Disclimaer: I only own my OCs.
A/N: SURPRISE! I had an amazingly productive few hours yesterday and managed to write this whole chapter within that time. I figured 'what the hell?' and decided to post it immediately. :)
Big thanks to Aetherial Guardian for favouriting :)
Review Response(s):
Pietersielie: Hehe, thanks ;)
shamwoohoo52: That I am XD
Mac Gustah: How would you react if I told you Fluffy was 'borrowed' by a man in a big fur coat and hasn't yet been returned to me...? As for the mural, well, they had five hours and several people all working on it at once... And one of them is a dwarf... That should be reason enough, I think ;) Also, the Templars are my friends, so, that's not going to work... P.S. Tacos
gabiey: Well, wait no longer!
jsun25: Yeah. Since Alduin technically can't be permanently killed, his Shout is still in place. Unfortunately, until he can regain his strength, there's nothing he can do about protecting her but trust she can get herself out of it on her own.
ROWDYKADEN: I honestly don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...
Dragon Man 180: Alduin regains his strength by consuming human souls... And after the whole incident with Skyrim burning constantly there are more than likely to be a few of those... :)
Chapter 54:
The dust invaded her lungs, making it incredibly difficult for Eleniel to breathe. The ground was hot beneath her feet, and a lack of water and food meant her limbs were weary. But she was not as bad as Frodo, who could barely stay standing. Sam and Eleniel had finally taken hold of an arm each and began tugging him along, their breaths heavy and laboured.
They had finally reached the base of Mount Doom, and while the doorway into the volcano was visible, it was still a long way up.
Eleniel let out a groan as her knees gave out momentarily, causing her to slip on the dry, ash-covered soil. Frodo cried out as he also fell, and Sam yelped as he was wrenched to the side.
The lack of sunlight was taking its toll on the elleth, who, even though she lived inside a mountain, at least had the option to go out into the light. It had been days since she had last stood under the warmth of the sun, or the gentle glow of the moon. She had become sickly, her skin having so little colour to it that she looked almost like a ghost. Her limbs shook as her body begged for some form of light that wasn't the blazing inferno above them.
"Eleniel!" Sam cried in alarm, carefully draping Frodo on the ground and scurrying to her side. Eleniel's breaths were coming out as loud wheezes now, and her arms shook with the effort to keep herself supported.
"Go," she gritted out. "Go ahead. I'll follow just... Don't let me hold you back. We're almost there."
"We promised to keep you safe," Sam whispered, eyes downcast.
Eleniel smiled weakly, looking through tired eyes at the hobbit. "You're going to save the world, Sam," she whispered. "That is keeping me safe, in its own way." She nodded to Frodo, who was practically clawing his way up the side of the mountain. "He needs you, Sam, more than he's ever needed anyone else, nor will ever need again. I promise to follow."
Sam looked unconvinced, but at the pleading look in her eyes, he reluctantly relented, moving to help Frodo up again. Eleniel was glad they didn't look back before disappearing from view, because as soon as they were out of sight her façade dropped, and she fell flat on the ground. She didn't care about the fact the ash was filling her nose, or that there was a sharp rock digging into her ribcage. All she wanted to do was sleep. So she slipped in the recesses of her mind and willingly walked into the embrace of the dream world.
...
Shrouded in black, hooded cloak in tatters, Ira approached the Black Gate of Mordor. Her ebony horse with eyes of glowing crimson gazed up at the gateway into Oblivion, and from within the shadows of the hood, another pair of eyes, lined with black, stared unwaveringly ahead.
"Het Zu'u kriist, aar do hin hokoron. Zu'u bo voth rot do kein. (Here I stand, a servant of your enemy. I come with words of war.)" The voice that resonated from beneath the hood was strong and powerful, and from within it came the power of the Gods, the Thu'um shaking the very foundations of the land.
The words were met with nothing but silence, the orcs on top of the gate gazing down at the lone rider, pondering whether or not simply to loose their arrows at her. But then, in a great mass of metal and leather, came the armies of Rohan and Minas Tirith, combined in one to form the force that would decide the final fate of Middle Earth.
