Chapter 16

Riding hard and fast through the dull and dead land of the Brown Lands was a good excuse for Sam to sleep. His head gently swaying with the movement of the horse, he had grown use to the weight of the Ring which often beat against his chest. But in deep sleep he did not feel the Ring or the movement of the horse, the voices of his company did not reach his ears as his mind was far away in the pleasant dreams of the Shire.

 He could see Rosie sitting by the warm fire with the children telling, reassuring them that Sam would return soon. She cradled the youngest in her arms and muttered soft nursery rhymes under her breath. He imaged himself arriving through the door and felt her tight embrace around his chubby shoulders and heard the squeals of delight of the children at the sight of their father. He dreamt of the sweet taste rich home grown food and saw himself doze as Farmer Cotton told him of his daily doings; the children playing innocently with the travel worn cloak Sam had thrown to the floor in his haste to embrace his wife.

 Their cheerful laughter turned into a cry of terror and Sam looked up from his dropping eyelids and stared in disbelief and in fear at the Great lidless Eye of Sauron staring down at them. His hand flew to his collar where there he felt the cool chain around his neck still attached to the Ring of Power. He had not destroyed it. The Ring had grown on him so much he had returned back to the Shire with it, and now placed the Shire in great danger. The floor of the farm house quaked under his bare feet and outside of the cheery round windows his eyes fell upon the black stream which flooding into Bag End. He watched himself fall back from the window and call to his family to hid, but they stayed routed to the stop, perplexed with fear.

The sea of black moved with surprisingly speed sweeping into Bag End leaving behind burning land and homes, killing everything and everyone in sight. He turned to the sound of breaking glass and before he could register what the creature was before it was upon let alone an escape route Sam jerked awake, stifling a cry in Gandalf's robes which had wrapped themselves around him in high winds.

 Gandalf looked down at him, sympatric as Sam hid his troubled face and composed himself. Trying to block out what he had seen, his hand unconsciously rising to his collar. He had seen Frodo act similarly to himself and promised himself that he would not ensnared by it the same way he had been, after all he had worn the Ring whilst they were in Mordor when the Ring was at its heaviest he thought he could refuse it deceiving power. He was unaware of his movement until his sharp ears could hear its whisperings; he was alarmed at first. It was calling to him, telling him how to obtain his deepest desires challenging him brutally. Quickly hopping no one had seen he removed his think fingers from around the chain and continued to gaze forwards trying to block out the whisperings the Ring emitted and ignore the pounding of it falling against his chest with the rhythm of the horse' pace.

 Gandalf fixed his eyes ahead also. He had of course seen Sam's actions despite the Hobbits attempts to hide them. His brow frowned with concern. The Ring was consuming Sam quickly at a frightening speed once he had calculated the length of time he had carried it so far. Of course he knew that the Ring would be much heavier as they neared Mordor, but what concerned him the most was not knowing the pace at which Sauron was gathering power. The more strength he had gathered the harder it would be for Sam as the Ring would work diversely hard against him to be in the hands of his master.

 He could remember telling Frodo: "The Ring wants to be found. It's heard its master call"

But time was just about on their side then. Now he feared it was not. He had not explained to the others but he was beginning to fear that they would not make into Mordor. He feared the Ring would betray them; its influence would be easily changed if Sauron had taken a physical form…

 He gazed around the elven faces and suddenly felt a great sadness and pity for them.

They were walking into a trap.

"They caught us unaware at first" Faramir said as they rode towards Minas Tirith. "They poured into the valley and swarmed many of the smaller villages. Many men rode against them despite me advising not to do so. There were thousands, Aragorn thousands. No way could such a small arm as I had could even dent their numbers" he said bitterly.

"They did not follow us after I had ordered a retreat they travelled northwards towards Mirkwood" he shook his head sadly. "You said you did not know the fate of Mirkwood, I fear it has met an untimely end. Unless by some elven magic could it be saved" he sighed.

Aragorn could image the swarms of orcs and evil creatures flooding into Ithilien, the people fleeing for their lives the bravest picking up axe, sword, knife, bow anything to protect their lands or fleeing family.

