Disclaimer: Read my lips: I. Do. Not. Own. The. Lord. Of. The. Rings!

A/N: Hello again! Yeah... sorry this took so long getting out, but my I accidently sent my beta the wrong chapter and now I have this one, and my beta is working on the one that comes before it. Thus, if the time frame is a little off, you know why. Alright! I know some of you at least used to read my other fic, Spirit of a Freak, in the X-Men catagory. It is now finished. Sniff I was a hair's breadth away from crying as I wrote it. Please review it and finish reading it if you started it, and I would be very appreciative. Thanks much.

The Black Dawn

Dawn did not come to the plains. When he was once again summoned to rise and come to the King's side, Jack saw with a heavy heart that the sky had been hidden by a vast curtain of thick, black clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. Quickly, Jack readied himself and marched to the King's pavilion.

There were already voices speaking in dark tones within as he pushed aside the flap and entered the tent. Not only the rider that had come the night before, but another messenger dressed in the same fashion stood before Théoden.

"It comes from Mordor, lord," the second messenger said. "It began last night at sunset. From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it rise and creep across the sky, and all night as I rode it came behind, eating up the stars. Now the great cloud hangs over all the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow, and it is deepening. War has already begun."

The King sat silent for several long minutes, his eyes distant. "So we come to it in the end," he said at length, "the great battle of our time. We will ride the straight way and with all our speed. The muster shall begin at once, and wait for none that tarry. Call the heralds, Éomer. Let the Riders be marshaled!"

Bowing, Éomer went out with the two messengers and shortly the blasts of trumpets blew over the valley, although their noise was made dark and doomful by the threatening sky.

"Young Jack," Théoden said with a weary but hopeful voice, "you shall ride with us to the aid of your friends and the end of the age. Though it grieves me to call on one so young, I know that you would go with a steady heart and a ready blade."

"It would be my honor," Jack bowed.

Then the aged king turned to the little hobbit who had been standing silent but ready by the door for most of the council.

"I am going to war, Master Meriadoc," he said. "I release you from my service, but not from my friendship."

"But, but, lord," Merry stammered, "I offered you my sword. I do not want to be parted from you like this, Théoden King. All of my friends have gone to battle, or are going with you. I would be ashamed to stay behind."

"But we ride on horses tall and swift," Théoden gently rebuffed him, "and great though your heart may be, you cannot ride on such a beast."

"Then tie me on the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or something," Merry pleaded. "It is a long way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late."

"Rather than that I would bear you with me on Snowmane," the king smiled. "At least you shall ride with me to Edoras and look on Meduseld. Stybba can bear you thus far; the great race will not begin till we reach the plains."

Éowyn then rose and took Merry away with her to be suited in armor befitting his size, and Jack was left alone with the mighty king.

Tired, Théoden sank into one of the gilded chairs set about his pavilion. His head came down and rested in his hands.

"You did not jest when you said that darkness approached, Master Jack," he said wryly. "Tell me truly," he looked up and met the young man's gaze, "is all lost for us?"

"No," Jack replied. "It is after the long night that hope shines the brightest."

"Gandalf has taught you the art of speaking in riddles," Théoden snorted. "But I am comforted. I did not think you one to ride willingly to your own death."

"I may be," Jack shrugged. "Many of the men riding to your banner will not return again to their homes when this war is done."

"Yes," Théoden agreed quietly. "The green field of the Pelennor will run red with the blood of Rohan and Gondor, but how much more would be shed if we did not ride to battle? It is a far better thing to die for the right and just than to wait and die in cowardice as the Shadow advances. Are we all doomed then, one way or another?"

Stepping forward and dropping to one knee before the weathered man, Jack said, "We shape our own dooms. If you hid behind another's shield and were felled by a stray arrow, then it is your own fault for not standing firm in the time of need. Fate may be known to a few of us, but it is still in your power to change it."

