Chapter 18
"Who is missing?" Gandalf asked.
Propfen turned to the faces of the other elves: "Aufstand is, she was right behind me" he said.
"She can't have gone far"
"Trust and elf to get lost" Gimli snorted.
"Not so loudly, my friend" Legolas whispered, his eyes still watching every shadow.
"I was just commenting on the fact that dwarves never become lost in the mines" the dwarf continued more quietly.
Legolas nodded, smirking at the memory when Gandalf asked Gimli for directions when they travelled through Moria, not even the dwarf knew the way.
"Should we back tread for her, she shouldn't be that far behind" Aniond suggested staring into the darkness.
Gandalf frowned torn between directions – forward towards the mountain of Fire, or backwards to hunt for Aufstand.
"Let the Ringbearer decide" he said and looked down upon Sam.
He stared back at him, not sure what to say or do.
Go on, with one number less, or go back and look for her? He gazed at the other faces, all watching him, neither expressing emotion and equally hard to read.
Finally Sam spoke: "We go on. There is no knowing what is happening in Mordor and time I fear is against us. We would only waste more looking for her. Aufstand is a seasoned fighter I'm sure she can look after herself and if not… then I will mourn her loss" Sam watched their reactions, they were hard to read but they seemed to think that he had chosen the best thing.
Gandalf nodded: "I feel you have chosen wisely. Come then let us carry on" he turned and walked forward, the staff sweeping light across the cavern, the line of elves and dwarf following behind. Walking silently and carefully into the darkness, into the unknown.
***
"We have no way of knowing she has gone with them" said Éomer.
"I have no hesitation that she has either openly or disguised" Aragorn said, "She would not miss an opportunity such as this" he turned to Éomer: "Would you?" he asked.
The man did not answer at first, and then finally shook his head: "The Ring is powerful and corruptive; it would play on any man's desires. I believe I would follow them some way or another"
"Yes, the Ring can betrayal its bearer when it chooses too." Aragorn said, "It can change its size to fall from the bearers finger when it feels the bearer has nothing left to corrupt, that is how this all started. Bilbo only found the Ring because it had abandoned Gollum, Gandalf advised Frodo to wear it on a chain and Sam too. However I fear Sam's resistance to the Ring, I fear that if Sauron has become more powerful he would not be able to fight its callings"
"Sam's stronger then you think!" Pippin said, and Aragorn turned to him.
"I hope you are right, Pippin. Sam carries the one thing that could turn their Quest into a full blown war if it has not already" he turned and flung his elven cloak across his shoulders and clasped the brooch. "I must leave and warn them" he said.
"It will be dangerous" Éomer caught his arm as Aragorn reached for his quiver.
"I know, but there is no other way. No messenger bird will travel into Mordor under its on will. Do not fear Éomer I will be alright"
"Take some men with you"
"No, Éomer I dare not. All the men will be needed to fight, beside it would be easier for me to slip in alone then with a crowd"
"How would we know when we are needed?" Éomer asked loosing his grip on Aragorn's arm allowing him to attach his quiver onto his back, next he picked up his bow.
"I will take a bird with me" he said, tightening his sword belt.
Éomer gapped, but Aragorn reassured him: "I do not have any intentions of staying there"
In the courtyard Aragorn prepared to mount his bay horse when loud voices and the clip clop of fast hooves distracted him and he lowered his front from the stirrup holding onto the reins in case the escaped horse spooked his. The messenger bird sitting on his shoulder tied to his quiver strap with a quick release knot beat its wings against his cheek.
A grey grand horse rounded the corner and headed straight towards him, his coat glistening, his mane and tail silky soft streamed out behind him. The angry voices following stopped shouting and stared as the horse slowed and walked towards Aragorn stopping at his shoulder.
Aragorn stared; it was Gandalf's horse Shadowfax. But he had last seen it in Rivendell, how did he come here?
Maedd seemed to read his expression: "He arrived just before you did. I recognised him and allowed him to stay within the city"
Shadowfax nudged Aragorn's shoulder, his eyes soft and begging.
"He wants me to ride" Aragorn whispered with disbelief.
