Just to clarify, once again... a couple parts of dialogue were taken from the book, and in the following chapters you will see a mix of both book and film, alongside my own elements. And, of course, this is all being done for my own entertainment (and the entertainment of others) and is completely non-profit. Anyone who tries to sell fan fic has obviously never heard of copyright... LOTR isn't going to be in public domain for a few years yet XD
Chapter 35: The Road to Minas Tirith
A hand on her shoulder immediately woke her up. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth was surprised to see that it was still dark; all she could make out was a figure kneeling beside her.
"Good morning," whispered a familiar voice.
"Éowyn?" she asked. "What time is it? I thought we were to meet you at dawn."
"The sun has risen, but there will be no dawn today," she said grimly. Deeper inside the tent Anamaria began to stir. She immediately sat up when she saw the shadow kneeling beside Elizabeth, but relaxed when she heard the other woman's voice. "A darkness spread from the East throughout the night, and now completely envelops the sky; I deem this darkness will remain until the Mordor's fall, if it ever comes."
"It will come," said Anamaria emphatically; the Rohir maiden only smiled grimly.
"And we shall contribute to its downfall, or die ourselves."
The two women of the Caribbean quickly gathered the few belongings they had and followed Éowyn out of the tent. Outside it was lighter than inside the tent, though the sun could not penetrate the great dark storm clouds that had come from Sauron's domain. They could see the other woman clearly now and were surprised to see that she was dressed as a soldier. Helmet on her head and her long hair hidden away, she looked like any other young soldier.
"You come with us?" asked Elizabeth.
"I, also, will not be left here while all my family and friends go to war," she replied. "I have already given my farewells to my uncle and brother, and prepared myself before coming to you." Éowyn quickly led them to a secluded part of the camp. Other soldiers in the area paid them little heed, preoccupied with their own duties or the foreboding sky they had awoken to. Rumor ran rampart amongst them of evil tidings from Gondor- rumor that it would be too late to save the White City.
Horses were tethered in several places along the high camp in Dunharrow, and Elizabeth and Anamaria had tethered Inwer and Brego near the back of the camp where only a couple days ago had also held the rest of their company's horses. Also tethered there, to their surprise, was a new horse- a grey gelding eyeing Éowyn curiously.
"This is Windfola," said Éowyn, scratching the horse's head affectionately. "Not my normal steed, but one of the numerous steeds in the royal stables used when a rider of an éored cannot use his own horse, for whatever reason. He knows me well enough."
"Is my horse accustomed to battle?" Elizabeth asked. "I am afraid I have only had him for a few days."
"Inwer? Oh, yes, he knows battle."
"How did you know his name?" Anamaria asked.
"To the Rohirrim, a horse is as precious as any child- and we know individual horses distinctly. The former master of Inwer lived in Edoras and was a part of my brother's éored; I spoke with him a couple of times in the past." She said no more about it.
Beside the horses was a storage tent, and the shieldmaiden beckoned them inside. Within the tent were, alongside their horses' tack, two piles of clothing that looked to be the basic outfit that Rohirrim soldiers wore. Each pile contained a body gown of chain mail, a tunic and undershirt, pants, boots, thick leather gloves, a cloak, and a helmet. Éowyn glanced at the piles before turning to them. "You both are sure about this?" she asked, a keen glint in her eye as she inspected the two women.
"Bloody well am," Anamaria said swiftly and without hesitation. "Figured it would be suicide not to follow Galadriel's advice, anyways."
"Galadriel's advice?" Elizabeth asked, completely bewildered by the statement. "What on earth are you talking about? What advice?"
"You know, the advice she gave everyone in those messages in- oh, you weren't there with us in that forest." She frowned. "Well, Galadriel sent messages to each of us with Gandalf when he came back, and it was a bunch of jumble and rhyme, but I remember it well enough. She told me that when everything I love is gone all I needed to do is, uh, listen to my heart or something of the like. As it is, I'm bloody well listening to my heart now! I'm going after my captain and meeting him in Minas Tirith. Besides, the sword she gave me wouldn't be of any use out here, would it?"
"That is true," said Elizabeth, eyeing her companion's sword appreciatively. "The necklace she gave me is lovely," she said, taking it off and inspecting it, "but rather useless for battle."
"Less useless than Sam's pile of dirt," Anamaria pointed out.
"That is true, too," she smiled. She placed the jewel deep into her pack where it would be safe. "As it is," she said, directing her attention to Éowyn, "I have no advice but my own heart telling me this is the right thing to do. I will not leave my husband and my friends when all of them are at war. All who I love are gone."
"You understand my own motivations, then," said Éowyn, a fleeting smile on her face. "Very well, then. Get dressed; I need to see if we will be leaving anytime soon and see to some last preparations."
The two women dressed as quickly as possible, helping each other adjust the chain mail and all of the clothing over it. The boots looked to be a small size on men, but turned out to be too large for them and both women decided to keep on their own. It was quickly determined that Anamaria would have the less-revealing helm considering her skin color starkly stood out among the pale Rohirrim. Indeed, the only part that you could see of her face was her eyes.
