Author's Note: This is a dramatization/AU/thingy that I came up with in eighth period. (Damn plotbunnies.) Most of the dialogue is lifted from the Ballantine edition of The Return of the King, although I've snipped the lines here and there. The Dead King's dialogue is my own. I was trying a new writing style here, so please don't flame me if it turned out pretty badly.
If you haven't read RotK, you're going to be pretty confused. For reference: THE DEAD KING IS NOT THE WITCH-KING OF ANGMAR. They're two different guys.
Disclaimers: The Dead King & co. are all property of . . . somebody whose name I don't remember. It's not me, so please don't sue me. I'm not making any money off of these stories anyway, so you won't get anything except my dog-eared edition of LotR.
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Kindred Spirits: A Meeting in Dunharrow
by Morrigan, the Nightmare Queen
"The dead are following."
The words rang in the stillness, reverberating across the seemingly empty field, ringing in the shadowy corners of the great grey army, woke the Dead as the voice of their lord called them. Ten thousand swords rang free from ten thousand tarnished sheathes, leaving on the faintest whispering echo of metal-on-metal where a true army would have deafened those who listened. The Dead Men of Dunharrow were again ready for war.
At the head of the misty army, a shadow began to coalesce in the gloom. Swirling fogs formed a grim visage, drawn and pained from years of rest denied. Chainmail melted into existence, and gray robes covered it over with their ragged remains. A great scythe, shrouded in part by the shadowy hands that clutched it, appeared out of the dimness; not rusted or ruined, like its bearer, but gleaming with a deadly light, reflected by the silver crown that this new apparition wore. The King of the Dead had come, and his people were following him to the Stone of Erech. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers, Malbeth the Seer had once said.
They followed, and their noiseless steps withered the grass where they fell. The Dead Road, it would later be called. All life shrunk from the touch of the cursed army.
At last, the Heir halted before the Stone, and the dead King's wraithlike form melted into a gesture of obeisance before him. The army gathered around the Stone, silent and cold, and all who followed the Heir felt fear chill their hearts at the sight of the damned returned. But the Heir showed no fear, and addressed the dead men in these words: "Oathbreakers, why have ye come?"
The ghostly soldiers spoke with one, whispering voice: "To fulfill our oath and have peace," they hissed, and the Dead King echoed it in his own sepulchural tones.
"When all the land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I shall hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever," the Heir said. "For I am Elessar, Isildur's own heir in Gondor!"
The black standard was unfurled, and the dead cried aloud: "Then so it shall be, lord. Command us!" The shadows knelt, and offered their drawn swords to the king, and lo! The morning sun broke upon the hill, and it seemed to Aragorn's eyes that the mists were swept away, and the wraiths of men changed; grey shadows though they were, their armour and weapons gleamed anew as the rust of ages fell from them. The King of the Dead raised his scythe as he rose, and the hooded cloak fell from his body. His expression of drawn-out pain was gone, to be replaced by fierce pride and a burning desire for battle.
The mists will gather anew, when we meet with Mordor's folk in battle, he said, yet he did not speak; his voice seemed to come from all about them, hissing and whispering like a Ringwraith's rasp, but imbued with a chilling command. You alone, King Elessar, may see us as the men we once were. For the terror of the Dead puts in the shadows in our stead, now that we are given a new chance to fulfill our oath. He paused, then drew his dagger and laid it on the ground at Aragorn's feet. We will not fail a second time. Command me, lord.
Aragorn bent down and picked up the dagger, and returned it to the King's hand. "There will be no King in Gondor, or indeed in all the world, should Sauron succeed. We must move with haste. Yet, but for the broken oath between us, I would call you my equal. Hear now my oath: if we should win this war, and your people are at last laid to rest, I shall again seek the Paths of the Dead. I will return their mortal remains to Gondor, where they shall be buried in honor, with all the care that has long been denied them."
And the King of the Dead spoke no more, but bowed again in reply; and a long look of understanding passed between the two rulers. For, though different beyond measure, each possessed their own honor, and courage if pressed in battle; and the two Kings each knew that in the other was a kindred spirit, and were glad to know it.
Turning, the Dead King melted again into a shadow, and his army again became the grey wraiths they were before. But Aragorn saw only a noble lord and his people, chastened once but ready and willing to atone for their misdeeds. And, for a time, could also Legolas and Gimli see it; but the gloom overcame Gimli Gloin's son once more, and only the unquenchable Elf could follow in Aragorn's vision of the Dead.
