XXXIV - Boats in the Mist

"You may go no further." Aragorn declared in a loud voice that echoed through the valley.

The captain of the Corsair ships from Umbar stood up in response, walking to the side of the ship to survey the new threat. Finding two elves, a man and a dwarf, he had no shame in throwing back his head in laughter.

From the banks of the shore, Mirren smirked, unsheathing her two long silver daggers so that their blades glinted viciously in the sunlight.

Also unfazed and thinking of the Dunedain hiding now in the river rocks and the Army of the Dead that rode with them, Aragorn shouted again, his tone undeterred.

"You will not enter Gondor!"

The captain raised an eyebrow in question and asked cockily: "Who are you to deny us passage?"

"Legolas," Aragorn murmured, "fire a warning shot past the boson's ear."

"Mind your aim." Gimli mused, briefly, his own axe grasped tightly in his hand.

Swiftly, the Woodland Prince loaded his bow, taking an aim for just a moment before releasing. Mirren jumped slightly as the warning shot ripped passed the boson but carved itself through a mercenary standing next to him. There was a small moment of silence and then the mans body fell to the deck of the boat, igniting the anger of its crew.

"Oh!" Gimli gasped, in somewhat forced surprise. Mirren didn't miss Legolas' glare as he stared down the dwarf but Gimli simply ignored both of their looks, "That's right!" He called across to the black Ships, "We warned you! Prepare to be boarded!"

Laughing, Sauron's mercenaries were unconcerned by the dwarfs threat.

"Boarded?" One asked incredulously, "By you and whose army?"

Smirking, Aragorn lifted the once broken blade with two hands.

"This army." He breathed in satisfaction.

As he spoke the King of the Dead and his army emerged through Aragorn and his companions, attacking the ships as if they were little more than small burrows to climb and conquer. The battle was fought for mere moments.

"This is going to be more exciting than I thought." Gimli grinned, nudging his elvish friends as they each made their way down to the River's small shore. The Dunedain revealed themselves from the local rocks and stood with their leader, ready to follow him towards the battle for Middle Earth.

"We take the ships to Minas Tirith…and liberate the villages and town-steads on the way... We need to reach the city by dawn."

Mirren nodded firmly at Aragorn's orders; finally knowing for certain that her dream would come to pass, that he would be the King and commander that led them all into battle from the river.

As they boarded the boats, on the plains of Pelennor Fields: Grond, hammer of the underworld, was set alight by the forces of evil. And so it came to pass that, chanting, Sauron's armies knocked on the gates of Minas Tirith.

Leaning back against the railing of the deck, Legolas watched Mirren as she peered over the edge of the boat, an epitome of gracefulness as she shut her eyes against the river mist. The sun was behind them now and as they travelled down stream Aragorn's ghost army had reclaimed several river-side settlements from the Lieutenants of Sauron's armies.

Almost every man on the boat had spent some time watching her, either covertly, or, as Legolas was, with open admiration. He had known water could change the elleth, even on this quest he had seen its affects on the banks of the Nimrodel and her healing of the wounded in Rohan. Still, there was something mesmerizing about the power that she held within her, even if all of this passed unbeknownst to Mirren who was oblivious to their stares as her only focus was the water beneath them as the day came to a close.

"Will you not rest?"

When he found the courage to disturb her, Legolas' question startled Cirdan's daughter and only when she found herself looking into his eyes did she drift from the quiet elation she had found within her soul.

The Daughter of the Sea they had named her as an elfling. Then, it had felt somewhat like a curse; her mother had drowned, her father choked by despair. The powers she garnered from the ocean did not feel like a gift and her visions and dreams haunted her nights. She had been alone.

Well…she had almost been alone. For, as much as she wanted to despise it, the rippling of the ocean sang to her at night, the call had settled in her heart since birth. It had been a burden at first, but when she was alone it had become a companion, a friend.

So, although it was melancholy…Being on a ship once more exhilarated Mirren. The river was not the ocean; the black ships not carved for a greater journey by her father, but the water still sang: gently, smoothly, like the touch of a lover.

Legolas saw the freshness in her iris' as they stared through him. They flashed silver and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Once he had told her that he could hear the call of the sea in her heart but, listening for it now… he found that it was gone.

"Mirren…" He murmured, unsure of her glinting eyes.

"-Can you not feel it?" She asked ignoring his question as she resumed leaning over the edge of the boat. Her hair flapped wildly around her head and a gentle mist sprayed her face from the river below. "The water has power; it wills us on our journey…Together with the wind it will speed us towards the battles ahead, I am sure of it."

Expecting no reply and looking past him, she saw that many of the dunedain were trying to rest. The mountain had forced more than a physical impact on each of them; she could see it in the lines of their faces and the sagging of their shoulders, even as they watched her.

Mirren considered a moment how she felt and was suddenly certain that the river water had carried away the stress that had settled in her heart over the previous days. She could no longer feel the darkness of the mountain in her soul and she felt finally, like she could breathe cleanly as she had not done since her first visions of their quest so long ago.

Despite this new found peace; there was something about the scenes about her that she had missed as she leant over the boat. Aragorn stood alone at the helm. To the Dunedain, he had simply retreated into his position as a commander and king. However, Mirren could sense the wandering of his thoughts and knew they lay not with battle plans but with an elleth who awaited him in Imladris.

Sighing, she looked to Legolas and felt once more the weight of their journey crash down around her.

On the banks of the Anduin, Gondor burned.

In all her visions there had been the threat of this. Ash stained stone, crumbling in flames. Even as the ghosts of theDwimorbergreleased towns from their tormenters, the survivors were too exhausted to join them and only a handful had decided to muster and ride with them to war.