"I hate this bloody thing," she muttered. "It's as if I have a bucket on my head."
"You can take it off once we reach Gondor," said Elizabeth as she adjusted her own helm. It looked similar to Éowyn's- her cheeks and nose were covered, but her mouth and chin showed, unlike Anamaria's. "This feels... odd."
"You will become used to it," said Éowyn as she entered the tent. She carried a large pack with her, which she dropped on the ground with the rest of their belongings. She inspected them over and nodded slowly. "This will pass- but you keep your own cloaks?"
"They look similar enough," Anamaria argued. "This cloak is the most useful piece of cloth I've ever had; I'm not taking it off anytime soon."
"Very well." She turned to Elizabeth. "Can you shoot on horseback?"
"I've never done it, no."
"I thought not, so I brought you this." She had with her a sheathed broadsword. "It would be best if you had something to defend yourself with on horseback." The other woman nodded her thanks and quickly buckled it on. "Now come, we must prepare our horses; the king will be leaving within the hour." She then opened the bag she had brought and it turned out to be a great deal of dry food. "Rations for the road, enough to split between us."
The three women made the final preparations for the journey to Gondor. Anamaria and Elizabeth stuffed their clothing- still the same outfits given to them in Rivendell- into their packs, and on top of that went the dry rations. They then gathered their horses' tack and quickly prepared their steeds for battle. Anamaria, though she had only been riding a horse regularly for a little over a week, found the process came almost naturally to her now. Elizabeth, who had not tacked a horse since Rivendell, found it a little more challenging.
"A little longer on the stirrups- your legs are not that short," Anamaria whispered to her. Though Elizabeth could not see it, she imagined that the other woman was grinning mockingly at her.
"I was on top of a walking tree for all the days you have been riding, you know," she hissed back as she adjusted the stirrups.
Their banter was interrupted as a loud horn call blew throughout the area. "The mustering horn," muttered Éowyn. "It is nearly time. Follow me!"
They jumped on top of their horses and the other two followed the Rohir to an area near the middle of the camp. Already a procession was being gathered and at the front Théoden's horse awaited his master. Éowyn headed straight for the back of the procession, far away from where the king would ride. As they rode, they passed a rather short rider, his head hanging low.
"Merry," Elizabeth muttered, sympathy in her voice. "He must have just been told he cannot come."
Éowyn glanced at her and then glanced at the hobbit. "Stay here," she said. She jumped off Windfola and headed towards their friend. The two women glanced at one another before turning their attention to the disguised shieldmaiden. She was talking quietly with Merry and, while they could not hear anything they said, it soon became obvious what she planned to do as she came back, the hobbit in tow with a cautious look of optimism upon his features. As he came closer to the women, his eyes narrowed and then widened in surprise as he recognized them.
"You two, as well?" he said in shock.
"You didn't expect us to actually stay behind, did you?" Anamaria retorted.
He shook his head. "I- I suppose not." He glanced once again at Éowyn. "How would you have me ride, my lady?"
"Hush," she said, glancing around- no one else noted his words. "If you must call me something, then call me Dernhelm. As for how, you shall ride behind me, under my cloak." And with no sign of warning on what she was about to do, she swiftly lifted Merry up and put him on her horse before climbing up herself. Merry quickly lifted up the cloak and pulled it over himself while Anamaria helped adjust the edges.
"Not the way I had imagined myself going to battle," Merry muttered just loud enough for his companions to hear.
"At least you will put Galadriel's gift once more to good use," said Elizabeth. "I remember your valiant stand at Amon Hen." There was silence as the three of them remembered Boromir and Gibbs.
"If Dernhelm has a name," Anamaria said, "then we should have one too, I think. Call me Joshamee."
"... Joshamee?" Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "Why Joshamee?"
"It was Gibbs' first name," said Anamaria softly. "He wasn't fond of it, though, and no one ever called him that- most people didn't know that was his name. I heard it accidentally when Jack was talking to him a couple months before I saw you again- before all this."
"Before all this," the other woman repeated. "Then call me Weatherby."
"Isn't that your old man's name?"
"Yes. I- I have a sure feeling now that I won't ever see him again... but I won't forget him."
Anamaria said nothing in response, and while both Éowyn and Merry heard their conversation, they did not reply to them- even though Merry knew that they were not from Middle-earth.
It was but a few minutes later that King Théoden finally came out, adorned head to toe in armor, to his horse. Behind him followed Éomer and a couple of marshals. They quickly jumped upon their horses and the herald let out another long blast. With this call, the procession at the top of Dunharrow began the steep ride down the mountain and into the valley. There all of the tents were gone and in their place were thousands of riders in ordered formation.
The king and his company reached the end of the formation and halted. One last blow of the horn signaled the beginning of their journey.
"Ride now! Ride now to Gondor!" Théoden cried aloud from the front, and six thousand warriors began a steady canter towards the East and the Shadow.
