Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.
OK, so it took a long long time for me to update. But I am here now, so it's all good… right? Huge thank you to all the reviewers, followers, and favorites!
Doctor Legolas – Thank you so much! Less fluff in this chapter, but I'll try to make up for it later. Keep reading and reviewing please!
Hel daughter of Loki – You'll find out in this chapter, so please keep reading and reviewing!
Applejack456 – Hehe, well I certainly didn't update soon this time. Whoops.
HogwartsDwarfKat – Merlin reference? Well, I do greatly fear the spoon and now I shall die at the hands of a spoon… Although spoons don't have hands…. But oh well.
Iron Mikan Frost-Elric-Uzumaki – Yeah, not much Legolas-Sakura in this chapter, but I needed to get the plot rolling. Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer! I love it!
Chapter 25
"Gandalf, what do you mean?" probed Aragorn cautiously. "I sense that it is something that I shall not like judging by the look you are giving me." Gandalf winced.
"Aragorn, do you remember the stories of the Dead Men of Dunharrow?" asked the wizard quietly.
The future king did not speak for a long moment, his grey eyes stern.
"I will not, Gandalf," the Gondorian replied softly before his voice grew louder. "Oathbreakers, all of them! They can offer us no aid nor shall I accept any such help!"
By this point, Sakura was thoroughly confused.
"Legolas," she hissed. "Legolas, what are they talking about?"
The elf turned his gaze from Aragorn to the fairy at his side.
"Have you never heard the story of the Dead Men of Dunharrow before?" he asked disbelievingly. Sakura frowned at him.
"I did grow up on an entirely different continent," the princess reminded her lover.
"Me too!" piped up Mei. "I have no idea what everyone is talking about either!" Sakura briefly glowered at the healer, reminding herself to kill Mei for her antics when she had some down time before returning her eyes to settle on Legolas. The elf paused for a moment, seemingly thinking of a way to put the story into words.
"It was during the First War of the Ring, at the end of the Second Age," he began. "The Men of the Mountains, Dunlendings, had pledged allegiance to Isildur himself at the Stone of Erech, promising to aid him in battle when the time came to rise against Sauron. Yet when Isildur marched his troops against the dark forces and called for their aid, the Men of the Mountains never came. Instead, they cowered in the mountains and took no stance in the war. For their treachery, Isildur cursed them to never rest in peace until their oath was fulfilled and either himself or one of his direct heirs released them from their curse. And so they are now forever drifting in a strange state between life and death beneath the Dwimorberg Mountain, and their pain shall not end until one such as Aragorn calls upon them." The fairies and hobbits, who had instantly inched over when Legolas began the story, contemplated the tale in silence.
"But how could they help us?" wondered Sakura. "How can the Dead Men of Dunharrow aid us against Sauron? And who says they will?"
"Oh, they will," rumbled Gandalf. "For them to be stuck in such an unnatural, undead state is exhausting and painful, and they would leap at the chance to escape it."
"I side with Aragorn, I do not trust them either," muttered Boromir, his eyes darting back and forth. "The tales that I heard as a child characterize them as traitors, filthy liars. I would not rely upon the Dead in such an important task as this one."
"I agree!" inserted Aragorn. "And besides, I still do not see why we need them and how they can help with the situation of the Eagles." Gwaihir was growing visibly impatient.
"Gandalf, you explain what your plan is right now or we leave," ordered the Eagle. "I fear that something far worse than Uruks shall approach and find us soon. Against Orcs and Uruk-Hai we have the advantage of wings, but against Nazgul, the battle would be difficult." Gandalf nodded hurriedly.
"My, so hasty," he mumbled to himself. "How I do miss old Treebeard! Anyways, I suggested rousing the Dead Men in order to give us back the advantage we had when the presence of the Eagles was still unknown. If Sauron does know of the Eagles now, then he will be preparing to fend off an aerial attack. What I suggest is making a swift detour off to Dunharrow, requesting the help of the Dead Men, sending them off on their way towards Mordor for an unexpected land attack, and while Sauron is distracted, we shall fly over to Mount Doom, and drop the Ring into it."
