Oh, hello there. So, my group for my English assignment has decided to meet tomorrow at the library! So I won't have time to post tomorrow, so YAY CHAPTER IS A DAY EARLY! By the way, I started a fan page on Facebook. It's a Harry Potter one, but I think I'll do a LOTR one soon. It's called Budleigh Babberton. Please go like it! My admin name is Pomfrey! 3

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We rode for a few hours, hardly stopping to rest or eat. When we arrived at the encampment of Dunharrow, many soldiers greeted Théoden king, and he asked them how many warriors had travelled from their villages.

At the edge of the camp, I dismounted Celfled, leading her through the camp, so I wouldn't startle her or the other horses. I looked around, and saw tents pitched over many acres of land. At the other end of the camp, a tall mountain loomed over us.

As the day grew later, I noticed that many men were having trouble controlling their horses. Even Celfled, who was normally well behaved, paced back and forth on her feet, occasionally glancing up at the mountain.

I saw Legolas and Gimli pass by, and quickly soothing Celfled, I hurried over to them. "Gimli?"

"Lassie." His tone was short and quick, and he seemed tense.

As Éomer walked past, Legolas grabbed his arm. "The horses are restless, and the men quiet." He stated this, but it was meant as a question.

"They grow restless in the shadow of the mountain," Éomer said, his dark eyes darting around, as if he was afraid of being overhead. He nodded to the mountain, and we all turned towards it.

There was a small passage between the rocks, shrouded with mist and condensation. I was captured by it, and when Gimli asked, "That road there...where does it lead?" I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Éomer pursed his lips.

"That is the road to the Dimholt," Legolas whispered, his voice echoing in my ears. "The door under the mountain."

"None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil," Éomer said quietly. He shot a glare at the mountain before turning his back on it and walking away quickly.

I turned to the road, coldness creeping up from my toes. I gave a shudder, as I stared at it intently. I looked very closely, squinting my eyes. Everything about it seemed to draw me in, tempt me...

Something moved in the passageway.

I gasped, clapping my hands over my mouth, and when Legolas' hand clamped down on my arm, I gave a loud scream. "Oh, my god!"

"Sorry! Gimli is hungry. He wants to find food. Come." He led me away from the mountain, but I turned back to it one last time.

Ella.

I was restless that night, sitting by the fires of the encampment. I stared down into the burning wood, holding out my hands for warmth. I could hear the footsteps of the Rohirrim, preparing for battle the next day.

Grass rustled beside me, and I turned to Gimli, who held out a plate of food. "Here. Y'look like you could use it, lass."

"Thank you," I said quietly, taking the plate from him. I picked up a piece of meat, put it into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "G—Gimli?"

"Aye, lassie?"

"I—I'm worried about M—Merry..." I said. I knew that I should be worried about myself, mostly because I had just gotten the hang of keeping a sword upright. But compassion for the little Hobbit compelled me to ask.

"Me too. Master Merry hardly looks like he can hold his own, hmm?" He chuckled and lit his pipe. "I'm sure he'll be fine, missie. He's come this far." He laughed again and stood. "I'm turning in. You should too."

"Y—Yes. I w—will. Thank you, Gimli." I watched him amble away, a little wobbly. Ah, the wonders of ale.

I stood up slowly, and balanced on the balls of my feet, stretching out. When I returned to my original height, I walked to my tent. I pulled off my boots and pulled back the covers of my cot.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I looked at the flaps of the tent that led to the outside. They were closed, but they fluttered in the breeze, sending a coolness through the enclosed area.

Ever since I had knew of the mountain...chills had been running up my spine, sending shivers through me. I glanced warily at the door. "D—Don't..." I whispered, my lips pushing together, sticking. I wet them with my tongue.

I lowered my body down onto the bed, my hands gripping the sheets. It's your imagination, Ella. Stop scaring yourself. Go to bed. Sleep. Sleep...

My eyes were heavy, and they started to close, despite my fears. It's all right. There are men guarding the perimeter. Sleep. Sleep…sleep…

I closed my eyes.

I sat up, my heart beating so fast I thought it would break my skin and dance across the floor. Shallow pants came from my chest, and I was whimpering. I couldn't remember what had scared me so badly, and I looked around. From the darkness around me, it was in the middle of the night.

I sighed shakily, placing my head between my knees, taking deep breaths. The only thing I could remember was a sword...and then it was gone again. I lay back down, still trembling. I knew I wasn't going to sleep like this, so I rose, and pulled on my boots. I strapped my sword to me and tucked my dagger into my shoe.

Ambling out of the tent, I looked up at the sky. It was starry and bright. Stars...were so far away. Did they ever get lonely? Separated from the rest of the universe? Cut off from everything that they could have known?