Linking her hands with the elven prince, Mirren made her way to their friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I have dreamt of this journey, Estel." She offered calmly.

"I did not think it would ever come to pass."

"By the grace of the Valar it has." She hoped her words gave him strength and attempted a smile to lift his spirits.

"Will it be enough?" He asked, releasing her gaze to stare once more down-river, towards Osgiliath and their fate on the plains before Minas Tirith.

"We will make it so, my friend." Legolas offered.

Mirren nodded, "Raise your banner; let the people of Gondor know you have returned… that the heir of Isildur lives and fights for them."

"Aye." The elleth didn't know that Gimli had come to stand beside them but she was glad for his interruption. When her gaze met his, she saw an echo of the glittering caves dancing in his eyes and knew instantly that its beauty was what he would fight for on the morn. "Let it be done, lad…Raise your lasses banner."

Looking at each of them in turn, Aragorn nodded, a small smile lighting up his face to deliver hope.

Grinning, Gimli fetched the soft fabric from Elladan and Elrohir, black and moulded in secret in Rivendell by Arwen. Her father and brothers had carried it a great distance with a broken sword so Aragorn could become Elessar, a hope for the men of the West.

Turning to watch it as the Dunedain raised it with the sails, Mirren could see that the Black banner became alive with the wind and completely captured the attention of the living and the dead. It called them to fulfil their oath just as much as Aragorn's words had under the mountain.

A silence fell about the ships and hearing the call of the water as clearly now as she had as a child; the daughter of the sea felt the weight of her father's horn at her side.

Swiftly, before she could convince herself otherwise she lifted its curved wooded frame to her lips and let the Horn of Cirdan sing.

The sound of it Legolas recognised instantly.

It was what he had been searching for. The call of her heart; the sound of the sea at the turning of the tide, everything about it sounded like pure light itself. Even as it fell from her lips it echoed along the river. Focussing on her face, Legolas could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes and knew without thinking that tears collected in his own too.

Onboard, everyone stood to face her as if compelled by an invisible force. Each of them, in that moment would have died for her without question. Only then did she understand the power of her father's gift.

Even as the Grey company tried to pull their gazes away from the elf-maiden who distracted them easily, Mirren slowly turned her face to Aragorn… and bowed gently.

"We're with you, Estel." She murmured, "'Til the very end."

"-'Til the very end." Aragorn agreed, reaching out to pull her straight once more. Gently, he wiped a tear from her cheek.

Simply, turning to the Dunedain Aragorn spoke with the voice of a King, "We fight for the light and for all men."

Cheering, soon even the last of the Gondorian's marched with them along the river banks, survivors from the town steads along the Anduin who had heard the call of Mirren's horn and came to aid the heir of Isildur on his way to battle.

Many of them who held more courage pilled into the ships steered by the ghosts of theDwimorberg. And the day set into evening, the sun waving as it sunk into the horizon like the fond farewell of a friend.

A haze of light still dimmed the air, but the stars were gone, and sunrise was clearly imminent. Resting through the night had been difficult, but even as she became more aware of the dunedain's stares, Mirren found little sleep and eventually gave up curling around herself in the corner of the deck and rose to her feet to watch the banks of the Anduin as they passed them by.

As he had once in a dream, Legolas stood at the prow of the boat, staring into the mist of the horizon as she approached him. But, the feeling in her chest as she saw the ellon standing there was beyond anything she could have dreamt.

"Neither of us can make promises," She started as she came to stand next to him, fully equipped for the oncoming battle - her father's horn slung once more over her chest, "… but… know I long to stay close to you tomorrow- to fight together as we have always done."

Slowly, she leant into him, curling both her hands around his arm as they watched the boats pass through the night mist.

Gently, Legolas smiled and squeezed her fingers softly. "Stay close."

He had said it before but still, a warm shiver reached through her and held her heart.

There was not much more that needed to be said aloud between them.

She felt his presence as she had done for many years; but now she understood the calmness of the fire within her, the love that they shared. And could only wish they would share for an age more.

With Arwen's banner billowing in the spring wind, the liberated corsair ships sailed towards Osgiliath and the White City. Mirren and Legolas stood alone amongst the passengers. Each of them was a white figure against the darkness of the hull of the boat and the blue of the river below. Unknowingly, they carried the light of their people towards the battle against Sauron. United, as they had been since they had entered the Fellowship of the Ring so many months ago.

As they watched, the sun ahead of them broke free from the horizon, igniting the sky from coal grey to burnt orange to crimson and as the ships broke the waves with a bobbing motion, white water cresting at the bows; they readied themselves for battle.

"Late as usualpirate scum!" A scratchy voice cried aloud.

The sound of battle had been evident for the last few miles down the river and Mirren gripped her twin blades tightly as she crouched below the railing of the deck; eager to use them against the forces of darkness that were attacking her friends.

"There's knifework here needs doing. Come on you sea rats, get off your ships!" The voice continued arrogantly.

"I'll show them knifework." Mirren scoffed in elvish under her breath as Aragorn nodded.

Swiftly, the four hunters emerged from the first boat jumping from the deck in unpracticed unison.

Surprised, the orcs who had congregated in the harbor stepped back in wary bewilderment. Hearing the Dunedain, led by Elladan and Elrohir disembark from the boats beyond them, the friends smiled, and began their charge.

"There's plenty for the four of us!" Gimli cheered, "May the best Dwarf win!"

Mirren rolled her eyes, already feeling the familiar adrenaline of the fight rushing through her as the army of the dead finally ran through them, answering the Heir of Isildur's call as they surged towards the field of battle.