Um...hello? Guys? I know it's been a while since I've updated, but this is the longest and probably the best chapter yet! It will be worth the wait! So, please read on!
Disclaimer: finally, the last time I have to tell you I don't own LoTR! Yay, I just said it, now I don't have to write it anymore!
I would like to dedicate this chapter to daisymall13, XxRandom NemesisxX and TharanduilsHeartAndSoul. You guys are awesome, have reviewed every chapter, stuck with me through it all, and have wrote great stories. You're the best!
It was a stormy night at Hobbiton, and that reflected everyone's mood.
Inside hobbit holes, men, elves and dwarves alike sat with the hobbits that had remained in the Shire, the ones who had stayed to fight. At Bag End, Frodo and his friends sat by the fire smoking, though it was hardly appropriate at the time. Judging by the speed their enemies had chased them at, Aragorn, Legolas and Gandalf worked out that Sauron's army would reach them in a day, maybe two if they were lucky.
The skill the men had with metal was enough to make decent armour for the hobbits. They wore chainmail and simple plate armour over it, only leaving their heads exposed. It was the same for their weapons, and the swords were not unlike Sam, Merry and Pippin's (of course they weren't like Frodo's, for Sting was an elvish blade). Some hobbits had even been trained in archery, and had caught on incredibly quickly. Which was as well, because it would not be long until they heard the horns of the enemy.
The dawn broke, though no one had slept, kept awake because of the fear of what was coming. Scouts of all four races were sent from Hobbiton to raise the alarm at the first sight of orcs.
It was midday by the time a horse came up to the heroes. An elf was riding it, with a hobbit on the rear of the saddle.
"What news?" asked Aragorn.
"The enemy is here," the elf replied. A silence fell upon. "But they are not moving forward."
"What?" they all exclaimed.
"They stopped on the plains between here and Buckland," the hobbit piped up.
"And they wish for a parley," the elf concluded.
"This is most strange indeed," said Gandalf. "Sauron would cut us down the moment he had the chance."
"What do you think we should do, Aragorn?" asked Legolas.
"Sauron obviously wants to say something, so we'll hear it. But we will all go. This is the time we have been preparing for. When Sauron's finished, he will no doubt give the command to attack. We ride now, to the battle which will decide the fate of Middle-Earth."
A great shout went up from their army of men, elves, dwarves and hobbits. They all mounted their steeds, dwarves and hobbits sharing horses with elves and men, and rode towards their enemy.
*****
Sauron surveyed the terrain below him. His army was currently situated on the top of a small hill. He could see far enough away to tell when the men and other races came. Behind him, his army stretched out, with three lines of orcs mixed with trolls. Behind them the Nazgûl waited beside their fell beasts, Gothmog in the middle of them.
The Witch-King stood beside his lord, his helm with the gaping mouth glinting in the sunlight. "Why the parley, my lord?" he asked. "Why can't we just kill them all and be done with it?"
"Because I want to savour this moment," Sauron replied. "They have no idea what I'm about to unleash, and I can't wait to see their faces. This will ensure my ultimate victory."
"But we don't need it! We could just attack the puny settlement they're staying at! This plan is pointle-"
He was cut off as something hit him in the stomach, causing him to topple over. Looking up, he saw Sauron holding his mace. "How dare you talk like that!" The dark lord's voice was seething with anger. "You deserve to be killed, slowly and painfully, for that remark! And he would have come up with a worse punishment than that. That is why we are doing this, to ensure no one will oppose us any longer. Your mind is small, your ideas only concerning what is within your reach. I, however, am thinking of the bigger picture. I don't just want Middle-Earth. I want all of Arda."
"You...you would take the fight to the Valar?" said the Witch-King in shock as he got up.
"Yes, but I can't do that without this plan. I need my-"
He was cut off as a great cry came out of their army. Looking at the bottom of the hill, he saw a line of horses and riders approaching. In the middle, their leader held up a hand and they stopped. Aragorn faced Sauron, his friends on either side. There were a few moments of frightful silence, then Sauron broke it.
"Well met, son of Arathorn!" He made no effort to hide his hate, making the comment sound sarcastic. "It is obvious that you are wondering why I called a parley. Well, I tell you, it is not to negotiate. I have something to show, and I guarantee I won't be the only thing you have to fear."
He held his hand up high, and it was clutching an emerald stone. "Behold, the founding stone of the House of Elrond!" The elves' faces contorted with anger at the sight. The stone was still green, but had lost its glittering sparkle. "This is not the only thing I have to show you." He then pulled out the sword the orcs had found in the ground with his free hand. "This is a very precious item to all of you. Now lay eyes upon the lost sword of Fëanor, crafter of the Slimarils!"
