the magic. Talion was knocked backwards from the raw power alone. The Witch King switched his blade to his left hand and reached down for his other weapon. The great flail.

Talion fired off an arrow as the head of the flail tore through the air. Like the charge of an Oliphant, it could not be stopped. The Witch King effortlessly spun it around each time the ranger approached. When the Gravewalker teleport ed through it, the Witch King's sword was ready to block him. Talion rolled about as the flail dug deep into the road, shattering the stone pavement. He swung his sword and sent great ice crystals forward. The Ringwraith passed through them unharmed. He suddenly vanished from sight and encircled his opponent. A black cloud now blinded Talion. His sharp eyes searched for a sign of where the Witch King would strike. Suddenly, he heard the hum of the enemy's sword approaching. Talion's arrow was ready and appeared above the Witch King with a downward strike. The sword cut only air as the black smoke appeared once more. Talion swung his sword around as his opponent materialized. He ducked below the swing of his flail. He saw the glimmer of the Witch King's sword appearing from a back swing. As the flail passed by, his sword closely followed. Talion blocked the enemy's blade with the blunt edge of his sword and parried it upwards. Talion's sword was now behind the enemy's own weapon and he saw his opening.

Talion's sword came swiftly down upon the Witch King. In that moment, the Witch King grabbed Talion by the wrist and wrenched his arm to the side. He had dropped both his weapons, choosing to brandish a small dagger. Talion's eyes widened as he felt the sting of the blade. He looked down to see it had pierced the break in his armor, split open by the Wraith's slash. A dark power now began to flow through his veins, stemming from the stab wound. He screamed in pain and knocked the Witch King back with a kick to his stomach. As the Ringwraith released him, the ranger ducked low and called upon his bow. He fired it so that he escaped to a nearby rooftop. Looking down, he saw the wound was now black. His muscles were becoming stiff. Even so, the power of the ring slowed down the infection.

"What is happening to me?"

"A Morgul blade has infected you. Soon you will be one of them. We must die."

"Not yet. We must evacuate the city and find the Palantir."

"Indeed."

The War Graug had retreated for now. An entire legion now poured into the city, although not the Witch King's finest. These remained outside the wall. Olog and Warg riders dashed across the main road, breaking the barricades and sending back the Gondorian soldiers.

"Retreat!" shouted Baranor, "Retreat to the royal courtyard!"

As the Gondorians made their escape, the Witch King appeared before them. They froze in horror as they stared up at him. With a swing of his blade, he decapitated an officer. Many now scattered around him as he lay waste to the masses. His mighty flail took off the head of another. With each swing, he let out another scream that curled their blood. As one, they cried out in fear. Of course, there were those that resisted. Out of the hundreds that fled, dozens rose up against him. They dashed at him with shield and spear in hand, hoping to impale him. The Witch King's flail battered their shields. His sword slashed them apart as he wove through their ranks. From behind, a brave officer, atop a horse, charged at him. The Witch King spun about, launching his flail into their shield-bearers while his sword cut up those that came to close. At the last moment, he moved beside the horse and his sword came to its throat. The horse keeled over and its rider fell onto his stomach. Before he could recover, the High Commander's bladed foot bore down upon him, crushing his skull with ease. Soaked in their blood, he now called in his brethren. It was time to deal with the last of the resistance.

Talion clutched at the wound in his stomach as he flew about the rooftops, heading for the location of General Castamir. He could wait no longer for the Palantir. As he made his way, he heard a feint sound beside him and sent his blade in its direction. Without fail, the stranger blocked his attack. He saw a curved, elegant dagger laced with gold and silver. It hummed as it resonated against his blade. He turned to see a hooded, slim figure clad in armor like feathers and a set of dark green robes. The fair face he looked upon was that of an Elf.

She said, "You are poisoned, ranger. You cannot win this battle alone. Let us face this doom together."

Castamir watched from the height of the royal tower as the Gondorian soldiers and the masses of civilians ran to his mighty estate. Behind them, legions of Orc were in pursuit. These were not the mindless rabble of Orcs he was used to. These were led by a trained officer, kept in rows, and divided by their function in the army. The Witch King's victory had been inevitable. Castamir had known this for months now. He had known it when Sauron showed him the legions leaving Mordor when he had dared to stare into the Palantir. All that awaited him was despair. Even now, despair claimed him.

Through the windows, black plumes of smoke erupted. They spilled onto the ground and out sprung the hooded-figures of the Nazgul. Leading them was the High Commander himself.

"Your Palantir" said the General. He quickly bowed to the ground.

"I have obeyed your every command."

"Your ranger," said a Nazgul, "Has delayed the siege many days."

"He can do nothing against so many. Against you. Please… give me my daughter."

The Witch King said, "Where is the map?"

"Ah… it is not needed. The people can do nothing but await death or imprisonment."

The Witch King grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. Castamir gagged and struggled in vein.

"Wait! I have it. It is on the table!"

As the Witch King released him, one of the Nazgul reached to the tabletop and grabbed hold of the scroll.