"And then we may all return home to have a well-deserved drink!" added Merry.
"Hear, hear!" cheered Pippin at the last part. Meanwhile, the rest of the Fellowship and the Eagles were absorbing the plan that Gandalf had outlined.
"A diversion," breathed Legolas, his blue eyes lighting up with realization. Aragorn frowned deeply.
"Gandalf, I do not think that Sauron would be so foolish. What is he supposed to think, that the Dead Men of Dunharrow suddenly decided to leave their mountain and march against him all on their own? He will sniff out the diversion from miles away!" cried the heir of Isildur.
"Well see, this is the part that I did not think you would like," chuckled Gandalf nervously. Aragorn's eyes bulged.
"There's more?" he questioned incredulously.
"It is just that… to make the ruse more believable, we would need some of us to march with the Dead to make Sauron believe that the diversion could actually be a planned attack," added Gandalf. "Now, we would definitely need you, as you are the Heir of Isildur and Sauron would be searching for you. A few more of us as well as a couple Eagles could make it much more credible." Aragorn was positively foaming at the mouth.
"I will not march with those oathbreakers as if they are my allies, my kin!" he growled. "And if we go, how are we to survive? While there are possibly a thousand, perhaps two thousand of the Dead, Sauron probably has another score of his foul creatures for our every warrior! We shall all die!"
"Do not be so pessimistic, son of Arathorn," warned Gandalf. "Remember that the Dead cannot die when they were never alive to begin with, and for that reason they have the ability to kill more than any other being that we know of. Their main weapon is their ability to instill fear in all creatures, which is something that can wipe out more Orcs than any sole weapon that Man, Elf, or Dwarf has forged before."
"But – but will it not be dangerous for those of us who march with the Dead?" asked Frodo nervously. "Perhaps the Dead cannot die, but the rest of us sure can! And none of us have the power of fear! Our weapons are frying pans and -" At this, Gandalf sighed heavily and kneeled down to Frodo's level.
"Frodo Baggins, we pledged ourselves to you in Rivendell, and when we did, we lost all right to put ourselves first. You hold the future of Middle Earth in your hands, not us. We all knew the risks of taking on this quest, but we joined this Fellowship anyways. If we die, we shall move on to the Halls of Mandos hoping that our deaths were worth it, that we sacrificed ourselves so that you could destroy the Ring and so that the rest of our world could live in peace," Gandalf reminded the ringbearer. Frodo's eyes turned frenzied and frightened.
"Gandalf, are you going to march with the Dead as well?" the hobbit asked, seemingly afraid of the answer. The old wizard bowed his head.
"I have no choice," he replied. "He knows of my coming. Sauron knows that only Radagast and I could convince the Eagles to help us, and Radagast would never join such a quest."
"But Gandalf!" cried Frodo. "We have already lost you once, and you have only just returned. How can you leave us again?" The old wizard smiled humorlessly.
"Oh, someone else can amuse young hobbits with fireworks when I am gone," Gandalf answered.
"No!" countered Sam stubbornly. "No one has fireworks like you!" Ignoring Sam, Gwaihir spoke up for the first time.
"And how do we decide who accompanies the ringbearer and who marches?" queried the Windlord. "How are we to decide who gets to live and who gets to die? To answer such a question would be barbaric! I will not tell my kin that they deserve to die while others deserve to live!"
"Now, now," cried Gandalf hurriedly. "Neither group is guaranteed to live or die. We must retain hope! And besides, we should be splitting into groups later rather than now. We have dallied here for far too long, and we must move on. Night approaches quickly, and we should try to fly as far as possible in its dark cover."
"Now wait a moment!" cried Gwaihir. "We never agreed to this plan."
Gandalf blinked.
"I suppose we have not. Well then, let us hold a vote. Obviously, I desire to take the Path of the Dead. Who wishes for us to travel to Dunharrow?" he asked.
"I do!" cried Lharast eagerly. The entire time, she had seemed rather excited at the adventurous idea of meeting the Dead. "And Uncle, you cannot change my vote!"
Gwaihir sighed gustily.