A great gasp went through the men, elves, dwarves, and even hobbits, but it turned to rage. Some even cried out curses, but were ignored. Sauron continued his speech. "You do not know why I have these items, and you do not want to know. But when put together, they hold a great power. For if the sword should stab the stone, it would signify darkness among elves. And that is what I want. Now behold as the ultimate evil comes forth!"
He lifted the sword and pointed it down to the stone. As he held the pose, his army started chanting, slowly and steadily, "Sau-ron! Sau-ron!" The beat quickened as the blade drove down into the stone. There was a loud crack as a thin black line appeared in the stone and the emerald shine disappeared. As more cracks appeared the stone turned darker and darker, as the elves looked on in horror. The chant was even faster than before, and the words sounded mashed up. Suddenly the stone exploded in Sauron's hand. The chant stopped. The fragments of the stone had disappeared, replaced by a black mist that poured on to the ground. It seemed to spread. A darkness covered the sky and there were sounds of thunder. The orcs began another chant, slow and steady, but with a new name. "Mor-goth! Mor-goth!"
The four united races felt a horror they had never felt before.
"Elvish blood must be spilled," said Sauron. An orc fired an arrow from within the lines, with surprisingly good aim. An elf fell off his horse, the arrow in its neck.
The mist suddenly sprung up, like a great column, some of it circling around the base. Two red shapes appeared, burning distinctly. A great roar came from the smoke, followed by a dark voice worse than the ones they had already heard put together.
"I have returned! Nothing can defeat me! I am Morgoth, the ultimate evil, the last fear you shall ever have!"
It was a wonder none of the four races galloped away.
"This parley is over," shouted Sauron. "When I'm finished with you, my master will return. Prepare to charge!"
The dark army drew its weapons, the front line pointing pikes forward to crash into their enemies. It would not be long before Sauron gave the command.
Upon seeing the scene, Aragorn rode in front of his men with his sword drawn. He turned around and saw their hopeless expressions. "My friends," he began. "Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits. The people of Middle-Earth. I know how you feel, for my heart bears the same fear. But take heart! All is not lost. We are the true races, the ones this land will always belong to. Our will is stronger than the blades of the enemy! We will stand and fight for everything we hold dear, for what is right!"
Behind him, the orcs were ready and Sauron held his arm up, ready to give the command.
"Who will join with me against the darkness? Who will help me defend all that is good and right? My friends, who will make a stand with me?"
"I will join you my lord," said Gandalf. "Whether it leads to victory or death."
"And I," said Frodo, who was on the same horse as Gandalf. The wizard led his horse alongside Aragorn's.
"And us." Legolas led his and Gimli's horse forward.
"And I," said Arwen, Sam with her on the horse.
"And I," said Éomer. He came out with Pippin.
"And I," said Éowyn, riding with Merry.
"And us." Celeborn and Glorfindel moved into the same position.
"We all will," the line shouted victoriously. They all turned to see Sauron throwing his arm down and the orcs rushing forward.
"Now we charge," said Aragron, "against the greatest evils in this world. We shall ride to death and glory! We shall not surrender! The free peoples of this realm will show their valour and courage! Now the battle to decide the fate of our land has begun! I bid you stand, people of Middle-Earth!"
They all drew their weapons and charged at the orcs that were almost upon them. In seconds the two lines collided with each other. Pikes were thrown, swords clashed, shields were splintered and hearts were pierced. Both sides let out cries of war and pain. The final battle had begun.
As the armies fought, the Nazgûl rose from behind the orcs and rose into the air. When they were high above the ground, the fell beasts turned downwards towards their prey, the ringwraiths letting out their horrid screams. The fell beasts dived deep into the rush of four different races, and used their usual attack of picking them up and dropping them to their doom. They rose from the back of the army and made to turn round, but arrows were sent into their bodies. Hobbits on the back of horses were using bows with amazing precision, and the fell beasts roared in anger and pain. As they circled back to the front of the line, a blurry form of fire flew underneath them. It landed in the middle of the line and solidified. Gothmog swung his axe and whip through the line, setting horses and their riders on fire. He flapped his wings, floating above them, as he spewed fireballs from his mouth. Landing again, he cut through them. The battle was going in the enemy's favour.
There was a sudden cry as a Nazgûl fell from its mount. An arrow had amazingly hit it off the fell beast.
"Nice shot," commented Gimli as he swung at an orc attempting to stab the horse.
"I think one of those is worth ten kills," Legolas replied as he notched another arrow.
"Nice try! I guess I'm winning. Fourteen!" he shouted as he sliced through an orc's neck.
"Don't worry, I'll catch up soon enough."
Aragorn's horse collided with the tide of orcs. He cut into the shoulder of one that was trying to knock him off with a spear, then stabbed another one on the other side. One of the creature's suddenly jumped out from behind and grabbed him from behind. Aragorn tried to remove the clawing hands, but to no avail. Then he felt the orc being swept away, and turned to see Gandalf removing his sword from the body. Frodo was slashing at the enemies behind them, and Aragorn rushed over to help.