"He knows how important it is that you reach them quickly. He will bear you fast and safely" Arwen said stroking Shadowfax's grey face and soft nose. "It is Gandalf's will. Only he would ask Shadowfax to bear a rider other them himself"
Aragorn turned to Faramir: "I am leaving you in charge, Faramir." He said, "When this bird reaches you, you are to advance immediately and if all goes well I will meet you along the way"
Faramir nodded, absently minded stroking the grey horse in awe.
Aragorn passed the reins of the bay horse to Éomer and stood beside Shadowfax his eyes searching for a hold. He did not the grace of an elf to leap up lightly or the trust in Shadowfax to stand still long enough for him to struggle.
Faramir saw the look in his eyes and squatted beside the horse cupping his hands together.
There was no shame in needing help mount and eighteen hand horse with no stirrup, saddle or bridle. Aragorn flashed him a brief smile and placed his left foot on Faramir's hands, his left hand finding a hold in Shadowfax's mane his right resting on the horses' withers, the messenger bird sitting peaceful on his shoulder now settled.
"Tira ten' rashwe melisse ar' quel marth*" Arwen said tears glistening in her eyes.
Aragorn hopped putting his weight onto Faramir's hands and pulling with his hands, neither Faramir nor Shadowfax moved as he mounted the tall, elegant horse that was Shadowfax, Gandalf's greatest and most trusting friend.
The gates swung inwards towards him and with a hard nudge with his heels Aragorn was away towards the Nameless Land, the mountain burning brightly on the horizon.
***
Sam tried to control his breathing, he was breathing fast and loudly. Fear ran through his veins, he feared what might be lurking in the corners of the shadows; his ears listened hard for anything other then the footsteps of the company and the tapping of Gandalf's staff as it touched the floor. So far they had only meet further darkness and earth walls, no enemy had comforted them. The air was still and stank of death; it seemed to unnerve them all. The elves were alert, weapons drawn, eyes rolling around guarding one another, constantly changing formation with military precision. The disgusted look upon their faces had fallen since they entered, their senses filled with the sickening smell of death and dust. Occasionally they needed to stop to clear a path through the think cobwebs which glittered like icicles, and Gandalf would draw forth his elven made sword with long, strong blows they parted, moving gently as if touched by a wind. Sam's fear seemed to deepen as they crept further on, he expected to hear other footsteps or see eyes reflected in the staff light. The tension was great in the underground carven as they passed onwards which felt like eternity. Even Gimli the dwarf who should be use to the dark underground shifted his axe uneasily, his fingers twitching and in the staff light Sam could see when he glanced over his shoulder the shine on the elves well maintained swords, knives and bows. He felt protected, but still afraid.
He twisted his head, his heart skipping a beat and his pace faltering. His hand fell his sword hilt, and he twisted his head again – he could have sworn he heard something. Yet the elves around did not seem to react. Surely they would be the first to react to the slightest noise? Maybe this darkness was making him paranoid.
Suddenly three things happened in quick succession.
The Ring whispered a muttering in a foul language and became warm against Sam's skin, the company turned at the whispers of the Ring, their eyes falling onto Sam who had drawn Sting as if to fight the evil words the Ring whispered as if it was a mortal enemy, but his eyes shifted onto the glowing blade. Shinning like blue flame, he gasped, raised his eyes and nearly shouted out loud – hundreds of eyes glimmered back in the staff light.
They were surrounded.
***
Shadowfax's hooves hammered over the ground and the wind whistled in Aragorn's ears as they hurried east. The messenger bird flapped fearfully on his shoulder in a bid to escape. It did not wish to enter Mordor, the Black Land, oddly the place its carrier needed to reach quickly.
He knew that Gandalf's company had at least a day head's start but they would be on foot from Ithilien onwards no horse would tread in Mordor unless they were breed their like the black horses of the Ringwraiths. How far would Shadowfax bear him? Would the stallion have the trust and courage to enter Mordor with him? All he could do is hope. Hope that he won't be too late.
***
The elves raised their weapons and their bows creaked with the strain of the strings being pulled taught, yet they did not release. They hesitated, they seemed unwilling to fire and Sam could see the strain of holding the string back on Legolas' arm, it was beginning to shake.
