Well, here it is! It took me a good deal longer to get this chapter finished and posted than I thought it would, so I apologize for keeping everyone in the lurch for so long. I was so wedded to the idea of six chapters per book that I was trying to force far too many events into one short chapter and it was kicking my ass. Eventually I decided to split this entire chapter into two, which means that there is one more chapter to go now before Book Two is finished. I'll try to get it up as soon as I can, I promise! :D

I hope this chapter does go some way to answering a few of the questions I've been asked recently. I've looked to the book in describing the journey to Mordor and much of the scene in front of the Black Gate. Faramir has also been given some of Gandalf's original dialogue as I felt that it suited him best.

XXX

The bells of day had scarcely rung out when Legolas stirred. He was surprised to find Pippin standing alone upon the balcony gazing eastward. He had his cloak cast about him against the early morning chill. He seemed very small as he stood framed against the distant gloom of the Ephel Dúath, thoughtful and silent.

Legolas rose from his bed and came to stand beside the hobbit. For a time Pippin did not speak, rousing only to lean forward and rest his folded arms upon the balcony. He stood barely a head above the stone sill.

"Mordor always seemed so far away," Pippin said quietly. "Often I thought it something Aragorn had dreamt up back in Bree in order to scare me stiff. Now I wish that I had been right. I do not like the look of it at all."

Legolas smiled.

"Long have the people of Gondor lived under the shadow of Mordor," he said. "I have never journeyed this far South in all my years. Great must have been its glory in the days of its rising."

Pippin nodded as he pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Legolas saw that he was still wearing his traveling clothes beneath. It occurred to him that both he and Merry would need some proper armour before they rode out to battle that day.

"Have you slept?" said Legolas.

"A little," Pippin said, "but I'm afraid it did not do me much good. I kept having dreams about invading armies and riders robed in black." Pippin turned to Legolas. "Do elves ever dream? I do not think I have ever seen you sleep."

"I can sleep," said Legolas, "if it may be called as such by Men. My mind rests in the strange paths of elvish dreams even as I walk open-eyed in the living world. But I admit that such thoughts have also been troubling me."

As they watched a small bird winged across the brightening sky and alighted upon the nearby bell tower. Not since they had travelled through the land of Rohan had they heard the sound of birdsong. It seemed a strange thing in that city of stone.

"I wish we could visit Sam," said Pippin.

"As do I," said Legolas. "I do not like the idea of leaving him here alone any more than you do. But I secreted a message to him last night. He knows of our plans."

"You did?" said Pippin eagerly. "Did you receive a reply? What did he say?"

"I am assured he is being treated well," said Legolas. "Sam also said that he is sorry for the trouble he caused us, but that he had made a promise to Gandalf he intended to keep. We need not worry for now. Sam shall be a great deal safer here in Minas Tirith. The Steward is too busy waging war to pass sentence on his prisoners."

"I am glad to hear that," said Pippin. And he did not say anything more as they both gazed out across the waking City, watching the rising sun as it smote the top of the bell tower.

XXX

The forges had been busy all night. Their fires sank with the coming of day. In a few short hours the streets of Minas Tirith were lined with people. All were eager to watch as the army of Gondor departed the City. Legolas wondered at the size of the host which now assembled on the Pelennor. Three thousand men seemed to him naught but a scouting party barely suited to a rout of some border stronghold. It certainly stood no chance against the full might of Mordor.

Regardless the men rode the streets in their finery. Many bore standards emblazoned with the White Tree and a field of stars. The people of Gondor crowded the walls and doorways to catch a glimpse as they passed. Here and there Legolas caught a grim face amongst the jubilant masses. The older women threw flowers at the feet of the horses. Some at least did not seem so taken with the proclamations of the heralds.

Denethor rode at the head of this host. No longer did he seem but an old man. He wore a long black cloak and was clad in mail beneath, girt with a long sword in a hilt of black and silver. The Ring hung from a golden chain about his neck for all to see. So it was that he wished to wield the weapon of the Enemy for himself. Such was his blind arrogance and courage. His sons flanked him upon either side. Their reunion had taken place behind closed doors earlier that day.