"I have received messages that the enemy marches on Gondor soil now" Éomer said from Aragorn's other side. "They say Mordor is stirring and strange creatures have been seen flickering about the borders. Evil magic, some believe. The people are afraid, many take shelter in Minas Tirith believing it will protect them from the creatures. I have seen them myself as they passed through here. They are shadows that move and shiver, I have felt their cold and frightening presences, I have heard their whispers which filled me with fear and despair. Never do I wish to meet them again" Éomer shuddered. 

Aragorn nodded, "I understand, I have meet them on several occasions. They are Nightmares, they feed of ones greatest fears and deepest disappointment, if left to attack for some time they will break a person and turn them into nothing more then an empty frightened shell"

Slowly the winding line of people that left Edoras for Helms Deep passed through the mountains. The escort guards continued to cheek both ahead and behind themselves under Eówyn's orders. She could not forget their last trip to Helms Deep when the people were attacked by the Wolves of Isengard, nor had her people it seemed who turned their heads nervously or hurried.

She talked to one of her escorting guards.

"We have found noting yet, lady" he said walking his horse alongside hers. "The scouts say the path ahead is clear."

"Good" she said, turning her eyes to her people. The going had been slow and evening was drawing in. Soon it would be dark and the people were tired, but still she did not wish to spend the night out in the open, exposed and venerable. But the tired faces of the nearest person swayed her mind.

"Make another sweep, and of you have found nothing give the order to halt" she said.

The guard nodded and rode away.

Turning her face upwards to the sky, she could not see the setting sun, hidden by the covering of grey clouds. A chilly wind had grown, the dark clouds above had gathered.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her and raised her self proudly.

To night would not be a smooth night, the storm would break and with it may bring more then just rain and infants cry but maybe fouler and darker things that only come out in the night.

The people of Rohan huddled together and spoke quietly among themselves. Long hair flew and loose clothing flapped in the wind. Eówyn turned her head to the sound of the screaming horses men were attempting to hold. She watched her own horse rear her chestnut head and scream, the others around her joining in with her chorus other puling at their master hands. 

Creatures had a good sense of bad weather and bad fortune she reminder herself as the first rain drops damped her cold face. Around her the people raised their hoods, pulled their clothes tighter or huddled closer together, some watching the horses whine and rear despite their master best attempts to calm them. She watched one couple not far away embrace each other, their heads resting upon their partners shoulder and suddenly she longed for someone to embrace her, to comfort her, to protect her. She wished Aragorn, or Faramir or Éomer was here as the sky above her rumbled with distant thunder. The children clamping their hands to their ears, but that could not stop the rumbling that they felt through the ground or in their chests.

 She heard someone curse and a horse scream, its hooves beating the ground as it escaped, she turned and watched the man call to his horse which had taken flight but he did not follow it. His calls fell suddenly short as a flash of lightening lit the land.

Eówyn gapped at the snarling creatures that approached them, licking their eagerly.

The ground beneath them was slowed their travel. The horses had become too unpredictable and dangerous to ride that they had to be lead and only a few driven by the love of their master were able to remain calm whilst the early symptoms of the storm broke. Aragorn had dismissed the prospect of stopping for rest and sleep long ago, the ground much too wet and cold for any to find sleep even Merry and Pippin looked at the ground with disgust as they pulled their feet through it.

 Drenched with the thrashing rain and blinded by the flickering lightening and black sky they walked steadily onwards, not changing course since the last hours of daylight began to fade. Hopefully it would not lead them astray.

Éomer shivered despite his thick woollen cloak, but he was not yet damp to the skin, his face numbed to the wind. It was an unnatural shiver. Others felt it too and began to shiver and shake some sobbing gently. His horse whined and broke away from his gasp, taking off into the night. He could not stop it even if he tried. He had lost his voice; his mind seemed to have stopped controlling his body. Instead it reeled images and words which has haunted or hurt him.

 He saw Eówyn and Théoden laying face down outside Minas Tirith where the old King had met his end, but in his vision Eówyn did not stir, no one claimed that she still lived instead he knelt beside her and turned her limp body over. He fell back instantly at her horrid, transformed face, which appeared as if had already began to decompose. Her rotting arms stretched out to touch him, but he continued to fall back from her not wishing to be touched. His mouth fixed open emitting a constant scream.

 The sound of blade cutting though air whooshed past his ear and instantly the image vanished and he began to feel his body again.

"Come on, get up" someone pulled him to his feet. It took a second or two for his face to register; his sword which sung again as he swung at the shadows stirred him.

"Aragorn?" he asked, some what confused.