The countless eyes grew larger, amongst them Sam could see the glitter of weapons, swords, shields, knives of all sizes, bows and quivers filled with black feathered arrows. But also they carried something that Sam had not seem before, it was unlike any other weapon he had ever seen especially to be carried by an orc, it looked like something an elf would carry. The weapons were shaped like a blade but glowed blue like Sting, but unlike Sting their weapons contained a liquid of some sort, he could see it slapping the inner sides of the weapon. It hypnotized him at first, the clear liquid sloshing; ever orc seemed to carrying one.
He snapped out of trace when one of the elves slide across his view, Sam watched them, they were paled faced and wide eyed, yet as he watched they faces hardened but the colour did not return. He could see their knuckles whiten, and the flash of white of bared teeth. Suddenly Sam understood as it appeared did Gandalf and Gimli, these strange liquid filled, glowing weapons were the things that made elves mortal. How did they know they were here? Yet alone knowing their were elves here. He shuddered; the orcs pressing nearer, but did not break a line as if waiting for an order.
Then he heard it, one solitary voice. It sent a shiver down his spine and likewise with the other company members – the voice was female: "Attack, leave only the halfling and old man alive". The speaker stepped into the light of the staff and Sam felt his voice rise to his throat but could not hear what he had shouted as the elves roared and the orcs charged.
Aufstand stood before them, her hair glistening, an evil grin upon her face.
She looked just like her sister, taken by the influence of the Ring.
***
The black sky above shattered with fork lightening, Aragorn snapped up his head at the light. The thunder followed a second later, deep rumbling sound which made the very ground shake. Yet Shadowfax rode on if not faster then before, cutting through the tense air, the wind rippling his coat and almost ripping Aragorn's cloak from his body, the messenger bird dug its claws into his shoulder fearing it would be swept away.
The horse could sense his masters' danger.
***
The circle of elves held their position guarding Sam their bows singing. Sam caught his breath, there were hundreds of orcs! Each large and ugly, armed to the teeth wearing thick chunky armour which appeared ill fitted leaving great open areas for elven arrows.
The deadly accuracy of the elven arrows of Legolas, Ruzlina and Henduil had not failed yet, and the lightweight sharp throwing knives of Aniond who had preferred them over his poor archery held them at bay, but they could not for long. Closer they came forcing the elves to put away their long powerful bows and exchange for keen weapons that spun in their hands, swords, knives moved in blurs and the axe of Gimli cut down several orcs at once cutting easily through the armour. Sam could see Gandalf using both staff and sword combined, the light wavering at the staff's tip.
Yet Sam stood stock still, immobile with fear and incapable of movement.
He watched the glass liquid carrying weapons fall from their lifeless hands as the orcs fell, the glass shattered upon the ground into very small pieces nearly impossible to see, save when the staff light caught them. The elves side stepped the liquid or jumped several inches from the ground to avoid the liquid splashing them.
The clear note of Gimli's axe changed as it became notched and bounced away bent and buckled on an iron collar one orc bore. Sam watched him drop the axe quickly and twist the smaller hand axes over his think heavy hands and whirl them into action.
Despite the powerful, swift and merciless fighting of the elves, dwarf and wizard the numbers of orcs did not lessen. They seemed to closing in on them.
Hummel, by far the prettiest elf maiden of Mirkwood jumped nimbly off the smooth floor, slashing the throat of one orc and pivoted in the air, sending out a strong leg kicking another crushing its windpipe. The floor beneath her when she landed was soaked with orc blood and the immortal-taking liquid which she like the others avoided at all lengths. The glass crunched under her thin shoes as she spun, twisting her twin blades over her hands and cutting down another orc, its eyes wide and mouth still uttering a note in death. Her vision was filling with anger and hatred, as her eyes fell upon Aufstand for a moment before giving out death to another foe. How could she do such a thing? Her, the King's close friend, never did she imagine this. She had seen hard times ahead but not this.