O0O0O0O
Jack was awoken by a touch on his shoulder. He willed his tired eyes open and saw it was one of the twins- which one, he could have never guessed. They looked completely identical to him.
"Mmhmm," he muttered.
"Good morning," said the elf with a slight smile. "Or at least it would be dawn, if Anor was not hidden by the darkness of Mordor."
"Hmm," he replied, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before blinking a few times. The elf smiled and left to prepare his own horse, but the man was not paying him much attention. He glanced around and saw that the Dúnedain were already walking about, preparing their horses and eating at the same time. He reached over and grabbed a loaf of lembas bread out of his pack, took a couple of bites, and stuffed it back in before picking himself up. With a slight stagger, he went over to Nithhad, who was looking at him with what he was sure was pure hatred.
"I know, mate," he said softly to the animal before scratching him on the head. "I don't want to be up and riding you either- I'd settle for a ship any day. Not that you aren't too bad, now."
"Finally like your horse?" Will asked from a few feet away. He put the saddle blanket on top of Wistan and glanced at his friend amusedly.
"Never said I didn't like 'im," the other man shrugged. "But the old nag and I do agree on one thing: we don't want to be riding anywhere today."
"We are all weary," said a voice from behind him. Jack spun around and saw that it was both of the twins- who was who was, again, beyond his comprehension. "But we shall be over halfway done with our journey by the end of this day."
"This day," Will muttered. "What is this day? I lost track of time a long time ago."
"In what reckoning?" asked the elf on the left with a slight smile.
Jack turned from his horse and raised an eyebrow at the elves. "There are different dates? Can't you people just agree on one? Makes life remarkably simple."
The elf on the left chuckled. "Different races have different calendars. Which one are you accustomed to?"
"Ours."
"We did come here on Bilbo's birthday- that was on September 22nd," Will offered. "It was the same date in- well, where we came from."
"So you use Shire Reckoning."
The elf on the right interrupted him. "Elladan has always been interested in dates, numbers, and other such queer subjects. Once Bilbo came to live in Rivendell he badgered the poor perian until he had memorized the Shire's calendar and how it aligned with our own, and all the others he had memorized long ago."
The elf on the left- or Elladan- only glanced at his brother in mock annoyance before continuing as if he had not been interrupted. "In the Shire reckoning, today is March 11th."
Will and Jack glanced at one another, surprise written on their features. Will frowned; when had he lost track of time? "Has it been so long already? When did we leave Rivendell?"
"December 25th," Elladan supplied once more.
Jack's face split into an awkward-looking half smile. "Christmas. Lovely. Best Christmas gift I've ever received- I always enjoy sticking my neck out for others."
The two elves glanced at one another before turning to the two men. "Christmas?" Elrohir asked.
"It's complicated," Will supplied quickly. "Don't think anything about it."
As it was, they were saved from further conversation by a call from Halbarad to mount up. The four of them quickly jumped on the backs of their horses, and within moments the Grey Company was moving once again, their third day on the road from the stone of Erech.
The riding thus far, for the most part, had been tedious. Already they had passed through two larger towns, Calembel and Ethring, in the previous days and were only met with screams of terror from the locals alongside more shouts about Aragorn being the King of the Dead. Jack's amusement over these calls died as he became more weary and, indeed, somewhat impatient to meet some sort of action that went beyond clinging to a horse. He, of course, did not mind lazy days sitting on a boat or on a beach with no action in sight, but fighting would now be a nice alternative to sitting on a horse for three days straight. He could not laze about right now, and fighting would at least provide some entertainment.
If he were to be honest with himself, he was especially interested in seeing these corsairs and if they lived up to his expectations.
Legolas and Gimli rode beside Jack and Will throughout the day, and it was about midday when the elf said, "I see smoke."
The elf pointed to the south, further down the road, but they could not see any smoke among the dark clouds. "I'm afraid you're hallucinating, mate," Jack offered.
"Nay! I see it as clear as day," the elf replied. "I had forgotten your own eyesight cannot see so clearly."
"No need to rub it in," Will said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.
"He's an elf; that is what they do," Gimli pointed out.
Legolas only smiled. "You will see it soon."
If the sun had been present, it would have shown it to be mid-afternoon when Jack and Will finally saw the smoke for themselves. While they could not yet see the source of the burning with miles of trees and foliage in front of them, they could easily guess what caused it.
With the smoke now in sight, the horses were spurred from a trot to a canter. It was not even an hour later that the trees began to spread out and finally end as they came to a great expanse of fields. Beyond the fields and scattered farmhouses was a large town upon a river. Part of the town, especially near the river, was on fire and great clouds of dark grey smoke covered the city.
Jack, Will, Legolas, and Gimli rode up to the front of the procession to get a better look and ended up near Aragorn and the sons of Elrond. They looked grim.
"What is this place?" Will asked.
"Linhir," said Aragorn. "The main crossing point of the river Gilrain. Let us hope that the bridge has not been destroyed."
"I still hear the echo of battle," said Elrohir. "Gondor still defends this point."
"Then we shall aid them," said Aragorn, and with that he spurred his horse into a canter once more.