Théoden looked again at the mysterious stranger who had walked into his life in the company of Elves and kings. In a moment he would ride forth with his armies to face one of the greatest threats ever to threaten his world, and this foreigner was willing to throw his own life into the fray and fight by his side. "Your eyes are strange to me," he murmured. "In them I see the life of a boy and the fight of men, all shadowed by the burden of knowledge."

Then the moment was ended and both men rose to leave and prepare for war.

.O.O.O.

Armor had been brought to Jack's tent in his absence and was laid out on his cot. A light hauberk, along with greaves and gauntlets of hardened leather decorated in the Rohirric fashion, were set on his blanket, waiting to be donned. Jack smirked. The others would either laugh at him or envy him when they saw him decked out in actual Rohirric armor. Personally, he might have preferred the lighter protection that many elves wore, but he was quite happy with what he could get. Then two more objects caught his eye on the other end of his bed. A helm very clearly of ancient elf-make rested next to a broad sword marked by the twisting motifs of horses. Swiftly, he dressed in the hauberk and other armor before reverently donning the helm and buckling the sword around his waist.

He then proceeded to where he had last seen his horse to get the beast saddled and ready for the ride ahead of them. As he entered the tent where the majestic creatures were being held, he saw the Lady Éowyn waiting for him by his horse's stall.

"Greetings, lady," he bowed. "I am sure I look either very courageous or very foolish."

"The former, I assure you," the lady smiled. "Truly, I know not whether you are Man or Elf, though I am not the only one to wonder.

"However, I am afraid that I have only a little time, Master Jack," she continued. "My brother and I spoke last night after the council, and we both believe that you need a worthier steed than the one which bore you here."

"Why?" Jack cocked his head. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Éowyn laughed, "but we fear for you in battle. Your horse has not been trained for war, and it may well shy in the midst of battle and leave you exposed to an attack." She began walking down the row of stalls and Jack trotted along after her. At last they stopped before a beautiful white horse with flecks of grey along its nuzzle and flanks, and a mane the color of moonlight.

"This is Fengel," Éowyn said proudly. "He is the brother of my own steed, Windfola. Éomer and I both promised to keep you safe and well, as far as it was in our power, and Fengel needs a rider to call his own. Consider him a gift from the people of Rohan for your valiant deeds. He is yours now, care for him well, and may he bear you to good fortune."

Before Jack could get any words out of his mouth, Éowyn had placed the reins in his hand and hurried off to prepare for departure herself; of course, only Jack knew that bit. He now found himself staring into the dark eyes of the most beautiful animal he had ever seen.

"I have a horse," he gulped.

.O.O.O.

Jack quickly saddled Fengel and cleverly stashed his spare weapons and belongs. It was easy to find a place for almost anything; only his bow, quiver and harp took a certain level of creativity. Soon, he figured out that he could hang the quiver from the saddle bow and place his unstrung bow behind him with his harp, which was well wrapped and securely tied to the back of the saddle and any other bit of trapping that the cords could reach.

There wasn't a bratwurst's chance in a dog kennel that he was going to leave his precious harp and bow behind. He wasn't worried about the bow being damaged, but he had been skeptical about the harp. On the other hand, he had carried it on his own back all the way from Lothlórien, and it wouldn't endure anything on this next trip that he hadn't put it through on that one. The horse's pace shouldn't bother it when it was so well protected and stashed, and Elvish instruments were a lot like Elvish weapons: they were tougher than they looked.

Once he was done, Jack led his new friend out and into the hustle and bustle of the organizing ranks, hoping that no one would run him down with a huge horse by his side. Then a new thought dawned on him.

"Shoot," he muttered. "Now where on earth or Middle-earth am I supposed to go?"

"To the front, with me!" a small voice cried from behind Jack.

Spinning around, the teenager saw none other than Merry sitting astride his fine pony, decked out in armor and ready to go.

"How do you know?" Jack asked, but mounting and following the little hobbit nonetheless.