Her angered filled vision caused to stumble, her foot catching one of the many bodies that lay upon the floor. She lost her balance and twisted her body to roll protectively on to her shoulders, her legs tripping many orcs over. Shifting her weight she stood and twisted her blades striking down another two, gurgling in their own blood. Spinning to her left she dwelt out other fatal blow, but felt the pain upon herself. Pirouetting upon her toe she became aware of her damp clothing and slowed movements before her world became black with pain and the sense of falling came over her. Becoming another body upon the crowned blood soaked ground.
Aniond clawed his last throwing knife from his belt and pushed it hard into the throat of an orc that stood only feet away, its blade raised to strike him down into the darkness and coldness of death. He caught the orc weapon as it fell and swung it in a one hundred and eighty degree arc across his chest cutting down three orcs that pressed around him. He caught his breath, pain searing through a gash upon his side, in the heat of the battle he could not remember receiving the blow but continued fighting on.
Beside him he had seen Hummel fall upon the cluttered ground, he cursed the evil creatures for slaying her, her of such beauty and passion. He could not allow fury to take over his mind, he must keep it clear.
Raising the orc sword to shoulder height he quickly swung it, slicing through the armour of the enemy in front of him. Only spending a millisecond frowning at his misaim Aniond stabbed hurriedly to stop the creature before it neared him, its sword aiming for his heart. He could to stop it from falling, there was no where to move to, the ground around his feet thick with bodies and for the first time he was unable to react quick enough to jump free from the danger.
The glass weapon smashed upon the breast plate of an orc, the liquid splashed up high catching Anions upon the face, soaking his legs and chest.
He closed his eyes briefly feeling the water penetrate his heat and sink into his skin, slowing his thoughts and slowing the blade that swung in his hands. Snapping open his eyes Aniond pushed aside the thought of mortal weaknesses and continued to stab and thrust into the enemy.
Gimli was drenched in a mixture of orc blood, sweat and the liquid of the strange weapons which smashed either at his feet or upon his head and dripped off his brown bread. He wiped it the moisture from his eyes with his right hand whilst his left rapped an orc over the head then before it fell upon the pile of dead senseless then caught it again on the head with his right splitting its skull, the glass knife shaped weapon smashing upon its bearers armour sending another wave of the cold liquid across Gimli's mail. For the first time Gimli was glad he was not an elf.
Legolas cared not about the liquid filled glass weapon which burst sending its contents in torrents across his feet like overripe tomatoes. Instead he slit the throat of on orc and kicked it aside, his blades already striking the flesh of another. His mind was surprisingly clear despite witnessing the treachery of Aufstand, the fall of Hummel and the mortality of Aniond he could still fight as well as he could before, his mind constantly digesting the images his eyes saw and using a combination of instincts and years of hard training to try and keep himself alive. Throwing confidently the blade from his left hand into his right he caught the falling sword of an orc and beheaded then next with one swift movement.
Gandalf rotated his writs and struck one orc with his staff butt squarely in the face, breaking its nose and bursting an eye sending its dark blood over his once white robes. He crossed his left hand over his body stabbing the creature in a gap of its ill fitted armour with his sword, then turned to the next that charged towards him. The orcs were ordered to keep him and Sam alive, but it seemed they were consumed with bloodlust of battle, they charged at him, fiercely, weapons pointing at his heart. The ageing wizard dispatched them with the same aggression they came with, he did not wish them to reach Sam, he would do anything in his powers to save him, anything. The circle tightened after Hummel fell protecting Sam and forcing the orcs to break upon the circle of metal and hatered, the efficient warrior skills of the elves halted their advance.
Aufstand ordered more orcs forward. The light of Gandalf's staff could not see the numbers she had ushered to attack them. The remaining company, try as they will would not be able to defeat them. She felt impatient, the novelty of watching them fight and die was wearing thin, the orcs though a thousand strong could don't penetrate the tight circle of elves. They could not match their skills, even Aniond who she had seen splashed with liquid fought as strongly as he did before. The mortality did not seem to affect him, and Hummel had only fallen by her errors. Her fingers touched her bow eagerly – she would show them how to fight and kill like a victor. All she needed was more light.
