Disclaimer: Do I look rich to you? Honestly? Come on, get a life, I am nowhere near good enough to have actually written the Lord of the Rings, and I am certianly not rich enough to have bought the rights! I do not own anything in this fic besides the Four.

A?N: Yes, I know, this is, like, the shortest update ever. But please understand! Yesterday I slept all morning after the opera (we stayed up LATE) and tomorrow my whole family is getting together to celebrate the June birthdays, and then the day after that IS my birthday and I shall be partying and then the next day my friends will still be here because they spent the night, ect. So, I figured that it was better to give you a short bit than nothing. Am I right? I hope so. Enjoy!

Wraith Light

Frodo had collapsed from exhaustion on the rocky slope. For a moment, the others followed his example and took a short rest after their terrifying scuttle over the lands before Minas Morgul. The dreaded city was still in sight, however, so they were forced to coax Frodo to his feet once again. Gollum was frantically shushing and pointing towards the awful path that climbed up into the dark mountains, eager to get completely away from the rotten walls of the dead city and into the shadowy safety of the massive rocks. All of them were still exposed to any prying eyes that should happen to look in the right direction from the city, and this really didn't sit terribly well with anyone, least of Gollum, who lived by hiding and sneaking.

"Not here, no. Not rest here. Fools! Eyes can see us. When they come to the bridge they will see us. Come away! Climb, climb! Come!" Gollum whispered in a frantic and savage voice.

"Come, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "He's right again. We can't stay here."

"All right," Frodo replied as if he was half-asleep. "I will try." With a great effort he regained his feet.

However his rising was too late, for at that moment the rocks beneath them shook and a great rumbling rolled over them. Without any further warning, a great red flash of magma from Mt. Doom flared up high above the peaks of Mordor's black fence. A crack of thunder resonated through the mountains.

And then Minas Morgul answered. Livid forks of blue, flame-like lightning shot up the tower from the surrounding hills and pierced into the heavy clouds overhead. The earth groaned as if in mortal pain and a cry rose from behind the dead white walls of Minas Morgul. The harsh and high voices of some sort of birds of prey and the shrill screams of horses driven mad by fear and rage were mingled with an unearthly screech that rose up swiftly to a pitch beyond hearing. The hobbits and Jaden whirled towards it and dropped down to the ground with their hands slapped over their ears.

Once the bone-grating cry had finally ended, Jaden lifted her head and saw that the ferocious gates of Minas Morgul, looking like an open mouth, armed with sharp fangs, had opened and out of it came a great army.

Every soldier was dressed fully in black, standing out like a host of black ants against the luminescent walls of the city. At their head, rode a solemn mass of cavalry that moved like ordered shadows. Dark and terrible they were, and yet he who led them stirred ten-fold the fear alone than all the host behind him combined. Like the others, he was clad in black, however, a helm like a crown adorned his hooded head. Jaden stared at him, unable to look away from the empty hood. This was the Lord of the Nine Riders, returned to earth once again after his defeat at the Ford. He was drawing near the bridge, and Jaden could neither blink not look away. This was he who had dragged her from her own world along with the other members of the Four. Thanks to him, she was now in the position she was in, and it was because of him that an innocent boy had been murdered. A cold chill shivered over Jaden's entire body, a reminiscence of the dark journey between worlds.

Beside Jaden, Frodo was locked in a deadly battle between his own will and the twisted will of the thing born round his neck. The teen knew of this fearsome dual, but her own thoughts were absorbed by the threatening presence of the Nazgul below her. Jaden now held Eowyn, the woman who would soon slay this dreadful monster, in an even higher reverence, for there she lay, unable to even stir from the ground in his presence.

At the moment that Frodo defeated his inner battle, the Wraith-king turned and spurred his horse across the bridge and rode away with his dark host following him. The Lord of Mordor, his master, had set the signal, and he was now commanded to bring war to the West.

It did not take long for him to pass, and soon he was gone like a shadow into shadows, down the winding road. The greatest host since the days of Isildur began to march across the bridge, and this would be the first to assail the fords of Anduin. It was by far the greatest army that Mordor had yet produced.

As the dread left them, the little travelers' hearts went out to Faramir. Now a host beyond any that Gondor or the world had yet seen was marching on his homeland, and the storm would burst in time upon the walls of his own, beloved city. Frodo's heart fell into despair as he watched the black army stream forth from the dark mouth Minas Morgul. All that he had done had been and would be in vain, for the fair realm of Gondor would not survive such an assault, and all would be wiped away before it. J

Then, like the morning sun of the Shire had suddenly broken through his foggy thoughts, Sam's voice penetrated his mind and said, "Wake up, Mr. Frodo! Wake up!" He half expected the next bit to be saying that his breakfast was ready, and it would have come as no surprise. "Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone," he said.

The dull clang of a hollow bell sounded from the city and the gates closed. On down the road, the last sight of spears had faded and though the tower still grinned across the valley, the light in it was dimming. A dark, brooding state had settled on it, and it was now watchful once again.