"Awake, my friend" Aragorn said shaking slightly by the shoulders. "Nightmares have tracked us" he continued.

Éomer shook his head, blinking hard. He could see them, clinging to each man, their faces pale and lax, their bodies shaking fitfully, their mouths wide shouting and screaming. He shuddered; it was unearthly watching his men scream such notes. The horses flew around fearfully, those who'd had not escaped stood frozen, their eyes wide and nostrils flaring.  

 His hand pulled his sword from its sheath at his waist: "What must I do?" he asked as Aragorn swiped the Nightmare which hung over Merry's head.

"Block them out, ignore them and free the minds of your men"

Éomer struck the nearest one which then turned to torment him, but he swiped it away, his eyes widened, as like a mist travelling up a river more came lit up by another flash of lightening. He opened his mouth to shout to Aragorn but instead he found himself screaming along with the other men, his eyes watching the decomposing form of his sister reaching out for him to pull him into deeper, darker fears.

The elves leapt to their feet and drew their weapons shaking rain from their blades. Sam woke and shouted, the flaming torches still burned brightly against the heavy rain. The unmistakable sound of metal clashing on metal reached his ears. Someone pulled him to his feet, keeping a strong grip on his sleeve. He did not register who protected him, as he stared at the faces of the thin, angry men that stood over him, he could not guess their numbers as hindered by the dark and unable to see round the circle of elves that had surrounded him. They shouted, and jeered at the armed company.

"They don't need their food"

"Nor their horses"
"They won't be missed by anybody"

"Elf with cranberry sauce"
"Dwarf and potatoes"  

"Child soup"

Sam looked at them fearfully; weapons glittered sinisterly in their hands above the din a shouts and torment and the endless list of what meal he could be turned into he heard Gandalf try and reason with them, the elves gripping their swords, knives and bows tightly testing great restraint as the crowd tussled. Already Sam could see some people had been trampled to death.

"Have peace" Gandalf cried, "We are just travellers we have nothing to offer you"

Many jeered and cried: "Horses, food!"

The fact that they were faced with seven elves, a dwarf and a wizard did not seem to matter to the people who continued to joust and shout.  Sam had a feeling something ill was about to happen, these people were driven by hunger and anger, or could they feel the power of the Ring? 

 Someone broke away form the violent crowd and tore towards the circle of elves, his think, wasted arms once strong and muscular reached out to snatch at Sam fell dead several paces shot, a white feather elven arrow protruding from his throat.

 That was the breaking of the ice. The crowd jeered and shouted, and like a stamped of wild animals they rushed towards them banishing an assortment of weapons seeking blood and meat.

Eówyn snapped out of her trance and swung into action.

"Archers, soldiers, riders to me!" she shouted, checking her other sides. "Everyone stick together!"

 The people began to scream and shout as they saw the packs of wolves hurrying towards them; some began to run, taking their lives into their own hands.

"No! Stay together!" Eówyn shouted as some women broke away. She turned to a rider who had managed to mount: "Follow them, try and bring them back"

 The bows of the archers sung as the wolves came into range, with the next flash of lightening she could see only a few had fallen. He fears of an ambush on the people were becoming a reality, but this time these were wild creature, not wolves of Isengard that the people seemed to think they were. She drew her own bow and released the arrow she had notched and gasped as her shot stuck grass rather then flesh. These were not native wild beasts, she stared. These were familiar. Her skin crept with horror – these were wolves of Isengard. Rider-less wondering the plans of neighbouring countries hunting like wolves would in the wild. These escaped, or were they set loose?

Now they hunted the people of Rohan again.

She reloaded her bow and fired, focusing on the battle rather then the past. She needed to plan, the wolves were much closer now, their numbers not falling fast enough and if she did nothing they would be upon them in a matter of moments, attacking her people, killing innocent lives.

"Riders, charge!" she ordered, "Archers, cover them". A scattered number of men who had been able to mount their frightened horses leapt forward at her command; laying low in the saddle they knocked the wolves off their feet into the air or into the ground. Whilst the archers continued to fire a steady stream of arrows. But still they were advancing…

She turned to her lady in waiting who also like herself had learnt the skill of archery.

"Cyrith, lead the people to Helms Deep, quickly" she said.

"My, lady?" she questioned. "I can fight!"