***
Henduil, brother of Erbschaft felt his limbs tire, he was exhausted and the adrenaline of the battle was beginning to fade and the pain in his abdomen burned. His hands slipped on the two handed blade coated in blood of his own and orc. Breath came raged out of his lips, his teeth red with blood and his eyes squinting. He had taken several blows from the enemy but held off the worst, locking blades, keeping eye contact they did not see the razor sharp small blade he kept at his waist. A dozen must have fallen that way but now, none ever expected the cockiness of the elf that started into their eyes fearfully.
He looked up at the line of orcs approaching and gave a wearily glance at Propfen on his right side and raised his sword. How many of them were there? How many more could he fight? He was so tired, he wanted to rest, to stop, but retreat was not an option and to stop would mean certain death. There was no choice but to keep fighting until his body, so slow with exhaustion would be an easy target.
Sam couldn't see much between the legs and gaps of bodies that pressed around him, protected him, seeming to ignore the fact that he could fight. He still held Sting aloft the blue flame on the blade not dimming. The steady flow of orc faces he could see rushing towards the company had not wavered and he could see the toil it was taking upon his friends. Soaked with blood and sweat they still fought on, their brave hearts burning, half stumbling over the numbers of slain that littered the ground. He felt his heart ache as he saw Hummel fall and felt the pain Aniond received, splashed by the liquid that snatched away his immortally.
But over the noise of clashing metal on metal he heard something that made him shudder – the whistle of arrows flying through the dark.
Torches had been bought forward, they now lit the cave, some were carried aloft with orcs that marched forward illuminating then circle of elves, dwarf and wizard. The flaming torches gave light that Aufstand wished for and called forward a line of archers, their bows bent with the strain of the strings. The loss of orcs did not matter to her for they can be replaced. Her heart was set on victory, the image of presenting her Master with the One Ring and having her promises met excited her. She would succeed where her sister failed.
***
The sound of flying arrows caused great fear amongst the elves; they ducked down and stole the tall, broad orc shields or breast plates of the fallen enemy. Gimli's heavy hand pulled Sam to the ground as the company ducked some feeling the heavy weight of dead orcs upon their backs and shoulders, felled by their own arrows. Pushing off the dead weights as they stood, they raised their broad foreign shields and deflected the rain of arrows just in time to beat of any remaining orcs that stood only inches from their faces.
Henduil didn't even have the time to lower his shield when he knew his stand was over. In a last effort to forever curse the face of his killer he lowered his shield and stood face to face with the black, slimy, evil and crocked face of an orc, which smiled sickly watching the elf turned mortal crumple to the ground in death.
So shocked were they at Henduil's death that Sam stood exposed, open mouthed staring at the orc which had stuck him down. The circle stood with a gapping hole staring into its very heart.
Aufstand raised her elven bow and released the arrow notched to the string, her target standing exposed and petrified.
Her arrow flew fast and true waking the company with sickening realisation of their error. Sam's cry made their blood run cold. The company ducked under another rain of arrows and Legolas dived next to Sam, pulling him onto the ground and embraced him in a silent apology. The company stood, lowered their shields and fought on.
"Oh, Sam! I'm so sorry" Legolas whispered his hands falling onto the elven arrow which had struck his collar bone, pinning the chain to Sam's shoulder. Legolas suppressed a shudder. Their lapse in concentration could have killed the Ringbearer. His fingers shook slightly as he gripped the arrow shaft which came away in his fingers effortlessly. He stared at Sam's dry tunic, then to his face and back again. Slowly he pressed his cold fingers onto Sam's soft tunic and felt something cold and hard beneath. Enlarging the arrow hole with his fingers he saw the glitter of Bilbo's Mithril-coat and he half smiled, the company pressing in around him.
The mail coat had spilt the wooden shaft which had already came away, but the head had become caught in a link, pinning the chain to his shoulder. Legolas freed the head and unhooked the kink in the chain, but dare not touch the Ring itself; the power the Ring transmitted along the chain was more then enough.
Sam shook his head numbly: "It's not your fault Legolas – I – I should have moved" he stammered still over coming the shock of being shot.
"No, no Sam it was our fault" Legolas pressed throwing the arrowhead aside. "Though we will fight until we can no longer I want you to be careful, Aufstand has joined the fight and her accuracy with the bow is deadly. Even though you where Bilbo's mail-coat it does not protect you from being shot in the head or throat. She would have killed you if she wanted, but she only wanted warn us." He hands shook more violently and Sam clutched them.