At the lead was Aragorn, dressed in the armour of Minas Tirith, the white tree of Gondor showing clearly on his chest. While the rest of the army came to a stop several metres away, Aragorn urged his horse to move next to Ira's shadowed figure.
"Where are they?" he murmured.
"Waiting for the opportune moment," came the reply, and this time the Dragonborn sounded far more human. "Either that, or it is not me to whom they will respond."
Frowning, Aragorn urged his horse into a canter, heading for the Black Gate. Ira and Shadowmere followed, and were swiftly joined by Gandalf, Eomer, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli and Faramir. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn shouted. "Let justice be done upon him!"
After a second the gate groaned, the doors slowly starting to slide forward. Sauron's army were marching towards them, outnumbering their own force by at least five to one. Aragorn turned his horse away, racing back towards his army, and the others followed. Ira was the last one to trail behind her friend, eyes morphing into thin slits as the Eye of Sauron focused its fiery gaze upon her, and her lip curled over her teeth as she let out a vicious snarl. Then Shadowmere spun around and chased after his kin.
The group dismounted their horses and sent them on their way, while Aragorn stayed on horseback, drawing his sword and addressing his men. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" He ordered, and the blatantly fearful men steeled their nerves. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, men of the West!" The men drew their swords and hollered out battle cries, their combined voices completely drowning out the jeering taunts of the orcs. Aragorn finally sent his horse away, before turning to Ira. He sent her a smirk, then nodded towards the army. "Ladies first," he said with an illogical amount of glee, causing Ira to roll her eyes under the shadows of her hood.
"How very thoughtful of you, my Lord," she replied mockingly, before shaking her head and stalking calmly towards the orcish army, which watched her with eager, beady eyes. As she walked, she muttered the final verse of a poem she vaguely remembered hearing one of her comrade-in-arms muttering to himself the night before a great battle that would rage over much of Eastmarch. "Fod tuz lovaas ahrk muz rein, ahrk sos qah frod do kein, fod ney kul muz ahrk vokul muz dir, dahmaan daar hi krif fah. (When blades sing and people cry, and blood fills the field of war, when both good men and bad men die, remember those you fight for.)" It was a beautiful thought, really - that even amidst the chaos of battle, the mind automatically turned to those who silently urged you to keep going, even when fatigue was trying to drag you down.
Upon reaching the centre of the empty land between the army of men and the army of orcs, Ira stopped. Her eyes gazed directly at the tower upon which Sauron's essence had taken refuge, before she grinned. And it was the kind of grin that held within it so much power and confidence that even the Dark Lord would doubt himself for a moment. And then her body began to shift, her human skin disappearing, only to replaced by gleaming burgundy scales. As her body morphed, the army in front of her began to cower in fear at their newest opponent. Clearly they had not been informed of just what they would be up against.
Ira's tail thrashed against the ground, creating a neat little dent in the cracked, hard earth.
Ira narrowed her eyes at the army in front of her and drew herself to her full height before bellowing out an ear-piercing, ground-shaking roar. She pushed off the ground with her rear legs and sailed into the air as the Gondorian army surged forward, moving to meet their snarling and growling opponents.
Within seconds the Nazgûl came out from hiding, riding their fell beasts. These were somehow larger than their predecessors had been, and they were a dull purple instead of grey in colour. Ira met them in battle in a flurry of white-hot flame and sharp claws.
The first was knocked out of the air with a single hit, crashing into a corner of the Black Gate and leaving a large chunk of the wood missing. Ira let her Thu'um blossom from within her chest, the air cracking under the force of her Shout.
"Dur Neh Viir!"
Instantly a figure began to form from the rocks, causing men and orc alike to scatter from the area. Green, tattered scales appeared, and the great, undead dragon reared his head and let loose his own Shout, causing black, shadowy skeletons to rise us from the ground. While they moved in to attack the orcs, Durnehviir flung himself into the battle against the Nazgûl.