"Wake up, Mr. Frodo! They're gone, and we'd better go too. There's something still alive in that place, something with eyes, or a seeing mind, if you take me; and the longer we stay in one spot, the sooner it will get on to us. Come on, Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo raised his head and then rose from the rocks. Though despair had not left him, the weakness had passed, and he was now able to continue on their hopeless errand. Even if no one ever knew about it, he now knew that he must complete this task. He pulled the Phial of Galadriel out and watched as the light peered out between his fingers, and then shoved down his shirt so that it lied over his heart. He then turned from the city of Morgul, which was now no more than a grey glimmer, and prepared himself to take the upward path.

Less than an hour had passed as the three mounted on Shadowfax shot over the grassy plains. Already they had passed the Fords of Isen and the island with the grim mound and the thicket of spears. It seemed almost like they were flying, for Shadowfax needed no urging and no guidance, he simply dashed across the ground with the speed of a storm wind.

Pippin was a most resilient Hobbit, he was bouncing back already. While he was sufficiently warm, the cool wind on his face felt wonderfully refreshing, and his ordeal with the palantir seemed to have been little more than a dream dreamt in the mountain mists.

"I did not know you rode bare-back, Gandalf," he said. "You haven't a saddle or a bridle!"

"I do not ride elf-fashion, except on Shadowfax," Gandalf replied. "But Shadowfax will have no harness. You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you- or he is not. If he is willing, that is enough. It is then his business to see that you remain on his back, unless you jump off into the air."

"How fast is he going?" Pippin wondered. "Fast by the wind, but very smooth. And how light his footfalls are!"

"He is running now as fast as the swiftest horse could gallop," Gandalf answered; "but that is not fast for him. The land is rising a little here, and is more broken than it was beyond the river. But see how the White Mountains are drawing near under the stars! It will not be long before we reach the branching roads and come to the Deeping-coomb, where the battle was fought two nights ago."

"Good heavens," Leigh commented from the back of the little party. "We've been at this for less than an hour and already the little man is asking questions! Pippin, you have an unhealthy penchant."

"It's only unhealthy if you ask the wrong people the wrong questions," Pippin replied.

"And I suppose you know all about that," Leigh snorted.

"A Hobbit with my experience knows lots about all kinds of things," Pippin said proudly.

"Clearly not enough things," Leigh shot back, "or you wouldn't be asking so many questions all the time."

"Goodness me," Gandalf said aloud. "I fear I have now placed myself between a rock and a hard place, and neither of them can keep their peace."

"I have a new game for you, Pippin!" Leigh called. "Let's see who can stay quiet the longest!"

"You know I'll win," Pippin sniffed.

"Fat chance, start now!"

For the next long span of time, silence reined besides the click of hooves and the shushing winds. Stars shone overhead and slowly slipped away as the moon climbed high above their heads. All around them, the grass swayed and danced in the patterns set by the wind, and it seemed as if they were riding in through a great, grey ocean that billowed and waved all around them. After a good long while, Leigh risked a peek around Gandalf and confirmed that Pippin was indeed asleep. His head was leaning back against Gandalf's chest and he bounced limply in time with Shadowfax's gate.

"You are a most clever young woman, Leigh," Gandalf said. "I can only assume that your little game with Pippin was simply a way of getting him to nod off so we could speak in private. What have you to say? And what I would like to know is what on earth happened between you and the Steward's Son."

"Actually," Leigh said over the wind, "that was what I wanted to talk to you about. Boromir... Boromir wanted me to go to Minas Tirith with him and use my knowledge to turn the tide of the war that he knows is coming."

"The man is a greater fool than I have words to express," Gandalf fumed. Suddenly, he calmed down again and continued more peaceably. "Once again, he has fallen for a great temptation. But yet, there remains hope."

"Not that I see," Leigh sighed.

"What does your heart say of him, even now that he has done this?" Gandalf queried.

"Angry," Leigh growled.

"Betrayed?" Gandalf asked gently.

"Yeah."

Suddenly he chuckled. "Trust in fate, Leigh. There is more to come for you, that I know. Men will be foolish at times, but women have been given the gift of forgiveness."

"I feel no desire to forgive Boromir," Leigh said.

"Give it time, young one," Gandalf said. "Give it time."

A/N: At least you got to see the Witch King! Be happy! And Leigh's a smart-aleck! I hope that I have given some hope to those poor souls who have been terrified about the Boromir incident, but I make no promises! You all know me! Randomly hugs random reviewers I have become unstuck! With my 'original' story, I mean. The bugger's been floating around in my head for half a year and I haven't been able to get anything in the way of a plot down on paper! AGGGHHH! But now, I have! The plot is leaking out onto the paper quite nicely, and I have solved several major name issues. I am happy! Indeed, anyways. If it takes a bit longer to get an update up than usual, you know why: my time demands and studying mythology for my soon-to-be-book. Huzzah! Remember, I like reviews! My other fic is teetering on the brink of being put on hiatus so I can work on other things due to the lack of reviews, and it was just about to pick up again, too! REVIEW! Say 'twinkies' if you have read my rambling noteses!