"I do not fear death" the hobbit said with such certainty Legolas stared.
Then Legolas shook his head: "I do not doubt you, little friend. For you have seen much in you eight years then any hobbit has in a lifetime" he said, "I am glad you do not fear death, but I fear what your death would mean"
Sam nodded slowly.
"Be warily Sam" Legolas repeated standing, clutching his twin blade in his hands which were now steady. He turned his back to him pushing a space in the circle to continue fighting.
Half of the orc archers re-loaded their bows whilst the remainder stood watching and waiting for the order to load and fire. The orcs had fallen into a retinue which the elves had quickly learnt. Aufstand ordered another group forward as the archers fired, and then she raised her own bow and took aim.
Exhaustion was taking its toll on all the company, the only one still fighting as strongly as when they started was Ruzlina, who dug deep to over come her wounds and nausea knowing full well that their error could have killed Sam. She hated Aufstand with all her anger, it drove her to fight harder and faster, ducking and raising the orc shield ever so often to defend against the rain of arrows. She nearly screamed when one arrow pierced the orc shield inches from her head which she covered. Lowering it and stabbing forward with her slim sword and saw the bright white elven feathered arrow standing erect in the shield – the one that had nearly scalped her. It was only an amount of time until Aufstand's deadly accuracy killed one them.
She ducked again, the whistling of arrows filled her ears, and she raised her shield to cover her head and watched the arrows dent the metal. She watched in horror another white feathered arrow pierce the weakened metal and raced towards her face.
In his fury Aniond threw the last of his throwing knives that he had found standing in the throat of a dead orc and towards Aufstand, cursing her loudly, completely ignoring the hideous creatures standing feet away. His throw fell along way short but that did not stop his fury as he hacked the nearest orc with all his might, throwing him off balance. The orcs chattered and leaped upon him as he stumbled forcing him to the ground already stained with much death.
Gimli swore in his dwarf tongue – they were failing. Outnumbered, exhausted and now lost of all hope he knew they could not win. Four dead, with only Gandalf, Legolas and Propfen left and not enough space to move under the weight of all the dead he knew their chances where slim. His mail slick with liquid was damaged with the raining arrows and the softened blow of the enemy which he could not fully stop. But still he closed the gap where Ruzlina had fallen and raised his axes to fight off the orcs that headed towards him.
He blocked the blow by crossing the two shafts over, and locked the enemies weapon in a tight grip. Twisting his arms over double he pushed the orc's blade onto its wielder.
Another charged from the corner of his eye, he ducked the blow that was aimed for his head, though not quite fast enough. His helmet flew from his head and onto floor of bodies and blood. Standing straight he swung his small axes at the orc's legs, breaking them with a clear crack and caught it upon the head as it fell.
Beside him Gimli saw Legolas' blond hair flash, twin blades twirling and beyond that the stained robes of Gandalf flying out around him as he thrust with his sword and struck out with his staff, sweat running down his winkled face.
On Gimli's other side stood Propfen, the last of the company from Mirkwood continuing to hack with his sword, drenched from head to toe his long blond hair stuck to his face and shoulders.
Ahead Gimli heard Aufstand give an order in Black Speech and the creak of straining bows; defencelessly he touched the arrow ridden shield at his feet, readying himself should he need to use it. The whistle of arrows reached his ears and the company ducked, but none hit the dwarf or Legolas on his other side.
Propfen let a cry of and then fell silent. Gimli sneaked a glace where Propfen was standing, but found instead him lying arrow ridden upon the pile of dead.
Gimli shuffled to his left, filling in Propfen's vacant space and raised his axes to battle his foe, but found his eyes drawn to the body of his companion – too late did he see the blade that raced towards his head. He felt nothing, but only saw blackness.
Sam cried out loud as blood sprayed on him, still warm and bright red it glistened upon his tunic and face. Again the circle had broken. He stared around seeing only Gandalf and Legolas standing - all the others had fallen. Sam gripped Sting tightly and leaped forward stabbing an orc in the kneecap. It roared and fell next to him, its hand still gripping its weapon which it thrust towards Sam. He blocked the blow, cutting the enemies hand at the same time. Bring the blade back he slit its throat and turned to face the next one.