His horse reared and trampled one of the baffled monsters and came up beside Gandalf. The pair lashed out in unison, two swords and a staff, on either side. They cut through, but stopped short as a black form came towards them with a drawn sword. The Nazgûl had joined the fight.
Éowyn drove her spear through an orc before doing the same to one in front of her. She turned to throw it at one sneaking up from behind. Before she could, however, a blade was pushed through its chest. Merry pulled away his sword, just in time to chop the head of another orc. Éowyn turned back just in time to stop another one charging at their horse. An archer caught her sight and was grinning at her while loading an arrow. Éowyn brought her arm back and threw the spear through the air. The orc's grin vanished as the spear-point went through its chest.
Merry pushed a scimitar away from his head before stabbing through the opening in its wielder's defence. He turned just in time to see a mace swinging at his head. He ducked and it flew overhead, turning back to the orc that held it. It brought the mace up over its head, but it was heavy, and Merry decapitated it a split second before it would've been lifted. He turned to face his next opponent, then wished he hadn't. A warrior in black robes faced him, a silver helm in front of where its head should've been. In one hand the shape held a sword, the other a swinging mace.
Éowyn had noticed it too, and turned towards the Witch-King, the Nazgûl she and Merry had slain before. He moved towards them, sticking out from the rest of the battle. He stopped only a few paces away.
"You killed me once, Lady of Rohan," he said. "Now I will have my revenge."
"Go back to the shadow while you can, beast!" she replied. "We destroyed you before, we can do it again."
"You are not wise to face me. Foolishness will only result in your death!"
He moved forward and swung his sword at Éowyn's side. She blocked it with her shield and the blade bounced off it. But the mace came next. She tensed her arm as the ball of spikes hit the shield. It only sent a few splinters flying, but the blow was enough to knock her off her horse. She rolled on the ground for a few moments, then got up to see her horse falling, limp. The Witch-King was moving towards Merry, who had also fallen off. He held his sword up courageously, but fear was what he really felt in his heart. He swung, but the Witch-King blocked it with ease. The ringwraith then lashed out with his foot, kicking Merry's head and knocking his helm off. As the Witch-King prepared to stab the dazed hobbit, Éowyn charged into him. The Witch-King let out a shriek as he fell, Éowyn towering above him. She was about to stab him when he suddenly swung his mace at her feet. She cried out in pain as the spikes dug into her thighs. Her legs buckled and she fell, the Witch-King now towering above her. Merry then threw a sword at the Witch-King, catching his attention, then ran forward. The Witch-King brought his sword down. Merry had to raise his to block, but the Nazgûl's stroke was so strong he was caught off balance. The Witch-King now stood above them both.
"I warned you," he said with triumph in his voice. "Now die!"
He brought both sword and mace up above him. Éowyn and Merry caught a glimpse of the Witch-King dropping his weapons before the darkness took them.
Not far off, Éomer and Pippin saw the Witch-King kill them, and they were filled with grief. That soon turned to anger, and before they knew it they were charging at the Nazgûl. Éomer swung down but was blocked, then raised his sword again, repeating the process. The exchange continued, every second fuelling Éomer's hate. His blows became more violent and less accurate, and that gave the Witch-King an edge. He knocked the King of Rohan's sword away and reacted instantly, driving his blade through his chest. The lifeless body fell off the horse and Pippin turned round. His face contorted with pain as he cried out, and the Witch-King took his chance. Pippin's body joined the other corpses before he had realized the blade had sliced his chest.
*****
On the other side of the battle, Glorfindel and two other elves were fighting off three of the Nazgûl. One of the wraiths stabbed forward with its sword, but Glorfindel knocked it aside. He then tried to swing his weapon through the Nazgûl's open body. But it was too quick and managed to parry the blow. The duel continued for a few minutes. There was a scream beside Glorfindel as an elf beside was killed. While he was distracted, the Nazgûl he had been fighting kickd his chest with the sharp end of its metal boot. The air was pushed out of Glorfindel as he buckled and fell. As the Nazgûl prepared to deliver the final blow, a knife flew out of nowhere and dug into its chest. The wraith screamed in pain as another elf ran up and swung at it with his sword. The wraith blocked, then ran off screaming to tend its wound with the other two following. The elf turned to Glorfindel, who was now relieved. Celeborn helped him up and they surveyed the battle.
It was not going well. Their forces were nearly completely surrounded by orcs, and there were trolls marching forward to join the fight. Here and there were black shapes, and little damage was being done to them.
There was suddenly a roar and a fiery shape flew over the two elves. Gothmog landed behind them and slahed at the warriors at his feet with axe and whip, forming streaks of fire across the grass. Glorfindel and Celeborn decided to use this distraction to their advantage.