"So be it, Lharast. But I vote not to go." The other six Eagles agreed rapidly with their leader, wishing to return home and to be rid of this burden.
"But Gandalf, what are our other options?" wondered Merry. The Istari's eyes darkened.
"I hope that it will not come to that, but our only other option is to walk into Mordor. I do not have a plan for how we shall evade the Eye anymore, for now he is even more watchful since he knows of an approaching attack."
Upon hearing that, Merry and Pippin quickly voted to travel to Dunharrow.
"I do not," refused Aragorn. "To trust these men is to wish death upon us all."
"I agree with Aragorn," put in Boromir. "Perhaps we cannot simply walk into Mordor, but we should sit and think a while and perhaps find another solution."
"I vote to seek the aid of the Dead," spoke Legolas. "I have no fear of the Dead Men."
"Aye! I wish to see the Dead as well!" cried Mei. "They sound terribly interesting!"
Nice to see that she has gotten over her recent fright with the battle so quickly, thought Sakura sarcastically.
"The Path of the Dead seems very risky to me," murmured Frodo. "But to walk into Mordor when Sauron has his guard up with no army, no Eagles, and no diversion would kill us all. I vote for Dunharrow."
"Where Mister Frodo goes, I do too!" chimed in Sam bravely. "I vote for the Path of the Dead." Sakura raised her head.
"I pledged myself to the ringbearer, and so I shall acquiesce with his wishes. I vote for Dunharrow as well," she spoke. And it is quite a pleasant plus that Legolas agrees with Frodo, she thought to herself, smiling softly at the elf at her side.
With Sakura's decision, the vote was brought to a tie. Only Gimli had yet to vote.
"Sounds like an unnatural place," grunted Gimli. "I do not want to go to Dunharrow, nor do I want to walk into Mordor. I think we should seek out the help of my kin in the mountains and form an army against Sauron."
"Now, now," chided Legolas. "An elf dares to go underground where a dwarf does not?" Sakura choked back her laughter as Gimli's pride visibly swelled up, his face turning purple and his chest puffing up.
"Let me finish, elf!" cried the flustered dwarf. "I meant to also say that I think the dwarves are busy doing something else, getting ready for – erm, spring cleaning and all, yes, and therefore would not be able to help us, so I think that we should go to Dunharrow." Mei grinned openly, as did Gandalf.
"So it is settled!" announced the wizard. "We travel to Dunharrow!"
Gwaihir's eyes darkened with obvious displeasure. In any other situation, he would have just left, but he knew that he could not leave without his niece.
"Fine," he rumbled. "Let us treat Lharast's wounds, and then we shall set off for the Path of the Dead under the cover of night."
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Silver Isles - March 18, 3019
The fairy patrol had finally arrived back home, yet their hearts were neither light nor were they joyful. Qing had remained silent the entire journey back, speaking only when necessary as did Seunghyun. Liwei seemed to be seriously worried about his brother, and the rest of the troop was solemn and stony faced. Sighing lightly as his feet touched down upon the ground, Seunghyun turned to Qing, speaking for the first time in several hours.
"I shall deliver a report to Queen Titania now. If you – "
"Seunghyun, please do me a favor and allow me to deliver the report," interrupted Qing, his eyes not daring to meet the healer's. "I have something I wish to discuss with the queen."
"But – " began Seunghyun, remembering the conversation that Saruman had forced Qing into.
"Please," begged Qing. "It is for the wellbeing of my sister." Seunghyun froze. Mei? He would do anything for Mei, anything. And he knew that Qing would as well. Perhaps, just this one time.
"For Mei?" repeated Seunghyun brokenly.
"Yes," pressed Qing.
"But – "
"Think of Mei," reminded Qing. He felt guilty taking advantage of the healer's affection for his sister which was so obvious, but he had no other choice. "It is just one report, anyways, Seunghyun."
In his heart, Seunghyun knew that this was not just any old report, but as he remembered how kindly Qing had treated him on the trip to Middle Earth, how much like an older brother the warrior had been, he could not help but to agree.
"I suppose," muttered the healer. Qing did not leap with joy nor did his eyes brighten. Instead, his shoulders sagged as if those two words had been a death sentence. And to him, they were. Now, he would have to go lie to his queen, the queen who had ruled over him for millennia. Yet he had no choice.
