Inside, a pale mist hung in the air. The tunnel ceiling was high enough for a tall Elf to walk comfortably, but the walls forced a single-file line. Ancient skeletons lay in holes cut into the walls. Through the mist, it would have been nearly impossible for Mornie to see her father only a few feet ahead of her in front of Legolas had it not been for his torch. They stuck close together. One passage they passed by was filled with skulls. Legolas, however, hesitated, seeing something the others could not see.
"What is it?" Gimli asked. "What do you see?"
"I see shapes of men," Legolas said, "and of horses."
"Where?" Gimli whispered.
"Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise, like winter thickets through a shroud of mist. The Dead are following. They have been summoned." And he pressed on, Mornie following close behind. Soon the mist began to be concentrated lower. It became hands, reaching up to grab them. Everywhere they touched, the skin became cold. Legolas twisted and stepped carefully, trying to avoid them, so Mornie followed his lead.
"Do not look down," Aragorn whispered. Something rolled and crunched underneath Mornie's foot, but Legolas caught her. The natural instinct was to look down, but he held her graze. She was able to straighten without looking, but things continued to crunch. She tried to step as lightly as she could, but it did little good. At last, she began to run with the others. Suddenly the small passage opened up and out into a huge cavern. On one side, pieces of a building could still be seen; across from it, however, was a gaping cliff, filled with the mist. Suddenly, an unearthly voice echoed around the cavern, making Mornie's skin crawl.
"Who enters my domain?" it questioned. They turned to see some sort of being. A crown was on his head, and pieces of hair and beard seemed to cling still to his skeletal face. However, he was there and wasn't there.
"One who will have your allegiance," Aragorn replied.
"The Dead do not suffer the living to pass," the king stated.
"You will suffer me," Aragorn said. The king laughed, and suddenly a city was there and wasn't there above the emptiness next to the cliff. Then many warriors who were there and weren't there surrounded them and began to close in around them.
"The way is shut," the king said. "It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it. The way is shut. Now you must die."
The army began to advance. Legolas shot an arrow at the king, but it passed right through his forehead. They continued to advance. They were trapped.
"I summon you to fulfill your oath," Aragorn advanced as well.
"None but the king of Gondor may command me," the king scoffed. And he raised his sword, but Aragorn met it with his, and steel rang.
"Narsil!" Mornie gasped.
"No," Legolas replied, "Anduril."
"The Flame of the West," Mornie translated.
"That line was broken," the king said.
"It has been remade," Aragorn replied, pushing him back. "Fight for us and regain your honor. What say you? What say you?"
"You waste your time, Aragorn," Gimli said. "They had no honor in life they have none now in death."
"I am Isildur's heir," Aragorn continued. "Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. What say you?"
The king began to laugh again, and the army rolled back, disappearing.
"You have my word!" Aragorn yelled after them. "Fight, and I will release you from this living death! What say you?!"
"Stand, you traitors!" Gimli hollered. The mountain trembled. Rocks began to fall; no, they were skulls. The entire walls of the mountain standing beside the real city crumbled. Skulls began to pour out.
"Out!" Aragorn shouted, and they ran, wading through the skulls, trying to forget what they really were, that instead they were just rocks. Mornie lost her footing and slipped a few feet, but she was up again in seconds. At last, they made a passageway and were free from the skulls, but not the falling stones. A large one crashed just behind them. Before long, they were out of the mountain.
Below them ran a river, and on that river a flaming town no longer stood. Black ships were sailing away, having completed their task; they were moving on to Minas Tirith. And now they could not be stopped. Aragorn knelt under the weight of that fact. Perhaps he did not think so yet, but Mornie immediately recognized it: the matter was hopeless. Suddenly a breeze came from the mountain-stone. The king came out.
"We fight," he said.
"You may go no further," Aragorn called to the lead ship when it was within hearing distance. "You will not enter Gondor." Of course, they laughed.
"Who are you to deny us passage?" one said.
"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear," Aragorn said quietly.
"Mind your aim," Gimli added. Legolas shot, but something happened, and he killed the man behind.
"That's it, right, we warned you," Gimli recovered. "Prepare to be boarded."
"Boarded? By you and whose army?" they laughed again.
"This army," Aragorn said, and the Dead attacked.
It was hours before dawn on the day they were to reach Minas Tirith. They were getting too close to Barad-dur, to Sauron. All was quiet, and only the lapping of the waves against the boat could be heard. Mornie stood from her place of rest and walked to the side of the ship and looked down. The water was black and deep, but she was a good swimmer. She sat down and swung her legs over the side of the ship, preparing to jump.
"You know, I never thought I would be saying this," a voice that made her skin crawl said behind her, "but I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Of course you wouldn't," she replied, turning to face the king of the Dead. "You have an oath to fulfill. I do not, and I leave for a different reason than the one you think."
"The only result that comes from deserting for whatever the reason is pain," the king said.
"What is going on?" Legolas asked, awakening. "Mornie, what are you doing?"