The Grey Company rode out again, and met no resistance as they passed into the Mordor Storm; for the terror of the dead journeyed with them, and none could stand in their way.
If you haven't read RotK, you're going to be pretty confused. For reference: THE DEAD KING IS NOT THE WITCH-KING OF ANGMAR. They're two different guys.
Disclaimers: The Dead King & co. are all property of . . . somebody whose name I don't remember. It's not me, so please don't sue me. I'm not making any money off of these stories anyway, so you won't get anything except my dog-eared edition of LotR.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Kindred Spirits: A Meeting in Dunharrow
by Morrigan, the Nightmare Queen
"The dead are following."
The words rang in the stillness, reverberating across the seemingly empty field, ringing in the shadowy corners of the great grey army, woke the Dead as the voice of their lord called them. Ten thousand swords rang free from ten thousand tarnished sheathes, leaving on the faintest whispering echo of metal-on-metal where a true army would have deafened those who listened. The Dead Men of Dunharrow were again ready for war.
At the head of the misty army, a shadow began to coalesce in the gloom. Swirling fogs formed a grim visage, drawn and pained from years of rest denied. Chainmail melted into existence, and gray robes covered it over with their ragged remains. A great scythe, shrouded in part by the shadowy hands that clutched it, appeared out of the dimness; not rusted or ruined, like its bearer, but gleaming with a deadly light, reflected by the silver crown that this new apparition wore. The King of the Dead had come, and his people were following him to the Stone of Erech. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers, Malbeth the Seer had once said.
They followed, and their noiseless steps withered the grass where they fell. The Dead Road, it would later be called. All life shrunk from the touch of the cursed army.
At last, the Heir halted before the Stone, and the dead King's wraithlike form melted into a gesture of obeisance before him. The army gathered around the Stone, silent and cold, and all who followed the Heir felt fear chill their hearts at the sight of the damned returned. But the Heir showed no fear, and addressed the dead men in these words: "Oathbreakers, why have ye come?"
The ghostly soldiers spoke with one, whispering voice: "To fulfill our oath and have peace," they hissed, and the Dead King echoed it in his own sepulchural tones.
"When all the land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I shall hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever," the Heir said. "For I am Elessar, Isildur's own heir in Gondor!"
The black standard was unfurled, and the dead cried aloud: "Then so it shall be, lord. Command us!" The shadows knelt, and offered their drawn swords to the king, and lo! The morning sun broke upon the hill, and it seemed to Aragorn's eyes that the mists were swept away, and the wraiths of men changed; grey shadows though they were, their armour and weapons gleamed anew as the rust of ages fell from them. The King of the Dead raised his scythe as he rose, and the hooded cloak fell from his body. His expression of drawn-out pain was gone, to be replaced by fierce pride and a burning desire for battle.
The mists will gather anew, when we meet with Mordor's folk in battle, he said, yet he did not speak; his voice seemed to come from all about them, hissing and whispering like a Ringwraith's rasp, but imbued with a chilling command. You alone, King Elessar, may see us as the men we once were. For the terror of the Dead puts in the shadows in our stead, now that we are given a new chance to fulfill our oath. He paused, then drew his dagger and laid it on the ground at Aragorn's feet. We will not fail a second time. Command me, lord.
Aragorn bent down and picked up the dagger, and returned it to the King's hand. "There will be no King in Gondor, or indeed in all the world, should Sauron succeed. We must move with haste. Yet, but for the broken oath between us, I would call you my equal. Hear now my oath: if we should win this war, and your people are at last laid to rest, I shall again seek the Paths of the Dead. I will return their mortal remains to Gondor, where they shall be buried in honor, with all the care that has long been denied them."
And the King of the Dead spoke no more, but bowed again in reply; and a long look of understanding passed between the two rulers. For, though different beyond measure, each possessed their own honor, and courage if pressed in battle; and the two Kings each knew that in the other was a kindred spirit, and were glad to know it.
Turning, the Dead King melted again into a shadow, and his army again became the grey wraiths they were before. But Aragorn saw only a noble lord and his people, chastened once but ready and willing to atone for their misdeeds. And, for a time, could also Legolas and Gimli see it; but the gloom overcame Gimli Gloin's son once more, and only the unquenchable Elf could follow in Aragorn's vision of the Dead.
The Grey Company rode out again, and met no resistance as they passed into the Mordor Storm; for the terror of the dead journeyed with them, and none could stand in their way.