A sigh escaped my lips.

"You sound light of heart, Ella." The tone was sarcastic, but cheerful at the same time. When I turned, I saw Legolas standing behind me. He, too, was armed. "You could not sleep?"

I shook my head. "A—And you?"

"I slept for a spell, but then..." He shrugged ever so slightly. "I am worried about Aragorn."

I looked at him quickly, surprised by the sudden change of topic. "W—Why do you s—say that? I—I mean, he c—can handle h—himself, right?"

"I know. It is...strange, however. He seems quieter than usual...like something is worrying him," he mused, glancing up at the sparkling heavens. "It is like he knows that something, I don't know what, though, but he has a sense that he'll have to come to terms with something." Legolas sighed heavily, just as I had a few minutes ago.

"I—I'm sure whatever it is...he—he'll be f—fine," I murmured, rocking back and forth on the heels of my feet. I reached down, took his hand. I gave it a quick squeeze, smiling up at him.

"Thank you, Ella."

"Elf! Lass!"

Could he never call us by our real names? I had a name!

"Gimli. What is it?" Legolas asked, letting go of my hand. "What goes on?"

"It's Aragorn. He's packing to go."

"G—Go? Go where?!" I gasped. "He c—can't! Not without u—us!"

"Exactly," Gimli said, grinning.

It didn't take long for Aragorn to pass by. We were already waiting for him at the edge of the camp, and when Gimli saw the Ranger, he stood. "And just where do you think you're off to?"

"Not this time. This time you must stay, Gimli," Aragorn chided in his soft voice.

Gimli just hummed lightly, and I folded my arms across my chest as Legolas walked up on the other side of Aragorn, holding the reins of Arod.

He smiled his familiar smirk. "Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?"

"You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie!"

I smiled, nodding my head to show him there was no way he was going without us behind him. When he smiled, I grinned again, and tried to mount Celfled. She was prancing around happily, as if she had just had a carrot or a very good sleep.

"Celfled! Girl!" I muttered to her, but she didn't stop. "Celfled!" I said again, a little sharper this time.

She stopped immediately, a look of annoyance in her eyes. When she was finally still, I mounted her, patting her on the back. "Sorry, girl. But this is important." I nodded to Aragorn, and he led us to the Dimholt.

"Lord Aragorn!" I heard, before the mist shrouded the camps from view.

We spent the night travelling up the mountain. The next morning was cloudy and grey, and no sign of the sun appeared. Just after dawn, it grew cold and I shivered, my breath coming out in white puffs.

The mountain pass was barren, but it was not a shock. Some nubby bushes lined the rocky path that we travelled on, and the faces of white rock rose high into the clouds, so high that I couldn't see the top. It was rather desolate.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" Gimli whispered.

"One that is cursed," Legolas replied. "Long ago, the men of the mountain swore an oath to the King of Gondor. To come to his aid. To fight. But when the time came...when Gondor's need was dire...they fled. Vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them...never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge.

"Who shall call them from the Grey Twilight...the Forgotten People? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come...need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead..."

What he recited made chills creep up my arms, and I looked over at Aragorn. He seemed rather disturbed, and what disturbed Aragorn would always be bad for us. I pursed my lips.

Finally, we came to the entrance of a tunnel, lined by trees. As I looked up, a few leaves fell from the branches of the trees. One caught in my hair, and I plucked it out. The wind picked up, and I shivered again. Celfled seemed uneasy, and I slid off her, patting her head gently.

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away," Gimli whispered.

The square entrance to the tunnel had symbols engraved in the grey, weathered stone. It was unfamiliar, and I didn't know what they said. Legolas quickly translated.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead...and the dead keep it," he said, his eyes quickly scanning the rough symbols. "The way is shut."

As his voice faded away, a rush of air blew through the path, and the horses, spooked, reared and screamed, turning away and galloping down the way we came. They disappeared, even as we yelled their names.

I turned to Aragorn, waiting for orders—should we go back, wait?

Aragorn turned on his heel, a determined look on his face and a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I do not fear death!" He walked through the entrance, as more wind blew, but not as hard as the previous.

Legolas, without any hesitation, followed his friend into the Paths of the Dead. When he disappeared into the darkness, Gimli gave a shout. "Well, this is unheard of! An Elf will go underground, while a Dwarf dare not...oh, I'd never hear the end of it!" He ran after his friends, and I stood there awkwardly.

I didn't know what to do. I could venture into a tomb with three well armed fighters, or stay out here...alone... I stepped forward, looking behind me, then went into the darkness. The tunnel only went in one direction, and I found my companions quickly.