Castamir said in a commanding voice, "Now… let her go."

"Father?"

He turned to see Idril standing before him. Castamir's expression swiftly changed into one of fear and shame.

"Idril! Leave at once!"

"Father, what have you done?"

Idril pulled out her sword. The Witch King let out another horrid cry. The shieldmaiden dropped her weapon and fell to her knees trembling.

The Witch King turned to one of his Nazgul and said, "Send the Orcs to these tunnels. Slay all but half."

Idril asked weakly, "W-what have you done, Father? The tunnels… you told them where the people would flee? There is no other way to escape but through the caverns beneath the city!"

"It was for you… I did all for you, Idril. I love you."

He turned to the Witch King and said, "Let her go. That was our deal."

The Witch King said, "You did nothing as the Gravewalker hunted us. Through your despair, you hoped he would bring victory. A fine effort fit for a general of Gondor. And a traitor on all fronts. Kill him."

The Nazgul beside him, the same that had fought Baranor, tore out his sword and ran it through the General's throat. Castamir's eyes widened with surprise as he felt the blood spill from his jugular. His hands wrapped around it as the life poured out of him. He let out a squelching sound as he tried to speak, but it was to no avail. He dropped to his knees and reached out for his daughter. Idril cried out in pain as she gazed into his eyes for the last time and saw the regret that filled them.

The Nazgul that had slain him now strode towards her. His blade was at his side, still crimson with her father's blood. Idril, still trembling with fear and despair, let out a growl of frustration.

She cried out, "Do it then! Kill me if you can!"

She grabbed hold of her sword and blocked his downward swing. The Nazgul let out a piercing screaming at her once again. Idril stumbled backwards but continued to hold her sword, ready for a killing stroke.

"Join him now in death…" said the cruel voice of the crowned Nazgul.

An arrow flew next to him and down came the ranger's swing. The crowned wraith managed to block the sword as Talion continued a flurry of fearsome blows. As they fought, a hooded figure crept up behind the crowd of Nazgul and stabbed one in the back. A green light shone out of it as she pierced it. Several Wraith now spun around as she dashed forward and slid low. Her daggers cut at their legs. She then flipped to the side so that she was beside Talion and Idril.

All three heroes stood against the forces of darkness. Their blades were held high, ready to face the onslaught that was to come.

Talion said to Idril, "You have done well."

She answered, "We must hurry. They know of the tunnels my people will use to escape. They will massacre them."

The crowned Nazgul spoke, "She-Elf, you have come too late. Die now and rise as my puppet."

The hooded Elf said, "If you have the power to slay me, then use it."

The Nazgul now descended upon them. The room erupted into a blinding cloud of smoke and from it, came the cursed blades. In a blink of an eye, death came for them on all sides. Even so, Talion and the Elf stood against them and blocked the swings. Talion summoned the ring and sent out great ice crystals to pierce them. From behind, another Nazgul tried to flank them. Idril rose her blade and blocked it, staggering backwards from the force of its blow. The three of them watched all angles, parrying every strike the Nazgul sent their way.

One with a great hammer broke through the ice crystals while the crowned Nazgul gathered a dark curse to envelop them. The Elf drew up her hand, with a small vile of water in hand. In the darkness, it shone like a perfect light, one that surpassed the moon itself. A light of gold now warmed Idril's frozen body. She looked up to see the enemy's magic could not harm them. It parted as it hit the shield of light that saved her. However, the Nazgul began to slide their swords through the shield, hoping to pierce her even as the light burned their hollow forms. The Elf slipped the light away and dueled them with a pair of silver daggers. She danced elegantly, deflecting two Nazgul as they attacked. Talion summoned Celebrimbor to block a teleporting Ringwraith's strike with his glave. Meanwhile, the ranger ducked below the swing of the hammer. However, he felt himself collapse as the curse of the Morgul blade spread through him.

The Elf said, "I will hold them. Take her while you have strength left. Leave this city."

Talion nodded. He picked up Idril into his arms and fell from the tower. The five Nazgul turned their blades to the assassin. She held out the light of Galadriel and let its light consume the room. The wraith screamed in pain as it hit them. Amidst the shining star, the Witch King drew his sword. An aura of shadow encased him that the light did not penetrate.

The Witch King said, "The city is taken. Die here as a final testament to this victory."

She said, "You of all people should know death is not final and victory… is fleeting. We will meet again my King."

The Elf smiled and threw her off the side of the window. She flipped over it and landed on all fours on a roof below. Like the wind, she dashed forward, soon to gain on the ranger.

Authors' Note: You may have noticed the appearance of the Witch King and his weapons is closer to his portrayal in Return of the King. For me, this is his best appearance and I wish various adaptations wouldn't try to reinvent it in less grand ways. I love him so much in that movie. Besides, the Hammer already uses Sauron's morning star so having the Witch King use one seems derivative. The Witch King should use a flail and a sword wreathed in flames. He should sound like Andy Serkis and have a scowling crown. I did try to imbue his appearance with the green ghostly elements of the game, suggesting his clothes and weapons are not physical items.