But the orcs had frozen, light illuminating their faces. Sam turned and shielded his eyes from the bright light Gandalf threw, his robes bellowing. He seemed to grow taller and more powerful and Sam began to cower, the orcs retreated.
Aufstand narrowed her eyes against the blinding light and felt the strangest felling of shrinking, the ground swallowing her whole. She drew back the notched arrow and took aim. She wouldn't allow the old man to ruin her victory.
She fired, and the light went out suddenly.
Gandalf shrank suddenly clutching his bloody hand, the staff falling from his grip. The cave fell into darkness broken only by flickering torches. Another arrow whistled and Gandalf felt the supporting hand of Legolas fall away into the darkness.
Exhaustion and defeat set in on the wizard hard, he had no power left and could no longer fight the orcs which pulled his sword from his grip and bound his hands. He heard Sam battle to his left, but he too had he weapon stolen and his hands bound.
His fears had come true – they had walked into a trap and fell for the bait with tragic consequences.
***
The rough arms if orcs held them still as Aufstand walked forward her bow still in her hand, her hair streaming out behind her, catching in the flaming torch light. She stopped short of her prisoners and looked hard into their eyes. It filled her with satisfaction seeing the fear in little Sam's eyes as he shuffled under her gaze. She felt something beneath her feet and flicked up her left leg. Gandalf's staff flew up to her hands, and gripping it with both hands she bought the wooden staff across her knee where it broke into two. Smirking at the pained expression on Gandalf's face she turned the staff end up and smashed it upon the ground. The diamond shape head shattered and splintered under the blow. With a final smile she threw it aside, the wood bouncing and rolling across the floor.
"The tables have turned" she said, "Surely even one so wise as you Gandalf saw this coming? Yet you did nothing. Obviously your encounter with Cassione has taught you nothing, you have put too much trust in others and it has become your flaw."
Gandalf's eyes flickered in the torch light but he did speak.
"So fixed were you on you quest that you did not think" Aufstand continued, "Surely it was clear that Cassione could not do what you have seen alone? She had the darkness on her side but not the courage. Though I hid from view she always needed her sister when the time was needed"
Sam's eyes flickered towards Gandalf who had said nothing nor showed any sigh of surprise.
"Thats right, little hobbit, the old man knew that I am her sister yet he still took the risk and did not stop me from coming with you. Your close friend it seems, has signed your death warrant"
Gandalf raised his head at her words and stared, he tried to move, but the strong hands and tightly bound hands prevented him from movement.
She stood in front of Sam and raised her hands towards his neck. Sam fought to move but like Gandalf was immobile by his captors. Aufstand pulled at the chain and fingered it fondly, her eyes fixed upon the Ring. She held it for several seconds before letting drop back against Sam's chest.
Turning her back, Sam and Gandalf were forced to follow. Beneath their feet they saw the occasional blond, tall figure upon the ground, the only evidence that they had passed this way, the only evidence they had been betrayed.
***
The black tower of Minas Morgul towered over them set in the mountains of Ephel Dúath (Mountains of Shadow) when Shadowfax finally halted, glistening with sweat. Aragorn went to dismount when Shadowfax neighed loudly and began to sidestep. Aragorn stopped moving, his eyes scanning the area hunting for a reason to the horses' fear.
Above them the tower head revolved, grinding stone upon stone, the countless black windows watching them. Again Aragorn moved to dismount and Shadowfax moved uneasily.
The tower above suddenly filled with light, it shone brightly, lighting the black mountainside and beneath them the ground trembled. The shaking became more and more violent, Shadowfax side stepped attempting to find more solid ground. The messenger bird beat its wings to escape as the tremor shook the air.
Shadowfax neighed loudly and reared. The tall horse stood high upon its hind legs and threw his rider before fleeing.
Fear had gripped the Lord of Horses.
The ground leapt up to meet Aragorn as he fell hard, the messenger bird finally breaking free took to the sky leaving its carrier alone and unconscious on the out skirts of Mordor.