"About time!" Jack said to Will with a wide grin. "This shall be fun, eh, mate? Who knows, maybe these corsairs won't be too bad."
Gimli overheard him and sputtered. "Corsairs are vile excuses of Men!"
Will only shook his head and was about to reply to Gimli, but his attention was turned to Legolas and the strange look on his face. "Legolas?"
Gimli heard the worry in the man's voice and, unable to see his friend's face, panicked slightly. "Master Elf! You better not be unwell for I cannot steer this blasted beast without you!"
The elf stirred and glanced at Gimli. "Do not worry about Arod, he follows Aragorn's lead." He blinked and the strange look came to his face once more. "Do you not hear them, the seagulls and their cries?"
Will nearly let go of the reigns in his surprise. "What?" Gimli blinked and looked just as confused as the man.
"Bad time to lose your sanity, mate," Jack put in, and there was no more time for conversation, for they had come to Linhir and could hear the signs of battle nearby. Aragorn led the Grey Company, Fellowship, and the Army of the Dead through the port town and they met the first skirmishes near the town center. Jack pulled out his pistol and grinned, but his smile quickly turned into astonishment and annoyance as the two battling parties stopped fighting and turned as one to look upon the newcomers. All of their faces were filled with terror.
"The King of the Dead has come!" cried someone in the crowd, and as one, the large crowd of fighters, Gondorrim and enemies alike, turned the opposite direction and ran, some dropping their weapons in their terror.
"Not here, too!" Jack growled in frustration. He thought about shooting one of them as he ran, but held himself back and shot the window of a nearby building instead.
"Was that really necessary?" Will asked with a raised brow.
"Be happy I didn't shoot one of them," he shot back. "Should have- those fellows didn't look like any pirates I've seen, and they didn't even bother trying to trip their enemies as they ran off."
"They were not corsairs," said one of Elrond's sons. "Those were Haradrim. Many tribes of Harad work under the Dark Lord alongside the pirates of Umbar; I would not be surprised if they sailed up the river on Umbar's ships, however."
Jack and Will had little time to absorb this information as Aragorn motioned them forward. They continued through the town, and, just as it was with the first skirmish they encountered, the moment the Gondorrim and the Haradrim felt the presence of the Dead they ran off, forgetting any orders or pride they had. With no one to counteract their coming, they soon came to the docks of Linhir where they were met with a most unusual sight.
The scene looked like any normal battle scene, with partially or completely destroyed structures and plenty of smoke floating around the fallen. However, every warrior was running as fast as possible away from the docks. The Haradrim were hurrying as quickly as they were able to their ships, the ships themselves being unlike any ships Jack Sparrow had ever seen before. For one thing, the sails were completely the wrong way- they were parallel with the ship rather than perpendicular to it. While the display of oars was impressive enough, it did not change the fact that the ships were rather small. Puny, really. The men running the ships- who looked much different than the Haradrim they had encountered- did not impress him much, either. Any of his men could certainly outfight any one of them in a heartbeat.
"There are the Corsairs of Umbar," said Gimli grimly.
Jack glanced at Gimli, vaguely noted Legolas' airy, far-eyed expression, and then turned back to the river before him. He was not impressed whatsoever with this world's pirates.
Running away from the river and heading north were all of the Gondorrim, clearly just as terrified as their enemies of the Dead. They certainly did not seem interested in staying around long enough to see whose side the Dead were actually on.
"Are you going to send your dead army to those ships?" asked Will to Aragorn.
The Dúnadan shook his head as he watched the half-dozen ships set out. "This is but a taste of the massive force that lays assault upon Pelargir. They likely will head to their allies there, and there they will meet their doom."
Aragorn was about to turn and begin to lead the company north of the docks to where the river's great bridge stood, but Elladan stopped him. "Wait! Someone has not fled- a Gondorian captain, by the looks of him. He approaches from the south." Surprised by this development, the heir of Isildur leapt from Roheryn and went ten paces forward to meet this fearless man.
A tall Gondorian with greying dark hair, rich, but bloodstained armor, and a wary expression slowly came out from the smoke that covered most of the docks. While his sword was sheathed, a gloved hand remained on the hilt. He stopped four paces in front of Aragorn and said, "I am Angbor, Lord of Lamedon. Who are you and what is the purpose of you and your company?"
And Aragorn replied, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain of the North. We ride to Pelargir to eliminate the Enemy."
The other man eyed the live company of just over a couple dozen men, spared a glance at the Dead who followed, and turned at Aragorn once more. "Then the Grey Host is under your command?"
"Yes."
Angbor let this knowledge quickly sink in; he was well learned in the lore of Gondor and knew what there was to know of the Dead that lingered beyond the Morthond Vale. He took in the Ranger's presence and, despite his state of dress, swiftly saw the man for who he was. He bowed deeply. "Command me, lord. How may I be of aid?"
"Gather what men you can if they dare come, once the Grey Host has passed. Follow us down the road that leads to the Anduin; at Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you." Angbor nodded and bowed, and Aragorn swiftly swung back up on Roheryn and led them to a great bridge that crossed the Gilrain. Without further delay, they continued on the road, now going due East, that led to Pelargir.