Ira dug her claws deep into the throat of one of the fell beasts, feeling the creature's thick blood ooze out over her scales. A feeling of pure power consumed her entirely, and she grabbed hold of the Nazgûl riding the beast and exhaled hot flames directly over both the creature and the fell beast. They hit the rocks in smouldering heaps of ash and bone.
A startled cry was drawn from Ira when two of the winged creatures attacked her at once, one clinging to her back while the other one dug its teeth into her tail. Ira felt herself swiftly losing altitude, and desperately tried to spin herself away from the beasts, but their combined weight was too much for her. The ground sailed ever closer, and Ira prepared herself for a heavy impact when suddenly another force rammed into her from the side. Another yelp left her throat, but Ira realised she had not, in fact, been the target.
Durnehviir had swept away both of the fell beasts with a single hit, and while one was quickly regaining its senses, the other one was locked firmly in the jaw of the undead dovah. The desire for revenge sprung up within her like a geyser, and Ira shot towards the other beast, using her full weight to send it careening into the Black Gate, destroying the gates and crushing several orcs in the process.
Ira then turned her attention towards the main army, sending out jet after jet of fire as the blood in her veins ran hotter and hotter, feeling her with a pleasant burning sensation.
The light of Sauron's gaze suddenly swivelled towards Mount Doom, and Ira took that to believe Frodo and the Ring were there, especially since the remaining Nazgûl flew quickly towards the mountain.
She heaved a mental sigh even as she swept down and picked up a troll that had been about to attack Aragorn. It was almost over. All Frodo needed was the last of his strength to toss the Ring into the fires of Mordor.
Within a minute there was a loud, high-pitched screech, and Sauron's Eye exploded outwards violently, and the spirit of the Dark Lord began to thrash around even as the tower upon which it was settled started to crack and crumble. Knowing their master was defeated, the orcs began to flee, but Ira and Durnehviir were there to burn the remnants of Sauron's army. A loud explosion shattered what remained of Barad-Dur, and the ground beneath the bulk of the orc army splintered as well, causing the orcs to fall into a deep fissure.
The army of men - now significantly smaller than its original size - all started to cheer, but then a sorrowful silence filled the air when Mount Doom violently erupted, spewing lava from its top.
Eleniel!
Without hesitation Ira flew towards Mordor, noticing Durnehviir followed close behind, not knowing what she was doing but nonetheless prepared to follow her. Ira's sharp eyes scanned around the barren wasteland whilst simultaneously eyeing the lava flow, hoping with all her heart that no one was caught in the flames. Durnehviir suddenly disappeared from her side, and Ira glanced down to see him scoop an armoured, red haired woman up into his foot, curling his claws so he didn't drop her. Ira gave him a silent nod of thanks, before swooping closer to the volcano. She spotted two figures lying on a dark rock and immediately descended, having to quickly dart out of the way to avoid the flaming rock that had been spat out of the top of Mount Doom. Her claws curled around each of the hobbits, and she turned and began to fly swiftly towards Minas Tirith. She avoided the entrance to Mordor completely, knowing that Frodo, Sam and Eleniel would need help as quickly as possible.
Within ten minutes they landed in the courtyard of the white city, gently draping their charges on the floor. The three were instantly rushed towards the healing tents that had been set up all over Minas Tirith.
Ira turned to Durnehviir. "Thank you for your aid, my friend."
Durnehviir grunted. "It was well deserved," he replied, before he muttered a Shout under his breath and faded from view in a puff of purple smoke. Ira allowed her body to shift back into her human form and immediately winced, glancing down to see four deep gashes, conforming with the shape of a wyvern claw, spanning the length of her right leg. They were slowly trickling deep, red blood.
Ira ignored her discomfort and headed straight for the healing tents to warn the healers of the large number of soldiers who would be needing their help within the next few days.
Tadaa! War over. Goodbye, the end!
I'm just kidding. This story isn't complete just yet. ;)
Until next time, lovely readers!