"Thank you, Seunghyun," got out Qing before he turned and trudged up the path towards the palace. Curse this day that love is used as a weapon. It should never have come to this.
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"Milady?" came a voice from the door.
Titania stirred from the comfortable chair she had been sitting upon with her husband.
"Seunghyun?" she asked. "Have you returned?"
At those words, Oberon jumped and turned towards the door. Finally! That boy had always been intelligent; maybe he found something that would convince Titania that Saruman was not to be underestimated.
"No," came a deep voice. "Well, I suppose yes. Yes, Seunghyun has returned, but I am not he." A maid quickly opened the door, and Qing stepped into the room.
"Qing," repeated Titania, surprised. "I was not expecting you."
"I am afraid that Seunghyun was terribly tired and wished to retire early," lied Qing. "I offered to make the report in his stead."
"Poor boy," agreed the queen fondly. "Long trips are terribly grueling. Now, please tell me about Middle Earth."
"Well actually, milady," started Qing nervously. "I wanted to ask you a question first."
"Yes?" asked Oberon eagerly, leaning forwards. The warrior started at his king's animated countenance.
"Wh - Why did you send my sister off to Middle Earth when she has never been in a battle before?"
Titania and Oberon blinked simultaneously.
"Well, I suppose it is because I could tell that Mei would never be satisfied staying in the Silver Isles during this entire war," replied Titania slowly. "The moment she heard about the discovery of the Ring, she was already itching to get out of the country. Besides, Prince Legolas did need someone to take him back to Middle Earth."
Qing's heart burned. Titania had sent his baby sister to another continent to fight a foreign war when she had no battle experience whatsoever because Mei wanted to travel? How could she sound so nonchalant? For all they knew, Mei could be dead on some battlefield right now!
"But, my queen, what if Mei gets injured? She has never been in a battle before!" cried Qing, struggling to keep his voice polite.
"Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that Mei will get injured, if she is not already," waved away Titania casually. "But it shall do her good. It will teach her things that our tutors here in the Silver Isles never could. It will change her."
Now Qing was seeing red. She knew that Mei was going to get hurt and she did not care?
Meanwhile, Oberon winced. He could see that his wife was not making Qing feel much better.
"Qing, I am sorry to interrupt you, but it is imperative that we know: was there anything unusual happening in Isengard? Anything that may threaten the Silver Isles?" he asked intensely, studying his subject seriously. Qing paused, and for a moment Oberon spotted overwhelming hate in his eyes; whether Qing was directing it towards himself or Titania, Oberon did not know.
"Qing?" asked Titania curiously. The warrior flinched before answering.
"No. We found nothing out of the ordinary in Isengard."
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Qing walked out of the palace with his head down and his hands jammed into the pockets of his tunic. You lied to your queen, snarled a voice inside of his head. That itself is considered treason, let alone what you are planning. Another voice spoke up, embedded deep in his brain.
But Mei! Poor, sweet Mei. She has never even been out of the country, let alone involved in a foreign war against Sauron himself! She may never come back again, and Titania does not even care! He seemed to be subconsciously listening to the latter voice as his feet took him upon a path that he had not treaded in decades.
Past the grove of cherry trees, down near the river, then curving up past the rice paddies and into the dark-tufted leaves of the thicker trees he marched until he reached a familiar crimson house. Am I really doing this? he asked himself. His fist raised itself to the door and knocked loudly, seemingly of its own accord. Please do not be home, Qing begged silently. Please –
The door opened.
"Qing!" cried a boisterous voice. "Why, it has been a while!"
Qing cringed and forced a smile onto his face, still feeling sickened.
"Hello, Dong Ming." The dark-haired fairy before him grinned crookedly. An old childhood friend of Qing's, Cho Dong Ming had grown up in the house next to Qing. Their fathers had both been warriors of the army, and the two boys had often played together, occasionally allowing Qing's "annoying younger siblings", or Liwei and Mei, to mock battle with them. Dong Ming's father had been a very old fairy, one more ancient than even Titania herself. He had seen the light of the Two Trees himself when he was younger, and he often reminisced upon the beauty and purity of Valinor to his children as bedtime stories. He had been a gruff fairy, not exactly one to heap affection upon his children, and had drowned in a storm when Dong Ming was still very young, leaving the feyling only with memories of his wondrous tales of Valinor.