"No, go with them! Hurry"

Cyrith hurried away calling to the frightened people to follow her quickly through the rain filled night.

"Infantry, cover their escape!" Eówyn ordered taking aim.

She cursed herself, she should have given the order long ago, the wolves would overtake them! Gritting her teeth she realised her arrow and loaded another not checking to see where the pervious had struck.

She was not going to fail her people!

Faramir stumbled and fell; the hold on his body had faltered and released him. Blades were slicing through the rain filled sky, the constant screaming of the Rohirrim and the rain beating down woke him from his fearful dreams the Nightmares had forced him to see. He pulled himself from the sticky mud and drew his sword. He was no longer afraid of them now that he could see and understand them. They were leaches, which fed off fear and disappointment; they would not bring them any real harm as long as you could overcome your fears. He had seen much death and destruction in his life so far, shadowy shifting shapes that reviled your fears were not dangerous compared to hoards of orc armies which could be marching towards Helms Deep or Minas Tirith at this very moment. Deaf to the whispering and insults the Nightmares ushered he swung his sword carefully and confidently across the faces and bodies of the Rohirrim freeing them of the creatures.

I do not fear you, he told himself, raising his sword against one which moved away as soon as the thought passed. More and more Nightmares fell back from him as he began to chant.

"I do not fear you, I do not fear you," he said "Fear will not return here" around him some men began to follow his example and chanted the numbers of Nightmares dwindled and fell back, disappearing into the night sky.

They were winning the battle of fears.

Sam stood gaping at deadly speed of the elves surrounding them. His journey with Legolas had taught him a lot about elven fighting but he stood shocked by their skills.  Five keen eyed archers fired confidently and calmly at the wildly angered people. Despite Legolas and Henduil being mortal, stripped of the one think that made men and elves different they had reclaimed much of their elven skills, their shots did no miss once and the reloaded with such speed any one would miss it.  Aufstand, Gimli and Gandalf were the only ones fighting close combat until the archer's quivers became empty. Sam noticed that Gandalf had not drawn his sword but was using the butt of his staff to knock the people aside rather then hitting to kill or seriously injure. He was being merciful, feeling sympathy for the people.

Thunder rolled over head and Gandalf steeped back from the battle and raised his staff. It flashed brightly over the crowd but did not stop them from their continuous onslaught instead they seemed to glow an odd pale green colour.

Gandalf turned to Sam: "The Ring has grown much stronger then I have foreseen. These people have been drawn by the power of the Ring" he said nodding at those who glowed green, mostly those who where at the front line of the crowd.    

 He raised his staff, it flashed brightly again but the fighting stopped and the crowd turned to him, their faces blank.

"You have been driven from you homes of the growing force of Mordor" Gandalf told them, "You seek shelter and food, and you shall find it in Minas Tirith"

"The White city is full, sir and Osgiliath is ruined" one voice said.

"Then travel into Rohan, the people will welcome and protect you."
"Nay, sir. We fear the Rohirrim and there are shadowy creatures in Rohan, sir. They make us shiver and scared"

Gandalf's staff grew brighter. "Return into Gondor for King Elessar will return there shortly" he said.

The people broke into smiles and Gandalf lowered his staff, the light fading from it, but was caught in the sky in a flash of lightening.

Aragorn was truly Estel (Hope) to his people, the wizard thought watching the angered people file away.

Eówyn adjusted her grip on her sword hilt which was slick with rain and blood and watched the archers now armed with throwing knives or wielding blades pursue or out smart the last remaining wolves. Her shoulders were slumped with fatigue as she gazed around the battlefield counting those she had lost when a guard pulled up his horse alongside her.

"Cyrith and the people have reached Helms Deep" he said.

Eówyn closed her eyes against he softening rain and muttered a thankful prayer.

The people were safe and little loss had been taken here. She had fought well, thought she thought bitterly if she acted quicker more lives could have been saved. But there was no point dwindling on what could have happened.

It was over, that was what mattered the most.

AN: Phew! A lot of action for you there to digest! Hope you all liked it (this is where you hit the button in the corner marked 'Review'). There are more battles to come yet, which I think most of you may have worked out – and yes the story will be coming to a close soon. Another two maybe three chapters yet, you will just have to wait and see!

 Hope you also like me OC's I finding it rather hard to make the whole as I have son many!

Thank you for your consistent reading and interest and thank you to those who have reviewed.

Rosie