There was a sound, the soft rustle of trees. Merry and Pippin whirled about in fear, weapons drawn. In almost the same moment both weapons hit the ground. The hobbits stared, stunned, mouths agape… Pippin moved first, reaching out timidly, great tears rolling from reddened eyes. "…G…Gandalf?" Merry seemed frozen in place, unable to stir from where he stood. "You're not… you're not dead! You're not dead!" In an instant both hobbits fell upon the wizard who pulled them close despite his wincing. "But how Gandalf! How! I saw you fall under the fell beast's talons and you didn't stir! Even when I shook you! You didn't stir!"

The wizard smiled, pushing the hobbits of gently. "Indeed, I should not have stirred; the wraith had driven my breath from me. It was lucky that he to soon took me for dead."

Pippin sputtered, "But the blood! The wounds! You were torn to pieces!" Gandalf stared at him.

"…Torn to pieces? I must heal very fast indeed!" Pippin scowled despite his weeping, "Don't jest Gandalf! I saw you! You may as well have been skewered!" Gandalf smiled, but it was a worn smile, empty somehow, hopeless…

"Worry not for me, my friends. There is not the time. Nay, I can tarry with you no longer! Already too much time has passed, and his time runs short as mine. Hear me, do not loose hope. No matter what may come, do not let go. Hold firm, fight, if it can be saved than middle earth will be, if not… let us at least die fighting."

Without another word Gandalf turned and faded. His form passing between their fingers as if… as if he had never been…

…

All stood still in the blackness. The Witch King stood silent. Almost timidly, Murazor stretched out his hand. Show me again… the sharp gauntlet tips scraped the empty plane, watching the blackness ripple like water. And for a moment a form flashed. Desperate he grabbed for it, but it was gone. Hissing the wraith struck out, shattering the fragile glass with his claw, watching as it tinkled to the ground. From my lord you drew me! In the blackness of a centuries sleep you pulled me forth! Show yourself! No games! No more tricks! Set me free! The shriek echoed, bouncing back and almost forcing him to recoil.

"…feeling better lost one?"

She stood radiant before him, Elven, and ancient, and he loathed both. He hissed, pulling forth his blade and raising it in stance. "Hear me, king of Numorean lands long since gone." He shrieked, pulling away from the ringing tones that Elvin tongue, as hateful to him as fire. "In the blood of your people the blood of mine flowed, as there were ties between us once. I call on your old blood, as sure as the sea calls mine."

"The end has come, night has fallen and the last forces of our world run to their fate… soon all will fade, as you faded, and end all. The time for you has come to chose."

The glass floated back to its frame, fussing to a sheet of black. It rippled, and in its depths the sun rose above the shoreline. "Here once you dwelled, and made your oaths to your people. To protect and defend, to honor, and cherish. For you were married to your people by your blood and your oaths…
Then came the gift giver, the deceiver. Your honor is shattered as the glass you spread a moment before, though I fear not as easily repaired, or forgiven. Now Murazor, King of dust and shadow, see what your lord will do, when the war is won, and the ring, thine." She faded and was gone, his blade slashed through nothingness, hitting ground. The red in his eyes flickered, irritated, weary, and the wound from the old blade burned behind his knee. He whirled, searching the darkness for movement and none rose to face him. Angrily he turned toward the mirror.

Izg lat iist-... golug…agh ufur- nar iist-…narash tal tab, zamal –izg ufur-…

I know you… she elf… and fear you not… there is nothing, that I fear…

Mordor, The Black Gate

The gates loomed above them, dark as midnight and sharp as glass. On the walls the nine were mounted, watching the army with burning eyes. Aragorn raised his head as a beast dropped from the dark sky behind them, joining its fellows at the gates. (We have been followed all this way? Why did the eagles not sense it!) The trolls groaned as they pulled the great gates apart, and a helmed figure rode forth to stand before them. Aragorn pulled to the head, the Elf and Dwarf rode forward to stand beside him. Still glaring at each other in fact, and the sight formed a lump in the ranger's throat.

"I, am the mouth of Sauron. Speak, and be heard."

Aragorn raised his sword, "We have no need of words this day!" the eagles in the sky screamed, and the fell beasts shrieked their challenge. There came a soft chuckling from the dark ones tongue, he spurred his beast forward, and circled the three leaders for a moment before returning to his place.

"…I see, a mortal king whose time to rule has ended before beginning, an elf who fled from the Orcs of the gate of Mordor, barely coming before departing, and a Dwarf whose ancestors sold weaponry to Mordor's host in hope of being spared." Aragorn turned surprised to the ones at his sides. The elf had averted his gaze, the dwarf lowered his head. "This shall challenge us, break the black gate, climb our tower and extinguish our flame? We think not!" There came the sound of bows being drawn, and the forces bellow looked up and blanched. Easterlings with bow strings taunt leered down at them, and there came a hiss from the Nine, eager for combat.

High! High! Upon the walls!
See the spear heads gleam so brightly!
Listen! The watchman calls!
These are signs not to take lightly!

Here stand we at the gate of death!
We shall fight till dawn has broken!
"Flee now! Or end your breath!"
The Eye of fire's Mouth has spoken!

Do not run! When the arms are raised against you!

Feel no fear, though it seems you cannot win!

We must stand! Until at last the night has fallen!

There can be, greater strength than His within!

Raise your arms!
Build your walls!
We will fight till darkness falls!

Show your spears!
Strike your blows!
We will stand the Valar knows!

Do not run, Show no fear! We speak hope they cannot hear!

Believe my friends,
know my foes,
Not with death shall these men doze!

-Do not run! Have no fear! Ancient hope still lingers here!

In these lives, in our hands,
rests the fate of all our lands!

Do not run! Show no fear! We will stand! Let them jeer!

Let the eye, show its will…
…I stand here and blood! Will! Spill!

Like the crashing of the tide the enemies came together, swords and spears flashing, arrows flying and eagles screaming, shields shattered, horses reared and plunged, and man and Orc alike vanished below the hooves. And high above, the Nazgul cried out for blood.