Legolas and Gimli stood ready near the Great Gate as the host departed. They were to ride again together upon the horses Éomer had lent them; Aldor they left to be housed in the stables of the Citadel. The hobbits had left with Beregond a little earlier to visit the Old Guesthouse on Rath Celerdain, the Lampwrights' Street.

"I wonder what Boromir has told his brother of the Ring?" said Gimli.

"Perhaps not much," Legolas said. "But he must have guessed something of its nature. I think Faramir understands that events are now beyond his control. He cannot stand against his father in this. Nobody can."

It was not long before Merry and Pippin returned. They were clad now in hauberks of black and silver, although they wore their old clothes beneath this. At their belts hung a small sword and each wore a silver helm set with small raven-wings. They wore still the grey cloaks of Lórien and their elven knives. They looked very proud in their mismatched attire.

"We met Beregond's son," explained Merry. "He is named Bergil. He lent us what little armour he has. It was made especially in the armouries of the Citadel. Beregond found also a hauberk for me with shorter sleeves than most."

Since he had been at the Gate the day before Beregond knew that the hobbits had not been involved in Sam's attack on Boromir. He was the only man in the City who did not send them troubled glances as they prepared to move out with the army. Legolas had been very glad to hear that Beregond was not to ride out with them that day. Denethor had at least the sense to leave a contingent of men behind to guard the City. He just hoped that they would not be needed as a last defence.

XXX

So it was that the last remaining members of the Company spurred their horses and joined the army of Gondor as it departed the City. The host moved swiftly despite its size. What it was which drove them on in such a fashion Legolas could not tell. Around half of the army was mounted whilst the remainder went on foot. The morning sun glinted upon spear and helm and sword alike as the host passed down the great road to the Causeway.

Ere noon they came to Osgiliath. The ruined walls and towers of the city bore the marks of fierce fighting. A small garrison of men was busy strengthening the abandoned ferries and boat-bridges, gathering stores and building hasty works of defence. The host halted for a time to gather news of the stricken outpost. It seemed that the Enemy had abandoned their siege of the city during the night, much to the amazement of the men who defended it. This news did not bring Faramir much comfort.

"It is but a feint," he said. "This was no victory. The Enemy is amassing its forces elsewhere."

"Let them flee!" said Denethor. "They shall find no refuge from the might of Gondor."

The host passed now through the ruins of Old Gondor, using the devices of the Enemy to cross over the River beyond and start up the long road which led to the Crossroads. Five miles march from Osgiliath they halted for the day. The horsemen pressed on to reach the Crossroads ere evening descended.

Beside a stony grey bank the road wound about the outer slopes of the mountains before it plunged into a dark belt of trees. Their distant tops were gaunt and broken, as if they had been struck by a recent lightning-blast. Legolas marveled at the ancient trees as they towered high and opened in a roofless ring out onto the gloomy sky. Four roads diverged here in the shadow of the Ephel Dúath.

The horses whinnied or shied in unease as they emerged into the clearing. Legolas leant down and patted Arod reassuringly upon the neck, murmuring soft words of elvish. In the very centre where the four ways met there rose a huge stone figure sat still and solemn in a mighty chair. The head was gone and in its place a rough-hewn stone had been placed. Upon it was painted a grinning face with a large red eye in the midst of its forehead.

The sinking sun cast a brief glow upon that great stone king. Before the light had wholly faded Denethor ordered the orc-head be cast down and the old king's head raised in its place where it had fallen by the roadside. Men laboured to clean the foul scrawlings that the servants of Mordor had left upon the stone as black night fell.

When the rest of the host joined them at dawn they continued their long march along that northward road. Denethor sent scouts ahead and let the trumpets blow at times to signal their coming. No sign of the enemy did they see. The hearts of men were downcast as the days and their journey slowly wore away. None save Legolas saw that the Nazgûl flew abroad high and out of sight; and yet the men felt a dread presence which could not be shaken as they advanced into the gloom of Mordor.