"I am sorry, Legolas, but I can't do this. I don't trust myself. I don't have your faith or my father's hope."
"So you will desert us?" Legolas said.
"Yes, since I must. Don't you understand?"
"Don't you? Mornie, you are safe. Sauron's servants are wholly evil; and yes, perhaps, once, you might have become one of them. But your father changed that. There is so much good in you, I know. At Edoras, you remember the children who rode in from the Westfold? I saw in your eyes sorrow for them, grief for that which they had had to suffer. You could not now cause that grief. Your mother made sure of that. So don't you understand? If you leave now, you will certainly not be letting me down, or even your father. You will be letting her down."
A tear slipped down Mornie's cheek. You'll smile; the sun will come out again at last. Legolas was right. She slipped back over the rail.
"Wait for my mark," was Aragorn's order to them. They lay low, unseen from land, waiting. They could hear the orcs jeering.
"Late as usual, pirate-scum! There's knife-work here needs doing. Come on, you sea rats, get off your ships!"
Aragorn jumped off first; the rest of the living followed quickly.
"There's plenty for the both of us. May the best Dwarf win," Gimli said.
"Hey wait, what about me? May the best – um, what am I exactly? Huh. I'll have to add that to my list of should-have-asked-Saruman's." Mornie half-smiled. As they attacked, the Dead followed. As soon as they got about 100 paces from the landing, they saw them: the Oliphaunts.
"You killed those things?" she asked Legolas.
"Yes, and I'll do it again today."
Mornie didn't have to wait long to see it. A few minutes later, Legolas was climbing the arrows in the leg of one of the Oliphaunts. He killed the few Men that attacked him once he was on top, then he grabbed a rope and swung out to the side of it, cutting the rope holding the top full of Men onto the beast, all while avoiding the trunk of the beast itself. Finally, he shot two arrows into its head. The great beast groaned, and Legolas rode the trunk down. Mornie simply nodded to him.
"That still only counts as one!" Gimli decided. The Dead swarmed the rest of the Oliphaunts as the living fought the orcs. Before long, all were defeated. Mornie sighed.
"I just wanted to try my hand at one," she said, gesturing to the Oliphaunts.
"How about this:" Legolas offered, "once this is all over, let's say we head up North and take on a few dragons."
"Deal," Mornie replied.
They turned their gaze to the city. Green mist poured in, like water extinguishing the flames. After all the enemy had been destroyed or had surrendered, Aragorn released the Dead. A fell wind blew through, and they were gone.
It did not take Mornie long to find Jim. He knelt weeping beside the body of the Ranger who had once been his master, a Man by the name of Halbarad. She comforted him as best she could. A cry full of grief rang out not far from them, and Mornie looked up. Eomer lamented, holding the body of Eowyn. How she came to that fate, no one knew. She was taken into the city, life only just clinging to her. Aragorn was able to heal her, but only just: she had lost the will to live, and they did not know how much longer she would survive. Later that night, Merry was also brought into the city. He had a similar wound to that of Eowyn. Mornie knew it; she had suffered it herself, though not nearly as much as these two had. Called by some the Black Breath, it was caused by the touch of a Nazgul. In this concentration, it could only be healed by the King of Gondor.
The next day, Gandalf called a debate among the commanders: Eomer and Aragorn. Legolas and Gimli and Mornie also attended. Gimli took the steward's chair. Legolas stood off to one side, and Mornie stood between him and Eomer. Her father waited for Gandalf on the other side of the chair.
"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf said at last. "The darkness is deepening."
"If Sauron had the Ring we would know it," Aragorn pointed out.
"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf argued. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but, behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."
"Let him stay there," Gimli said. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"
"Because 10,000 orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf answered. "I've sent him to his death."
"No," Aragorn replied. "There's still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."
"How?" Gimli asked.
"Draw out Sauron's armies," Aragorn responded. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."
"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Eomer said.
"Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."
"A diversion," Legolas said.
"Certainty of death," Gimli listed, "small chance of success: what are we waiting for?"
"Works for me," Legolas said.
"I'm definitely in," Mornie added. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow," came the answer.
On twenty-fifth of March, Morannon, the Black Gate, rose up and out before them, but all was silent.
"Where are they?" Pippin asked, sitting on Shadowfax with Gandalf. A small number of them rode forward with Aragorn. Mornie was glad to be back on Scyld again. He had returned with Arod and Brego to the Rohirrim.
"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn called. "Let justice be done upon him!"
Morannon creaked and groaned and squeaked. It opened just wide enough for one rider to come out.
"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," he grimaced, though it may have been meant to be a smile. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"
"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed," Gandalf said. "Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."
"Old Greybeard," the messenger said. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He pulled out Frodo's mithril coat and tossed it to Gandalf.
"Frodo!" Pippin exclaimed.
"Silence," Gandalf said.
"No!" Merry had not heard.
"Silence!" Gandalf ordered
"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see," the messenger grimace-smiled. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would have thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."
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