They did not stop until late into the night, and even the hardy Dúnedain were feeling the effects of three days of non-stop riding and little sleep. Will was all but nodding off on Wistan, but before he collapsed, he needed to settle something.
"Legolas," he asked as they rolled out their bedrolls, "what was all that about the gulls earlier? You've been acting strange ever since we were in Linhir."
The elf sighed. "Lady Galadriel warned me in her message to beware of the gull's cry and I did not heed her. Alas for my folly, for now I cannot forget them."
"There were no gulls at Linhir," said Gimli, slowly beginning to suspect what was wrong with his friend but not sure if he was correct; he had thought that story about elves and the Sea just a myth.
"You could not hear them, but they were there, flying high above us, for we are close to the Sea. Their cries have stayed with me ever since, and I fear it will remain so until I respond to their call."
"You're not making much sense, mate," Jack put in as he laid down on his bedroll. "They're just birds."
Legolas smiled sadly at him. "You do not know? I shall tell you, then. All elves of Middle-earth- even my father's people, none of whom saw the light of the Great Trees- are doomed to leave these lands and sail West to lands forbidden to mortals. When we come to the Sea and hear the cries of the gulls, the calling from the Blessed Lands is awakened in us. I will never know full peace again in the woods until I sail and leave Middle-earth."
Will frowned; he did not quite understand all of what Legolas said, but he believed he caught the gist of it. "So you cannot stop thinking about the ocean until you leave to go to this place for elves?"
"Something like that, yes."
"That sounds... bothersome," he said, though quite honestly he found it more disturbing than bothersome. "Can't Aragorn heal you or something?"
Legolas laughed lightly. "This is not something that can be cured; it is as much a part of me as are my hearing and sight. But please, do not tell Aragorn just yet! He must not be distracted from his quest, and he does not need to know about my sea-longing now. I will tell him when this is all over."
Will glanced over at Aragorn a few yards away; he looked to be sleeping, though he looked anything but relaxed. Sighing, he nodded his acquiescence to the elf. "I will not tell him." He glanced over at Jack and Gimli; they seemed to have dozed off while they talked. "Let us sleep; it will be a long ride tomorrow."
"Wise words, my friend."
O0O0O0O
It was just after three hours past midnight when Aragorn awoke with a gasp. Halbarad, who lay nearby, awoke at the sound and his hand went immediately to the hilt of his sword. When he saw no enemy and only heard the sound of his kinsman's breathing, he relaxed and rather focused his attention on his chieftain.
"Aragorn?" he said softly as he approached him. "Are you well?"
The other man sat up and gently massaged his brow. "Yes, I am well, but I fear for Minas Tirith. My dreams were dark this night, and I know in my heart the White City has already been assailed. I fear it will fall ere we come to its aid. We must leave."
"At once?"
"Yes. If we do not leave now, we shall never reach the city in time."
Halbarad nodded and stood, quickly alerting the sentries of this new development. Within half an hour, the men were awake and on top of their horses, and by the fourth hour of the day they were off.
That day was the hardest day of their ride yet; they did not rest at all during the day, and when night fell, they continued to ride. By this time, every mortal within the Company felt a weariness unlike any weariness they had ever felt before. Will was all but falling asleep on his steed, and Jack had taken to muttering nonsensical songs under his breath to keep himself distracted from his exhaustion. Legolas, while trying to encourage his mortal companions as they rode, often stared into the distance for long periods and paid little heed to the world around him.
Elladan and Elrohir, while feeling the effects of so many days of hard riding, were not as weary as the others and the former rode in the rear to see that none of the company went astray, while the latter rode near the head with Aragorn and kept an eye on him. The Dúnadan knew this and was thankful for the support, for while he kept up the facade of never-ending strength for the company he led, he too felt great fatigue.
While they did not know the hour of the day, for the dark clouds of Mordor still covered the sun, they knew that it was sometime near dawn when they finally came to Pelargir. The road in front of them slopped down and went on for a mile or so longer before it came to the entrance of the city. The port of Pelargir was much greater in size than Linhir, but even then, the city- the largest one Jack and Will had seen in their time in Middle-earth- looked small compared to the great fleet on the Anduin. Fifty large ships- ships much larger than the ones that had come to Linhir- overtook the ports of Pelargir, and surrounding these ships were dozens of smaller vessels of all sizes.
"Might have underestimated our pirate friends," Jack muttered to Will with a slight shrug. The young man only nodded wordlessly as he eyed the great fleet- a fleet that could hold thousands upon thousands of men.
Their attention was soon turned from the fleet to an army of a couple hundred men rushing out of the gates of Pelargir to meet them. The Grey Host stirred, but Aragorn held up a hand before they could rush onto them. Within a few minutes, the army of Haradrim and Corsairs were but a couple hundred feet away from them.
The enemy stopped and, while they felt an uncertain fear in their hearts, they did not see the army that lay behind the Grey Company and laughed at the few they saw. "Come to see the ruin of your city?" boasted a corsair captain at the front of the group.
"You are not welcome in Gondor," said Aragorn. "You do not know your peril."
The army laughed, the captain loudest of them all. "Kill them!" he shouted to the men.
Before they could make even a few strides forward, the heir of Isildur cried out, "Now come! By the Black Stone I call you! Now fulfill your oath!" Suddenly the Army of the Dead rushed past the Grey Company, drawing pale swords and crying terrible battle oaths. The army of the enemy stopped in their tracks and turned white in terror.
Jack leaned back into his saddle and smiled as he watched the ghosts crash upon them like an angry tidal wave. This was bound to be good.
O0O0O0O
Anamaria pulled herself gracelessly off Brego, muttering a curse under her breath as her ankle protested at the weight she put on it. The horse looked at her knowingly, as if he knew that she was not feeling well. She only glared at him as she started taking off his tack.
Beside her, she heard a grunt as Elizabeth slid off Inwer. Éowyn, of course, dismounted Windfola as if she had been doing it for all her life. 'She probably has,' the woman thought to herself. The shieldmaiden quickly took Merry off as well, and, just like the night before, no one around them said anything about it.
After the army had started moving out from Dunharrow, Éowyn had led the others farther away from the king to a completely different company. It was with this éored they had ridden with since, and the others had noticed that this group of men was treating them oddly. If Anamaria were to be quite honest with herself, she would have sworn that Elfhelm, the Marshal who led this éored, had even nodded at Éowyn when she had fallen behind him.
In the end, Elfhelm and she seemed to have some sort of understanding. No other soldier in the group paid any attention to her or her companions, even when it became rather obvious that Merry was there as well.
This, of course, allowed her to eat without trying to hide her whole appearance and allowed her to take off the awful helm when she fell asleep. To say she was relieved would be an understatement.
Just as they had done the night before, the four of them gathered closely together, their horses forming a barrier and separating them from the rest of the company. As they each took out their dried rations and began to eat, Éowyn spoke.
"If we are not delayed, we shall come to Mundburg in two to three days. Who can say what awaits us there."
"War, most likely," Anamaria said bluntly. "The bloody carnage of war."
Even in the dim light of the night's fires the others could see Merry's face pale. "Poor Pippin, trapped in that city," he said quietly as if to himself.
"Gandalf will look after him," Elizabeth said gently. Her own heart turned to her husband; her anger had cooled somewhat, and while she was sure that it would come back again once she knew if he was well, worry for him was at the forefront of her mind. Even if he made it beyond the paths and to Minas Tirith, if the force coming to the city was as great as she expected it to be, there was a great chance that he would fall in battle.
"Anyways," said Anamaria with a slight smile, "you'll be able to tell Pippin how well you fought, using your sword and Galadriel's dagger to kill anyone who dared to stand in your path."
Merry snorted humorously. "I am only a hobbit; I won't be of much use here. I- I just want to help my friends."
"From what I've seen these last few months," the darker woman said softly, "Hobbits are more useful than people think." Elizabeth nodded wordlessly in agreement; Éowyn only stared at him, her blank expression revealing nothing.
After they had eaten, Éowyn stood and went to her horse while the others unrolled their bedrolls. Elizabeth and Merry were soon asleep, but Anamaria found sleep eluding her that night. After tossing and turning for a while, she sat up and walked over to Éowyn, who was silently brushing down Windfola for the second time that evening.
Anamaria gently scratched Brego on his head as she glanced at the Rohir. The other woman seemed distracted, and while her gaze was on the brush, her friend was sure that the shieldmaiden's thoughts were far away from her mundane task. She sighed and, as if he was worried, Brego gently nudged his rider. The dark woman smiled and ran her fingers through his mane.
"Brego does well with you," Éowyn spoke suddenly.
"I never thought myself a horse-person," Anamaria said with a shrug, "but he has been a good fellow, ever since Aragorn gave him to me. My first horse was killed in that Warg battle."
"I remember," she replied. She left her own steed and gently stroked Brego's face. "This horse was my cousin's for a long time."
Anamaria blanched; she remembered the funeral for him. "I'm sorry; I didn't know."
Éowyn shook her head, her expression grim. "The past is past. After Théodred's death, Brego became wild; he followed my brother to Edoras only because he held my cousin's body. But when Théodred never returned to him, he would let no one near- that is, until Aragorn came. I saw it with my own eyes; the horse changed from a wild beast to the endearing creature he was before my cousin fell." Her grim expression flickered as she glanced at Brego, and then turned to the other woman. "Take care of him."
"I'll do my best," said Anamaria with a wry smile, "though he'd be likely better off staying in Rohan than with me when this is done." She stroked his mane thoughtfully. "What will you do, when this war is over?"
"You assume we will succeed."
Anamaria raised an eyebrow at her dark tone. "Aye, I do." She knew that a big part of their victory was if Frodo and Sam were successful, and she simply could not let her thoughts stray to the consequences if they were not. It was hard enough losing Gibbs and Boromir.
Éowyn laughed humorously. "You have more hope than I, then." She fell silent for a moment before saying, "I do not expect to ride away from this battlefield."
Her friend frowned. "You think you will die?" She paused. "Do you want to die?"
The Rohir's face became grimmer. "I would rather die with my kin in valor and glory than rot away with old age, safe and yet alone as I have been for all of my life." Before Anamaria could comment, she turned away and went to her bedroll.
Before she joined her companions in slumber, Anamaria promised herself to keep an eye on Éowyn when they came to Minas Tirith. The shieldmaiden may want to die some glorious death in battle, but she certainly had no intention on letting her friend die easily. The reason she had snuck into the army was to help her friends- and if Éowyn were the one in need of aid, she would gladly give it to her.
O0O0O0O
The fighting was done by the afternoon, and those of the Grey Company had done little of the actual fighting. Jack would say he was disappointed in doing so little if he actually was. The Army of the Dead, however, had greatly provided the entertainment and end to the monotony of five days of constant riding in a spectacular fashion. He had simply never imagined all of the ways battles changed when one could both fly and walk through anything. To say the results were fascinating would be an understatement.
Sadly, the post-battle business was not nearly as entertaining. Once all of Gondor's enemies were slain or run away, Aragorn dispersed the members of his company to each of the large boats.
"Do you want us to make sure they are ready to sail?" Will asked. "Are we leaving so soon?"
The Ranger's lips had thinned. "Nay; the Corsairs of Umbar are well known to use slaves on their ships."
"We'll take that large one up there," Jack said with a quick smile, taking Will by the shoulder and pushing him towards the great ship at the front of the procession. Once they were out of earshot, he snorted. "These pirates are bloody idiots. Even Barbossa knew that slaves were no good with ships."
Will raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Well, land slaves are with their families and friends most of the time, eh? They sleep on land, usually in some sort of bed, usually have decent food-"
"Any food is better than a ship's load of food," Will countered with a grimace.
"Exactly. But when you have slaves on a ship, they have no motivation for doing anything- no decent food, no family, and soon enough they become so despondent that they don't even care if you kill them off. The effort of replacing slaves over and over again is not worth it; much easier to pay the crew to keep the ship in tip-top shape."
Will only nodded as they came to the vessel. Jack quickly leapt onto the deck and took a deep breath. "I've missed this." He glanced around the area, nonchalantly stepping over a dead corsair as he went to the wheel. He put his hands on it and closed his eyes, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.
"C'mon Jack, let's go down below," the younger man called out to his companion. Sighing, he regretfully let go of the wheel and followed Will below deck to where the oars were. He nearly bumped into the other man when he stopped in his tracks. Jack quickly peeked over his shoulder to see what made him do this, and his face fell.
To say the slaves were in deplorable condition would be an understatement. Each man was chained at the hands, which was in turn connected to the oar where he sat. They were in various states of emaciation, some so thin that the bones were clearly visible under the skin around their very baggy clothes. Each of them was filthier than Gibbs after a snooze in a pigsty, and they looked at the two newcomers mostly in fear and suspicion.
"These pirates weren't very nice," Jack whispered to the younger man, ignoring the fact that everyone who was lucid enough was openly staring at him. Will only nodded, and the other cleared his throat before clasping his hands together and stepping in front of the blacksmith. "Gents! As you may have already guessed, due to recent events there has been a change of plans for you all. Most regretfully the former keepers of this fine ship have disappeared, leaving this ship very much abandoned in- where are we, Will?"
"Pelargir."
"Right, Pelargir!" He cleared his throat, ignoring the looks of utter bemusement being sent his way. "As it is, I'll be taking control of this ship-" He ignored Will's expression. "-and, well, I don't really have a thing for slaves. So you can thank me for setting you all free."
"And Isildur's heir," said Will, knowing from past experiences that the title usually drew some form of attention. He was not disappointed.
"Yes, yes, him too." Jack waved him off with a hand. "Now, where are those keys..." He looked around the room for some sort of area where the keys would be held.
"Ah, we need no keys," the young man put in. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a picklock.
"Where did you get that?"
"I had it on me when we left on the Dauntless," he replied as he went to the first man and started picking at the lock.
"You've been carrying it all this time?"
"I thought it may come in handy."
Jack frowned. "What in the world were you doing with it in the first place?"
Will glanced away from the chains as the first manacle unlocked. "I'm a blacksmith," he replied, as if the answer was obvious.
The other only raised an eyebrow. "Well, then, I'll go and look in the captain's quarters for some keys." He left the other alone with the slaves, and as the first men became free, hope began to spring into all of their eyes- a hope completely unlooked for. Many of them caught the term 'Isildur's heir' and, even as weakened as many of them were, became eager to see if what these strange men said was true.
Jack soon came back with a key ring filled with many keys, and after flipping through several of them, finally found the one that unlocked the manacles. Within minutes all of the men were free. Some were standing, still shocked over their new freedom, while others were supporting their weaker companions.