XXX

On the third day the host came at last to the barren outlands around the Pass of Cirith Gorgor. Before them the distant marshes and desert stretched towards the jagged teeth of the Emyn Muil to the north and west. They walked like men in a hideous dream made true in those dark and desolate places. It was only their love for the Steward and his sons which held them firm to their road. They advanced slowly and drew together as one, forsaking the need for scouts as they approached the land of Mordor. Still there came no answer to their challenge.

At nightfall they made their camp in this empty landscape. Fires were built using such dead wood and heath as they could find. The world grew dark about them as they listened to the howling of wolves and the comings and goings of unseen things prowling in the wild. Little could be seen beyond the fires set about the camp. The night was alive with watchfulness.

A soup was passed around to the hungry men. The Company sat together at a smaller fire eating their own provisions. Their lembas had proven its worth over their long journey and kept well. None voiced the thought that there might not be a return journey for which to save it.

After they had eaten Legolas sat alone before their small fire, applying wax to his bow string. Gimli had left to fetch some more wood. The hobbits were asleep. Legolas paused and drew his elven cloak over the two when he noticed their shivering. As he returned to his work he saw a dark squat thing, perhaps a wolf, approach the ring of firelight. Upon seeing the multitude of soldiers bristling with weapons it quickly retreated back into the night.

After a time Legolas became aware that someone was watching him. He glanced up to see Boromir looking out across the crowd of soldiers. The firelight played across his weary face. Legolas thought for a moment that he might come over to speak with them. He seemed deep in thought.

Shortly a soldier called Boromir's name and asked for a toast. The moment passed. Boromir turned away and returned to his men. A cold wind picked up and stirred the flames of their small campfire as Gimli returned with some dead wood.

"Do you believe in his innocence?" he said to Legolas as he sat down again.

They both watched as Boromir gave his toast. The horror that had once lain deep upon the men seemed to lift at his stirring words of victory. He raised his goblet of ale to the strength and glory of Gondor. Men clashed their weapons and their voices rang out in cheer. Faramir stood watching all. His expression could not be seen.

"I do," Legolas said after a moment. "But it matters not. Boromir has made his choice. I fear it may be too late to change his fate in this matter."

Men drank deep in answer to this toast. Faramir took the chance to weave his way through the gathering and speak words to Boromir that neither Legolas nor Gimli could hear. This exchange provoked laughter in both. They watched as the brothers embraced warmly as those who have not seen each other in many a day. It was not long before they joined the men in celebration of a victory not yet won.

"It may be too late for all of us," said Gimli, throwing another faggot of wood onto the fire.

XXX

The next day dawned grey and forbidding. Shrouded in the mists of Mordor the host made ready and set out again. Men spoke little. The cheer of the night had wholly gone. To the north they passed the great hills of rock and slag vomited forth by the maggot-folk of Mordor; to the south rose the rampart of Cirith Gorgor and the Black Gate amidmost, guarded by the two Towers of the Teeth upon either side.

The host as it travelled turned from the road as it bent away to the east, and so they approached the Morannon from the north-west and avoided the peril of the lurking hills. The frowning arch of the Black Gate loomed before them, its two vast iron doors fast closed beneath the silent battlements. The sight gave men pause as they stood forlorn and chill in the shadow of that dreaded pass. They knew that the hills and rocks of the Morannon were filled with hidden foes.

Soon they came within cry of the Morannon. The heralds stood out and unfurled their banner and let blow the trumpets in challenge over the battlement of Mordor.

"Come forth!" they cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! The Steward of Gondor demands justice against the destroyer of his people. Come forth!"

Denethor rode to the Gate with his sons close behind. Legolas went with them. It was Faramir who had bidden his father let the elf and his dwarven companion ride out as witness so that all of the enemies of Mordor might be represented. Only at Boromir's insistence had this request been granted. Neither of the hobbits was extended the same honour. Thus Gimli had stayed behind with the rest of the host. Merry and Pippin stood with him beside their horses, their cloaks bundled close. They looked with fear upon the dark towers and walls looming ahead.

At first there sounded no answer. Then the braying horns rose and drums rolled. The door of the Black Gate was opened with a great clang. Out of the land of Mordor came an embassy from the Dark Tower. At its head rode a tall and evil shape mounted upon a black horse. This was the Mouth of Sauron, and if he had once possessed a name than he had himself long forgotten it. He was robed all in black and black was his lofty helm. His face could not be seen.