Mist crept up my legs, curling around me and I swatted it away, a tingling sensation running up my spine. The mist was too animated for my comfort, and I glanced at my comrades to see if they felt the same way.

Gimli was trying to blow the mist away, and Legolas and Aragorn looked uneasy, but they kept moving.

Legolas was looking around the tunnels, his eyes wondrous.

"What is it? What do you see?" Gimli whispered. Even though his initial voice was quiet, it echoed in the passageway, and I felt the vibrations of his voice bounce off the walls and slip into my ears.

"I see shapes of men…and of horses," Legolas murmured. "Pale banners like shred of cloud. Spears rise like winter thickets through a shroud of mist. The dead are following." He stopped suddenly, looking around. "They have been summoned!" He placed a hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward and out of the mist.

As we turned the corner, the mist turned into prying hands, clawing their way up my body. I whimpered a little, trying to push them away, but my hands just passed right through them—they were intangible.

When I took a step forward, something crumbled and crunched under my feet, the crack splitting the cold silence. Aragorn heard it, and he looked down at his feet; moments later, his head snapped up, his expression revolted. "Do not look down."

I froze, trying not to move. What could it possibly…I looked. "Oh, god." I rushed forward, bile rising in my throat as I moved over the skulls littered all over the floor.

The tunnel melted into a large space, over an abyss, dark and dank. As I looked up, a tall building rose high into the air, but it was old and crumbling into ruin. We all huddled together, and I looked around, trying to find something, someone that would aid our journey.

"Who enters my domain?"

We all turned, as a man, green, pale and rotting materialized a few feet behind us. He wore tattered robes and a tall crown. A majestic looking sword rested on his hip. He was obviously of higher standing.

"One who would have your allegiance," Aragorn whispered.

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass," the ghost snarled, his pale eyes narrowing.

"You will suffer me!" Aragorn replied, and I looked at him. The undead against the living... I didn't have a good feeling about this, and it only worsened as the ghost king started to laugh.

Tall, green buildings started to form, and a large army of ghost soldiers appeared all around us. We were completely closed in, with no way out, except over the abyss.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. The way is shut. Now you must die." The ghost king stepped forwards, his lips pulled back to reveal blackened, broken teeth. His eyes wandered over to me and he leered with no shame, his eyes sweeping my body. I moved closer to Legolas, whose face looked like he could kill.

The Elf strung his bow and loosed it, but it just went through the skull of the king and clattered away on the floor.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!" Aragorn said, squaring his shoulders and raising his sword.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" the king roared, swinging his sword over his head to attack Aragorn. I knew death was inevitable—Legolas' arrows could not pierce him, but the ghost looked like he was certainly capable of killing us.

Aragorn parried the blow, and metal hit metal.

I flinched. "What..." My voice echoed among the rocks, and I quickly closed my mouth. In fact, now that I looked closer, Aragorn's sword was different. It was longer and more broad. The handle seemed to be silver, and the blade wasn't as scratched as his old one.

"That line was broken!" the ghost king croaked, and coughed as Aragorn reached out to clasp him around his throat.

"It has been remade," the former Ranger said very quietly. He pushed the ghost king back, stepping away with a little bit of a swagger. He raised his chin. "Fight for us...and regain your honour. What say you?" He started to walk through the ghost army, but I stayed where I was.

"Ah, you're wasting your time, Aragorn. They had no honour in life, and they have none now in death," Gimli growled, sick amusement in his tone. I noticed his leather-clad fingers tightening around his axe.

"I am Isildur's heir! Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled!" Aragorn yelled. He spun around challenging the ghost army. "What say you?! You have my word! Fight, and I will release you from this living death!"

As the ghost army started to disappear, he screamed even louder. "What say you?!"

We were alone now, and a pricking feeling ran down my spine. I took a step backwards, as the ground began to shake. I wobbled uncertainly and looked up, my eyes widening. "Oh, my god…"

The walls of stone cracked open, and skulls, cracked and yellow with age started to spill from every direction. Soon we were up to our knees, wading through the bone. Aragorn cried, "Out! Legolas, run!"

I looked around desperately, and found a small opening in the cave, big enough for us to slip through. "There!" I pushed away the skulls, and when I was free, I was the first to get out into the bright afternoon sun.

I collapsed onto my side in the dead yellow grass, panting heavily. "I—I…oh, god…" I raised my head, watching large black ships sail down a river.

I heard a sigh of defeat from beside me, and saw Aragorn fall to his knees, his head hung. Legolas put a hand on his shoulder, and I patted his hand soothingly. We had failed. Gondor was lost.

A rumbling came from behind us, and we all turned. The ghost king emerged from the caves, his face set. A tense moment passed between the living and the dead until he spoke. "We fight."