Celeborn threw another knife at the Balrog, and it landed just below its neck. It didn't feel much pain, but it was distracted. As it clawed at its back the group of warriors it had been destroying retreated. Gothmog eventually pulled the knife out, melting it in its hand, and turned to the two elf rulers. He roared and charged at them, holding his flaming axe above his head. Celeborn and Glorfindel rolled away on either side of him when he was close enough, then stood up behind the beast. Glorfindel quickly ran up to Gothmog and grabbed his tail, avoiding the fire. It swung madly, trying to shake him off, but Glorfindel then sprang up the back and was hanging on underneath the wings. The Balrog was in a fury now, desperately trying to get rid of the elf. Its fiery wings were flapping and kept coming dangerously close to Glorfindel. An arrow flew by and pierced one of the wings, then another in the other wing. Gothmog stopped flapping them and drew them in close. As Glorfindel continued to climb, the Balrog turned to where the arrows had come from. Celeborn stood there with two elves and three hobbits armed with bows. There were also a few men and dwarves brandishing their swords and axes. The latter pair charged and the archers fired upon Gothmog to prevent him from attacking the soldiers. At its feet, the men and dwarves chopped at its legs and feet, the bottom of the belly, anywhere they could. Gothmog had forgotten completely about Glorfindel, who had now climbed above the wings and was on the neck, which was now curving so that it pointed outwards from the body. It was harder to keep a firm grip on the tramping beast, and he only just managed it. Soon he was standing on the creature's neck, but there were cries rising up from below. Looking down, he saw the men and dwarves being trampled and cut down by the fire. Glorfindel moved forwards and now stood between the horns on Gothmog's head. He raised his sword, pointed it downwards, and stabbed the head. The Balrog stopped in its tracks, ignoring those at his feet who had recovered and continuing their assault, then roared and rolled his head around. Glorfindel was able to hold on with one hand, and kept stabbing the head with his sword in the other. A huge claw suddenly came above the head and moved down towards it. Glorfindel moved out of the way as the claw slapped down on the head. It made Glorfindel lose his balance, and he fell off towards the ground. A huge pain engulfed his body, and he was sure he heard a crack. Somebody shouted his name, then he saw Celeborn looking down at him. But a great flame knocked him out of the way. Glorfindel knew it was the end. He closed his eyes in piece as the axe slammed into his chest. Beside him, Celeborn fell to the great whip of Gothmog.
*****
The six remaining heroes; Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Frodo and Sam, were in locked in a battle worse than any other on the field. They had managed to get through the armies to reach their goal, and Sauron now stood looking down at them with his mace and sword.
"This is your last warning, Sauron," said Gandalf. "Surrender now or we will destroy you!"
"We will see what my master has to say about that," the Dark Lord replied. The column of mist was suddenly beside them, and it began getting larger. Metal spikes could be seen poking out from the top. Morgoth was rising. Sauron then ran towards the six who opposed him and brought his mace down. The warriors, who had lost their horses in battle, dodged it easily. Aragorn stood and saw the sword coming towards him. He ducked and then rolled away as it came back to Sauron. As it came forward again Aragorn raised his and blocked it. He managed to keep it at bay, through strength of will, and attempted to push it back. Something then stuck into the Dark Lord's arm, and he lifted it up in pain as Gimli pulled his axe out. Behind him, Legolas had loaded an arrow and fired at Sauron's right eye-hole. It flew true and the Dark Lord bellowed in pain and rage. The three friends prepared to attack again, and Gandalf and the hobbits joined them. They rushed forward together, holding their weapons high in triumph, and the Dark Lord lowered his to block them. A large sword, two smaller ones, an axe, two knives and a staff struggled against a huge mace and sword in a lock. None of them could guess how long it remained that way, for it seemed to drag on for hours, but an invisible force suddenly made the heroes fly up into the air. Before they realized it they fell into the ground a few feet away from Sauron.
Aragorn looked towards the Dark Lord, and what he saw quenched all hope. The column of mist had nearly disappeared, and in its place stood Sauron's master dressed in his dark armour. It was the same as Sauron's but bulkier and covered in long spikes. Two red slits shone through the helm: his eyes burned with a malice that could not be quenched.
Aragorn nearly cowered in despair, as anyone else who saw the sight. It was the end, for all of Middle-earth. Morgoth was rising, rising...
Then nothing.
Nothing. That's it. Zilch. Zero. I think that was my best cliffie yet. If you want to find out what it means, then you will in the epilogue, which will come...after you give me your reviews! And remember, the review you post will be the greatest one affecting your chances of winning my competition. So give a really, long nice one, and you will star with me asking your favourite LoTR, Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Torchwood characters your questions! Remember, there is also Twilight torture! So, read and review, and make it your nicest one yet!