As Dong Ming grew older, he continued to dream of Valinor, sometimes reciting his father's stories to his younger siblings whom no longer remembered them. Dong Ming's mother had found her son's passion for Valinor slightly disturbing, but dismissed it as she did not want to take away the last remnants of his father from him. She had remarried another male, but it had been merely so that her younger feylings could have a father figure, not for love.
Yet Qing had worried about his friend. Dong Ming's love for Valinor had not just been a phase; it was a disease. The fairy had constantly talked about how the royal family should have been overthrown because of their mistake in separating Valinor and the Silver Isles. When Qing had reported this to his mother, she had immediately forbidden him to socialize with Dong Ming.
Qing remembered his anger and refusal to accept his mother's decision. He had thought himself fully matured and able to make his own decisions, and he had deemed Dong Ming in need of help rather than abandonment. To this day, Qing still held to his opinion. Dong Ming's determination to overthrow the royal family was a twisted childish fantasy; the fairy was rash and prone to think that his actions were in the name of honor, that history would vindicate his name. Dong Ming desperately needed someone to kick him out of his fantasy.
"Well, what are you doing here, old friend? I have not seen you in what seems like an eternity!" roared Dong Ming genially, ushering Qing into his house cheerfully. "Come in, sit down!"
Qing smiled before he could stop himself. It had been so long since he had talked to the fairy, and Dong Ming really was an entertaining friend to have. Stepping in through the doorway, the warrior glanced around. It seemed as if nothing had changed in the Cho household. The same fireplace filled the room with a hearty glow, the same plush chairs they had jumped upon as feylings still stood in the same corner, and the same stools they had stood upon as punishment glistened at him, flooding his mind with the careless memories of childhood.
"Everyone, Qing is here!" yelled Dong Ming. Delighted screeches echoed in the house as Dong Ming's siblings swept into the room, overwhelming the poor fairy with greetings and questions. "Leave the fairy alone!" chuckled Dong Ming, guiding Qing over to one of the two chairs by the hearth and away from the crowd of feylings. "I swear they have been worse since Mother died," he confided to his friend. Qing sent Dong Ming an alarmed glance.
"Died? How?" The other fairy frowned lightly.
"Mother's second husband died. Maybe she never loved him like she loved Father, but it still broke her heart. Now that I am old enough to take care of my siblings, I think Mother figured that she was tired of taking care of all of us and went to join Father. Jumped into the sea, she did. We never found her body. I bet that she would never have done that if we were in Valinor," muttered Dong Ming bitterly. "She would have recovered from losing Father if we were in the Undying Lands. She would still be here with us."
"Ooh! The Undying Lands!" squealed one of Dong Ming's half siblings. "Dong Ming, tell us another one of the stories that your father used to tell you!" Qing winced. It seemed that his friend's obsession was shared by Dong Ming's impressionable siblings.
"Not right now," dismissed Dong Ming. "Now all of you run along. There is no sense in wasting a perfectly good day listening to us grownups talk."
The feylings did not move and only stared up at him piteously.
"I meant it, move along!" warned Dong Ming.
"But Qing is here!" they cried. "We have not seen him in such a long time!"
"I will only count to three," informed Dong Ming strictly. "One."
The feylings immediately scattered and Qing chuckled.
"You have turned into quite the mother hen now, Dong Ming." His friend pulled a face at him.
"Now never mind them. What did you want to talk about? And do not tell me nothing, for you never come to visit me just for leisure," commented Dong Ming, his curious brown eyes boring into a guilty Qing.
"Well there was something I wished to discuss," started Qing nervously. "You know that I have only just returned from a trip to the Far West, do you not?"
"So that is where you rushed off to," realized Dong Ming. "I am ever so envious! I have never been there, and long have I wished to see this other world."