The rider came forward with a small company dressed in black, and they bore with them a black banner bearing in red the Evil Eye. The host halted a few paces from the Captains of Gondor.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron," the rider said. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

"I did not come to parley with a mere beggar," said Denethor. "Let your Lord come forth, if he dares! He shall answer to Gondor for his crimes."

But the Messenger of Sauron merely answered: "Nay. Do not think the Dark Lord a fool! I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee - to thee in especial, if thou shouldst dare to stand here in defiance." He gestured and one of his guards came forward bearing a small bundle swaddled in black cloths.

The Messenger took this bundle and cast aside its coverings. Pippin strained to see what was happening. There to the wonder and dismay of the host the Messenger held up first a grey cloak and then a white pendant like a star which hung upon a silver chain. It glinted as it caught the sun now climbing towards the South, gleaming a sullen red as it hung veiled in the reeks of Mordor. A small gasp escaped Pippin at the sight.

"These belonged to Aragorn," Boromir said. His face was grey with horror.

"I see that you recognize these tokens!" the Messenger said. "It would be vain for you to deny them now. A piece of elvish glass, an elf-cloak – and that is not all. But it was no elf that bore these tokens. A man he was, tall and proud, though there was an elvish look about him which perhaps he hoped to disguise."

Merry and Gimli said naught. They seemed unable to speak. Legolas leapt forward with a cry of grief.

"Enough!" cried Denethor. His eyes flashed dangerously in the elf's direction. Faramir put out a hand to keep Legolas back. "Word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Denethor said. He looked first at Boromir and then back at the Messenger of Mordor, betraying naught in his expression. "I had hoped them to be mistaken."

"He led our Company," said Legolas. His voice was steady, but those nearby saw the anguish in his face. "He journeyed with us as far as the Argonath."

"He was your leader?" said Faramir in astonishment.

"For a time," Boromir said. "But he disappeared in the night and did not return to us. We knew not his fate."

The Messenger observed this exchange and he laughed, for it seemed to him that his sport went well.

"Good, good!" he said. "He was dear to you, I see. And now he shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive, and never be released, unless maybe when he is changed and broken, so that he may fall to his knees and swear fealty to the Dark Lord before the masses."

"You say then that he still lives?" said Legolas. Hope leapt within his heart.

"Lesser men have broken within hours," said the Messenger. "But do not be troubled. A simple exchange will suffice to put an end to his torment, and what his fate shall be depends now on your choice. We ask only for a small trinket, a ring, in exchange for this prisoner."

A blackness came upon the host at these words, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that the world stood still. But Denethor saw the horror in their eyes and guessed their thoughts, and growing angry he drew his sword.

"This is madness!" he cried. "What honour is to be left in that line? I will not bow to this ranger from the north, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship!"

"Not entirely bereft," said Faramir, and he took the Messenger's eye and held it. "But this is much to demand for the delivery of one servant: that your Master should receive in exchange what he must else fight many a war to gain! And what surety have we that your Master will keep his part? Where is this prisoner? Let him be brought forth and yielded to us, and then we will consider these demands."

"Do not bandy words in your insolence!" cried the Messenger. "Surety you crave! Sauron gives none. The prisoner shall remain in Barad-dûr until his bidding is done. You may give this ring to me or you may walk into Mordor and deliver it to Sauron the Great himself. Then he shall consider releasing his prisoner. These are his terms. Take them or leave them!"

"These terms are an insult," said Boromir. He cast aside his cloak and drew his own sword. "We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron. I would advise you to stand down now, lest my blade meet your throat."

The other quailed and gave back. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!" he cried.

"Then I advise you to find the safety of the Gate, herald," said Boromir. "I shall respect the rules of diplomacy, but my companions may not be so obliging. As for your terms, we reject them utterly. Your embassy is over and death is near to you and your Master. Now begone!"

And the Mouth of Sauron looked upon the fell face and deadly eyes of Boromir, and back to the host of Gondor. Fear soon overcame his wrath. He dropped the bundle and then turned and with his company galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor.