AN: Hello, dear readers and welcome to chapter thirty-six. The chapter didn't even take me a month this time, I'm super proud of myself. It's summer and I don't have a job, which sucks, but I have lots of free time so I can write as much as I want! Silver lining, I guess?
I still don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. If I did, it wouldn't matter that I don't have a summer job.
Enjoy!
It was dark when Ginny emerged from below the deck of the corsair pirate ship. It was something like four in the morning, though she couldn't be quite sure. Most all of the stars in the night sky were veiled by Mordor's shadow. It had been quite a few hours since their small band (plus an army of dead soldiers) had commandeered the boats the previous afternoon. In that tome, they had taken time to relax and to rest. Ginny had used a few healing spells on herself and the others, but her magic was wearing thin. She wasn't sure how much more she could do without utterly tiring herself out.
When night had fallen, they had gone below deck to get some sleep, even Legolas. Gimli had taken the first watch, Aragorn the second, and now Ginny was up to take the third. As she claimed the stairs up to the deck, she spotted Aragorn leaning with his hands on the rail, staring out at the water. When he set foot on the wooden deck, she let her feet fall heavier than she usually allowed, heavy enough to make noise that would alert Aragorn to her presence without startling him.
"Hey," she greeted him once she was closer. He turned at the sound of her voice and gave her a small smile.
"Hello yourself," he replied as Ginny came up next to him, leaning with her rear against the rail of the ship. She said nothing in return, but after a few moments of observing him, her gaze turned scrutinizing.
"You've been alone with your thoughts for too long," she assessed. "What's the matter?" Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
"I- I am not sure," he finally answered. After a moment, Ginny reached out to cover one of his hands with her own in a comforting gesture, but she remained silent, allowing him to think.
"I suppose that I am worried about what will happen once we reach the city," he finally said. "I worry that we will not be able to drive back Sauron's forces and if we do, I worry about how the people of Minas Tirith will receive me."
Ginny nodded along with him as she spoke. She understood where he was coming from, even if she did not think he had much reason to worry about the latter.
"I'm worried too," she admitted. At her words, Aragorn moved to face her fully, stepping in close as he took her hands in his. "I'm worried about the battle we'll be joining in a few hours, I'm worried about Fred and George, and Merlin help me, I'm worried about you," she told him, and he cracked a small smile at the last bit. "I've always worried about you, you damn brave idiot. In every battle we've fought together, every skirmish, every patrol even, there has been a part of me that has been dedicated to worrying about you. You tend to get through with barely a scratch, and you'll probably be fine, but I'm still allowed to worry," she said.
"Especially since-" she paused for a moment to collect her words. "The last battle we fought together, we didn't have this -" she lifted their clasped hands between them and gave them a little squeeze - "this whatever this is between us, out in the open. I used to be worrying about my friend and parter, but now you're my love as well. I love you and I am terrified of losing you," she finished, looking up into his blue-grey eyes.
"Good, because I love you too and not a day goes by that I don't worry about you," Aragorn replied, giving her a little smirk. That smirk was it for her and Ginny closed the gap between them with a kiss that started out soft and gentle, though it turned rougher once their hands found each others' bodies. When they separated, it was with heavier breath, but contented smiles.
"You need to get some rest," Ginny said, her tone still a bit breathy. "You're not going to be any good on the battlefield dead on your feet."
"Of all the times for you to be sensible," he teased, but he relented and with a hug and a kiss on her cheek, he left to go below deck and get as much rest as he could before they reached the city.
At the first gate to the White City, Mordor's army was fighting to get in. They had hordes of orcs pounding on the door, and a great wolfish battering ram. It wasn't long before they broke through; orcs and trolls spilling in through the holes in the heavy wooden doors. Fred and Gandalf were mounted on their horses behind the front lines of Gondorian soldiers; Gandalf acting as general and Fred doing what he could with his magic to take out as many orcs as possible.
"Gandalf! Where's Gandalf?" Fred heard over the din and the cacophonous sounds of battle, and he turned almost frantically to see where the voice was coming from.
"Gandalf? Fred! Where are the wizards?"
With a nod to Gandalf that he would take care of whatever this was, Fred navigated himself and his horse out of the fray and back towards where the voice had come from.
"Fred!" the voice cried again, and Fred finally was able to see that it was Pippin. He rode to a stop beside him.
"What's wrong?"
"Denethor has lost his mind!" Pippin said, distressed and urgent. "He's burning Faramir alive!"
"Not if we have anything to say about it," Fred said with grim determination, extending a hand down to the hobbit to haul him up into the saddle in front of him. With that, they were galloping up through the city, second level, third, fourth, all the way up to the sixth. Fred and Pippin rounded another corner, coming upon a wider bit of road, but they were cut off.
A fell beast with a black rider on its back landed in front of them. The rider was huge and he wore a large spiked helmet upon his head, similar in construction and make to the armored gloves and gauntlets upon his hands and forearms. Despairing cold seemed to roll off of him in waves, like a dementor, and it took nearly everything Fred had in him to sit tall in his saddle and confront him - the Witch-King of Angmar.
Looking back on it, Fred would call it instinct, but in the moment it felt more like panic that had him drawing his wand and summoning up the memory of George getting sorted into Gryffindor right beside him.
"Expecto Patronum!" Fred shouted, and the silvery meerkat burst forth from his wand, running at the Witch-King and morphing into something of a silvery white shield. Pippin watched, open-mouthed, as Fred faced off against the wraith, though he grew a bit concerned when he looked back at the wizard and noticed beads of sweat forming on his brow. There was a moment when the patronus pushed the wraith back, a moment of hope, but it was shattered with a swipe of the Witch-King's sword. The patronus dissipated, and Fred was left weakened in the saddle, taking heaving breaths even as he tried to concentrate on their foe.
"Do you not know death when you see it, wizard?" the Witch-King taunted them, his voice a low and menacing rasp. "This is my hour." On command, his sword burst into flames and Fred and Pippin's horse reared unsettling the two riders. With a sweep of the Witch-King's sword, they were blasted back, and the horse ran off, leaving the wizard and the hobbit sprawled on the stone street. The fell beast made a triumphant roar, shaking Fred and Pippin to the core.
"You have failed," the Witch-King continued, making to dismount from his beast and come down upon them. "The world of men will fall."
He probably would have continued his tirade, but at that moment, a horn sounded down on the fields of Pelennor, drawing the Witch-King's attention. Mercifully for them, tragically for those down on the fields, the Witch-King and his fell beast launched into the sky, headed for whoever had sounded that horn.
Fred and Pippin watched him go for a second, and then Pippin was scrambling back on his feet.
"Fred, we must hurry!" the hobbit said urgently, pulling on Fred's arm in an attempt to help him up. Fred nodded. He got to his feet and while he gathered himself, Pippin was searching frantically for their horse. You can do this, Freddie.
"Forget the horse, Pip, come here and hold on tight," Fred said commandingly, and Pippin obeyed. "They're up on the seventh level?" Fred asked for quick confirmation. Pippin nodded. "Alright, hold on," Fred told him, and as soon as Pippin had a good grip on his hand, Fred turned on his heel, apparating the two of them up to the seventh level.
George had been more than a little disgruntled to learn that not only had Éowyn stuck around to fight the battle, but Merry had too. He had not been expecting that. Although in hindsight, he supposed as they rode towards Minas Tirith, he should not have been surprised. George knew he would have done the same had someone tried to tell him he couldn't.
The army (cavalry, really) of Rohan had ridden through the night and the sunrise brought them to the edges of the Fields of Pelennor. Horns sounded, signaling for them to stop where they were, at the top of a small ridge, somewhere between a speed bump and a very small hill. George was positioned right beside Éowyn and Merry and even from his view beside them, he could see their collective determination, though both showed signs of fear beneath that surface.
"Courage, Merry," George overheard Éowyn telling the hobbit in a whisper, "courage for our friends."
George was so tempted to reach over and simply grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, but he knew that he couldn't. They were about to ride to war, a war that Éowyn and Merry were decidedly not supposed to be fighting in. He couldn't draw attention to them. So he settled for catching her eye and giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
Up in front, just a few rows of riders in front of them, Théoden began to ride up and down the line, giving orders and directions to his generals. Éomer rode off to the left to direct his éored, Gamling centered himself on the line, and Grimbold darted off to the right. With that, Théoden turned to face the men.
"Arise!" he shouted to them all, "Arise, riders of Théoden! Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sore day, a red day, ere the sun rises!" he cried, rallying them up for battle. At a command from Gamling, the front lines lowered their spears, ready to ride. Théoden rode to the end of the line and drew his sword, holding it aloft.
"Ride now!" the king cried, riding down the line of soldiers and hitting his sword against the lowered spears. "Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world ending!" he shouted, and his horse turned forward, rearing for a moment - a moment where Théoden lifted his sword up high, presenting himself as a king that he knew they would follow anywhere. "Death!" he shouted to them.
"Death!" the soldiers echoed their king, George included.
"Death!" Théoden shouted again, brandishing his sword.
"Death!" the soldiers cried again, Éowyn and Merry joining in this time.
"Death!" Théoden cried a third time, his horse rearing once again.
"DEATH!" the soldiers shouted for all they were worth, and the volume of their war cry nearly shook the ground.
"Forth Éorlingas!" Théoden cried one last time. The horns rang out, and they charged with a mighty roar. They barreled down the field, picking up more and more speed until they were galloping full tilt. Arrows rained down upon them from the orcs and riders and horses were falling left and right, but their force crashed upon the orcs like a wave, flatting them and bringing them down.
When Fred and Pippin burst through the doors to the room where the hobbit had last seen Denethor, it was to see something that Fred was pretty sure would haunt his nightmares. They had built a pyre, and on top of it was Faramir, lying still and immobile, though there was sweat shining on his brow. Above him stood Denethor, his hair wet with something Fred couldn't identify, and his arms splayed like some sick and twisted imitation of the cross that he remembered Katie Bell used to wear. When the doors slammed open, Denethor whipped around to stare at them, his grey hair swinging around with the speed of his movement.
"Denethor!" Fred shouted at him, but the steward only glared at the two of them.
"You may triumph on the field of battle for a day," he began to say, reaching for a torch from one of his guards as he spoke, "but against the power that has risen in the east, there is no victory." With that, he dropped the torch, and the oil that they had poured on the pyre was lit on fire almost instantly. Fred threw a knock-back curse at the steward, sending him falling back off of the pyre, hitting his head on the stone.
"Get Faramir!" Fred shouted to Pippin as he ran around the pyre to get to Denethor. As Pippin was reaching for the young captain, Denethor regained his senses and lunged for him.
"No!" he cried. "You will not take my son from me!" He made to grab for Pippin, but Fred caught him by the collar of his robes, bodily throwing him back and giving Pippin enough time to pull Faramir off of the pyre. Fred stood back and watched as Denethor caught sight of Faramir, who they could see was breathing now, and blinking blearily.
"Faramir," Denethor said faintly, but his revelation was interrupted by fire, catching on the oil on his robes. The steward cried out in pain and ran from the room, out towards the courtyard. Fred followed, maybe to stop him, he wasn't sure, but he watched as Denethor, son of Ecthelion, threw himself off of the wall, falling to his death. Fred stood there in shock for a few moments, hardly able to process what he had just witnessed. Once he had come back to himself, he turned from the scene of the crime, as it were, and jogged back to the others.
"What happened to him?" Pippin asked when Fred crossed over the threshold.
"He jumped," Fred answered him simply. "He's dead."
George had never experienced anything so chaotic as this battle on Pelennor Fields. He had managed to stick by Éowyn and Merry pretty well, even through that impressive maneuver she pulled, riding under that Mumak and slicing its legs, but he had lost sight of them. George had his sword in one hand and his wand in the other, and when he wasn't bringing down orcs with his blade, he was firing spells at Mumakil. He tried throwing a patronus charm at one of the ring wraiths on a whim, but he should have known better than to try that in the middle of battle. He could barely concentrate enough to cast stunners, let alone a patronus.
Merlin, he hoped Éowyn and Merry were alright.
A few hours after the break of day, the ships were coming up on Osgiliath. Ginny could see the ruined city in the distance and it was not hard to notice the orcs that had taken up residence. When she went down below deck to inform the others, it was to find them all asleep, even Legolas. Ginny sighed at them and rapped hard on the wooden railing on the steps.
"Oi!" she called, as the three men were stirring and beginning to wake up. "Get your lazy asses up here, we have orcs to kill and a battle to win," and with that, she retreated back up the stairs.
It wasn't long before the boys joined her up on deck, each of them suited up for battle. Aragorn was the last to come up the stairs and with him he carried Ginny's pack, armor, and weapons. He passed them to her and she was quick to pull on her leather armor, though she decided to pass on the chainmail this time - she hated the weight of it. Once she was ready, the four of them decided on their plan. They would sail as close as they dared before the orcs would surely see them on the boat, and at that point, Ginny would disillusion herself and slow the ships to a stop while the three men crouched out of sight.
Aragorn had been a bit concerned about Ginny when she volunteered to use so much magic, but she assured them that she'd be fine. Inwardly, Ginny was a bit worried herself, but she'd be fine. She'd be fine.
And if Ginny felt a little weak after she cast the disillusionment charm then there was no way in hell that she was going to tell Aragorn that.
She cast her spells on the ships and they began slowing down, so she crouched down behind the rail beside Aragorn and removed the disillusionment charm on herself. She leaned heavily on the worn wood, worn out from the strain of her magic. Aragorn gave her a worried look, and she knew exactly what was on the tip of his tongue - are you sure you're up for this, meleth-nin? - but she shook her head at him. She could pull herself together, she was going to be fine.
Ginny took a few deep breaths to steady herself, but she didn't have much time. The ships were slowing to a stop and with a shudder, they were still.
"Late as usual, pirate scum!" one of the orcs shouted at the ships. "There's knife work here that needs doing!"
"Ready?" Aragorn whispered to them, and the others nodded.
"Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!"
Aragorn held up three fingers, then two, and then one. Aragorn vaulted over the ship's railing and landed with a thud on the dock. Ginny steeled herself and seconds later she, Legolas, and Gimli followed behind. Ginny straightened up to her full height and the four of them drew their weapons, stalking forward with their various blades glinting in the morning light.
"There's plenty for the both of us," Gimli said to Legolas, "may the best dwarf win!"
With that, they charged. The four of them ran at the orcs and behind them, a wave of dead soldiers came forth from the river, following Isildur's heir into battle.
Thanks so much for reading! If you liked it, let me know in a review!
Natalie out.