"Honestly I did not see too much of it," admitted Qing. "I was charged with visiting Isengard where the corrupt White Wizard, Saruman, resides."
Dong Ming leaned forward eagerly, the curious look in his eyes growing.
"Queen Titania ordered Seunghyun to take a party of fairies, including me, to Isengard to investigate what Saruman has been up to. Truthfully, she does not think that he is a real threat and only wished to put her husband's fears at rest. Yet – " Here Qing faltered, knowing that if he continued, there was no going back. He would forever be a traitor to his own queen.
"Yes?" asked Dong Ming anxiously. "Continue! You cannot just leave me like that, friend!" Qing stared into the fire at their side. It reminded him so much of the fire in Mei's eyes, the fire that had warmed his heart and lit up his day whenever she was around. He had to do it, for Mei, so that her fire could endure. Or if her fire had already been extinguished, he was avenging her death.
"Yet Saruman is a threat," continued Qing flatly. "He called the patrol down, he saw us, and somehow he knew of the existence of fairies. I know not how he found out. While I was there, he made me an offer. He said that if I or any other fairy would guide his troops here to the Silver Isles, in exchange he would somehow send whoever helped him to Valinor."
"Valinor!" cried Dong Ming. "Valinor! Oh Qing, please tell me you accepted, please please please!" His eyes were alight with joy and excitement. "The Valar have heard my prayers!" Qing winced. The Valar have forsaken us, he thought to himself. They banned us from Valinor for a reason.
"Dong Ming, I myself have not agreed nor have I refused. I told him I would think about it and tell you and any other interested fairies about this… opportunity."
"Well of course I shall do it!" breathed Dong Ming. "Do you not see, Qing? The wizard offers us a path, a path away from Titania's oppression, a path to revolution!"
"Revolution?!" cried Qing in alarm. "No revolution!"
"Qing, that is exactly what you suggest. If we lead Saruman's troops here, they will decimate Titania. Is that not a revolution?" pointed out Dong Ming. Qing shuddered. How had things gotten this bad? A revolution? "Now I am sure that some of my siblings are mature enough to handle this as well, and we could all help. Maybe Saruman would see the loyalty of my family and then we could all go to Valinor!" continued Dong Ming. "But what I am still unsure about is how we can help. How would we lead the dark troops through the air? The only way from the Far West to the Silver Isles is to fly towards the moon."
"Saruman has bred beasts," answered Qing. "Fell beasts, the ones that Sauron's Ringwraiths ride upon. The wizard has trained Orcs and Uruks to ride upon their backs. The only problem is that without a fairy's inbred knowledge of the location of the moon, the beasts would easily get lost, thus the need for a guide. He wishes us to return to Isengard within the month."
"Perfect!" cried Dong Ming. "Friend, we have been offered a salvation!"
Qing felt sick at the clear joy in his friend's countenance. How had this love for Valinor festered so much? How could Dong Ming look so happy at the thought of the demise of his people?
"Now why the long face?" asked the jubilant fairy. "We are going to Valinor, friend!" Qing shook his head vehemently.
"No, not I, old friend. Just you. I – I have done enough for this cause." In truth, Qing already wanted to retch now that he had told Dong Ming and unleashed the monster. He had done this for revenge against Titania, to punish her for making his little sister suffer, for letting her leave when she knew next to nothing about battle. But now, he did not know what to think. He had betrayed his people, his king, his queen, and in a way, he had betrayed Mei as well, for if she was to survive the war, she would come home, expecting the warm safety of the Silver Isles and instead finding desolation and death.
"Well that is too bad," replied Dong Ming, looking genuinely sorry. "But if you do not mind friend, I must go about making arrangements right away! If I am to make it to Middle Earth in a month and try to convince this wizard to allow my entire family entrance into Valinor, I must get busy!" Qing nodded dumbly.
"I – I should probably leave now anyways. I am tired from the journey," he mumbled as he headed towards the door.
"But truly, Qing. Thank you," said Dong Ming earnestly. "You have saved us all." With that and a brotherly hug, he shut the door. Qing groaned and slumped to the ground, his head cradled in his hands.
What have I done?
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