"Because my lord told me," Merry replied, clearly still enjoying declaring his faithfulness to his new master, even though said master was going to leave him behind.

"Alrighty, then," Jack nodded.

No one said much as they passed,for everyone was focused on the matters at hand, trying not to think about what they were possibly riding to. Conversation was limited to orders, and every face was stern and set.

At last, the two reached their station in the forming line: just behind the King and Éomer. The latter, however, turned his horse and rode up beside Jack while the ranks behind them continued to line up.

"I see that Éowyn found you, then," he nodded in approval. "He is a fine horse, treat him well."

"Oh, I will!" Jack promised. "But are you really sure you want to give him to me? I mean, I'm not even a man of Rohan or anything, and..."

Éomer silenced him with a raised hand and a smirk. "I am sure," he said. "Fengel here suits an upstart minstrel like yourself wonderfully well. Your temperaments are well matched. Should we survive this war, I shall enjoy watching the bond between the two of you grow." With another knowing smirk, he returned to his uncle's side.

After a little more time had passed, a trumpet sounded and the king led his people on towards Gondor. No songs were sung on the journey, and no harp was plucked. Many songs would be sung of the deeds they set out to do as they left the grim shadow of the mountain behind them, but those songs would not be heard until the blood and gore of battle was washed and gone. Their ride was silent and shadowed by the heavy gloom of Sauron's cloud.

They reached Edoras by noon and stopped briefly to eat and strengthen their number by over three score Riders who had not arrived in time for the muster at Dunharrow. This did not take long, and they were soon ready to set out again and begin the great race to Minas Tirith.

Merry took this opportunity to plead his case one more time.

"This is no journey for steeds such as Stybba, as I have told you," Théoden replied. "None of my Riders can bear you as a burden. If the battle were before my gates, maybe the minstrels would remember your deeds; but it is a hundred leagues and two to Minas Tirith. I will say no more."

The saddened little hobbit bowed and walked away, leaving the king to his business.

"I find it strange," Jack mused aloud, "that I am allowed to go, and Meriadoc is not, when I could easily bear him along with me, since I am lighter than any of the other Riders." Now he had Théoden's attention. "Unless, of course, that is not truly the king's motivation."

"I have no excuse to hand you that would not insult your honor," Théoden replied. "Only your age and lack of battle experience could have been used against you, but while you are certainly young, there are likely other boys near your age hiding somewhere in the ranks outside, and you have already seen battle. Both of you were given to me to protect, and I shall pray to the Valar that you stay safe on the field before Minas Tirith, but if I can restrain Merry, then so I shall."

Then they took their leave of Edoras and charged into the open plains before the city. In the first day, they rode twelve leagues and camped by they Entwash. Jack now rode behind the king and beside the errand-riders as he had when they departed from Harrowdale, but his little hobbit friend was not there to cheer him, and in such solemn company beneath such a terrible sky, his spirit soon sank.

He may well be riding now to his death, or to a reunion between friends. Somewhere behind him, Merry was most likely thinking the same thoughts. So many critical pieces came together at this battle; if only one was out of place, then the entire thing could fall apart. Aragorn would arrive, he was certain, but if something happened with Leigh in Minas Tirith and the defenses were not ready, or the city had already fallen, or Gandalf had become locked in a duel with the Witch King, then the whole thing could go bad.

At least at the rate the Rohirrim were moving. They would arrive in time to do their part. How the others managed things was up to them.

A/N: The section that's supposed to come before this one is all about Leigh in Minas Tirith before the cloud comes, so now you know. That chapter will be posted as soon as I get it. Bear with me in the way of timing, first I have to write it (while working on a book and juggling school), and then ze loverly beta must go over it and send it back to me. I am tired, and the medicine I am taking is making me depressed, so PLEASE review! It makes me happy. Say 'electric slide' if you have read my author's notes, pretty please!