"Right," said the captain. "Now you're all free to go. The town's a bit burnt around the edges, but I'm sure we'll all make due. What you'll want to be doing now is heading to the tall, dark-haired fellow that is likely surrounded by dead fellows if they're finished chasing the corsairs away. Nothing to worry 'bout them, though, they'll leave you be."
Will rolled his eyes. "I'll lead you all to him." He turned his attention to Jack. "And after that, I'll head to the other ships and see if any of them are missing keys and need the pick."
"Take these- maybe one of them will help," Jack said as he tossed him the keys. With that, Will, Jack, and the former slaves climbed up to the deck and Jack idly watched them leave the boat before going down to explore some more.
He mostly came upon storage rooms and sleeping quarters, and while he rummaged throughout all of the rooms, he found little of interest. However, at the end of a hallway, after finding no obstacles in his explorations, he finally came to his first one in the form of a locked door. Jack frowned at the lock; he had no desire to go find Will for the keys. Shrugging to himself, he took out his pistol- still fully loaded after seeing to it this morning- and shot the lock off the door. It proved to be an effective alternative to keys. Smiling, he put away his weapon and pushed the door open.
Another storage room. Others had contained food, clothing, and weapons- he could only guess what was in here, in the only locked room he had found thus far. Jack quickly opened one of the chests and a smile split across his face.
Riches. Tons of gold and silver coins were mixed in with various gems and assorted jewelry. His smile, however, widened as he took in the amount of chests that lay within the room. The amount of coffers was impressive; he had not seen such worth since the cave that held all of the plunder of Barbossa's men. Granted, the amount in there had been many times larger than what was here, but the Royal Navy had swiftly taken all of that treasure. This time, though, this time there were no enemies in his way.
It certainly would be easy enough. This ship was too large for one man to use by himself, but there were many smaller boats that he could use. He could not carry all of this, either, but he could carry one chest and had plenty of pockets for other riches. That would be enough to get him started, away from this suicidal war. He may even be able to sail himself back to the Caribbean.
His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming down the hall. He swiftly turned around and lifted his gun straight into Aragorn's face.
He frowned. "Can't go scaring people around like that, mate." He lowered his pistol, but did not put it away. Hesitation gripped Jack as the Ranger stared at the open chest filled with gold and jewels.
"The Corsairs have been pillaging the coasts for many years," he said. "The captain of this ship has been doing it for a very long time." Jack only nodded in reply as he glanced back at the open chest. Aragorn followed his gaze and then glanced at the younger man knowingly. "You covet it?"
"Any man would," he said quietly.
Aragorn stare hardened as he gazed at his friend, and Jack did not even bother trying to hold his gaze. His eyes were just as bad as Gandalf's. Silence lay between them for a few moments, Jack's fingers twitching on the trigger of the pistol. The other man did not miss this.
"You are not the man who you used to be, Captain Sparrow," Isildur's heir said pointedly.
Jack glanced at Aragorn and when he looked into his eyes, he knew that the other man knew. "When did you find out?"
"I have had suspicions for a while," was all he said.
The pirate idly polished the gun's barrel with his shirt. "And the others?"
"Gandalf, perhaps, but I doubt the others have any idea about your past."
The other man only nodded. His hand still on the gun, he glanced at the treasure. It would be so simple- he need not even kill Aragorn, just knock him out or lock him somewhere else... by the time he was found, he would be far away from here.
'That would be mutiny,' a part of his mind informed him.
'I've done worse.'
'Mutiny against a friend- a friend who trusts you to do the right thing.'
Jack frowned at the thought, and as he glanced at Aragorn suddenly the phrase 'For if thy past conquers thee again, darkness will come upon the world of Men' passed through his mind. His eyebrows furrowed; where had that come from?
'Galadriel's message,' another part of his mind helpfully put in.
With that thought, Galadriel came into his mind, and with Galadriel came the images he had seen in her mirror not even a month ago. The images had faded with time, but at that moment it was as if he was seeing them again in the mirror. His friends appeared one by one, and this time they were all ruthlessly slaughtered. The last thing he saw was Aragorn's lifeless eyes.
"Jack." He opened his eyes and he saw Aragorn had stepped closer, concern etched in his features. "Are you well? You became pale and swayed."
The man hesitated for a second before nodding. "I'm fine." He glanced at his pistol one last time before putting it back into its sheath. He spared the chests one last look before grinning wryly at Aragorn. "These pirates are a shame to their kind. This is hardly what I'd call worth keeping. The coins are dull and the stones have lost their shine."
A small smile came upon the Dúnadan's face. "So it would seem." He turned back to the door. "Come now, I have released the Dead Men and soon dinner will be ready- and it will be a decent meal, for the survivors of Pelargir are eager to help us."
Jack nodded and made to follow, but in a split moment before following Aragorn out the door, he grabbed a handful of gold coins and stuck them into his pocket. He would stick with his companions- his friends- for the long run, but that did not mean he could not help himself to a little reward.
And in the end, stealing stolen goods did not technically count as stealing, anyways.