The messenger bird did not reach Gondor, nor did leave the sight of the senseless King's body before it fell like a stone to the ground, struck by a white elven arrow from a long, powerful elven bow.
***
Éomer began to pace his eyes catching the window everything he had turned. The sun had not risen. He feared it would not and feared for the safety of the King, the quest it seemed had failed or was near to doing so. Yet true to his word the men would not push forward without the command of the King, but he feared the messenger bird would not arrive.
He turned again, mirroring the tension and actions of the men all over the city. They were restless, the prospect of war pressing on them. The air seemed tense especially now the sun had not risen; more pressure feel upon Faramir, then sense of needed to fight was great. But they could not risk attacking too early – it would be folly.
***
The orcs marched them hard through the dark, bleak land neither stopping for rest or food.
Aufstand ordered them to carry Sam so he did not fall behind and slow them down, cruelly they poked Gandalf to force himself forwards, despite his exhausted state. Aufstand set a cruel fast pace wishing to reach the fortress of Barad-dûr as quickly as possible.
The Ring felt extremely heavy now, and Sam felt it bore through his resistance at last. He felt exhausted and feed up of the endless quest. He mourned the deaths of the company who had bought light and humour to the long hours of riding. Tears sprung to his eyes and he fought hard to stop them from sliding down his dirty cheeks. He felt guilt press upon him thinking none of this would have happened if he had ensured the Ring had been destroyed instead of fussing over Frodo who lay cold and senseless beside him when they stood on Mount Doom. His master needed him, yet he chose Frodo over the population of the rest of the free people.
Those people would no longer be free; they would be forced into slavery or sent to death, especially if Sauron had taken a physical from. Fearfully he looking up and saw the fortress or Barad-dûr in the distance – an image that had filled his dreams of late. But the fortress was missing something practically horrid. The great lidless Eye of Sauron was missing.
Sam shivered more violently noticing for the first time the sun had now risen.
After countless hours of marching Aufstand slipped
into the pack of marching orcs that secured her prisoners.
"You were some what confused, Gandalf
when you discovered Isnegard rebuilt, were you not?" she asked watching
Gandalf's tired face not met hers. "Of course I could not say in Thranduil's
hall the reason, but I can now. The tower was rebuilt as a sign of gratitude
from the Dark Lord to Cassione and I." she continued
and Gandalf half turned to her anger in his eyes. "It was to be our new home,
our payment for aiding him, adding him back to the place where he belongs"
Gandalf turned to her and started her fully in the face: "You are not old enough to remember he hardship and darkness of the Second Age. Sauron will not reward you. He did not hesitate to have you sister killed"
"You lie" she snapped catching the wizards face in her hands causing the party to stop.
"He ordered Wraiths to find the Ring. He knows the two of you hid it from him. You will be killed for your treachery, like Cassione"
Aufstand's expression was hard to read, but she finally pulled a disgusted face and pushed Gandalf away, then repositioned herself at the head of the column marching with an even faster pace.
"You know nothing" she spat over her shoulder.
The black fortress stood at a neck cricking height, looming evilly above them. The bridge before it stretched far but was straight like a stretched snake which neither twisted nor bent Beyond the black iron gates at the end of the bridge the walls of the fortress stood tall and strong, their faces patterned with spikes, pointed arches and transcriptions written in some long forgotten tongue.
Aufstand did not allow much time for their eyes to wonder as the marched through the first set of gates and set foot upon the long, straight bridge towards the feared fortress.
In front of him Sam could see Gandalf stumble in his weariness then dig his heels into the ground, the orcs pushed and poked him, some even raising him from the ground and half dragging him across the threshold onto the bridge. It was clear the man did not wish to step any closer to the stronghold of Sauron, the unwept tears of bitterness in Gandalf's eyes was too much for Sam who had to turn away as the orcs dragged the wizard undignified over the bridge and heard the gates close behind them. He longed to call out the wizard to give him the strength, and courage he needed, but could not find the words to say what he felt the wizard needed to hear.
Sam felt sure he would have fallen as they passed through the second set of iron gates if he was not being carried, again in front of him Gandalf struggled but was overcome by the enemy and forced through the gates which snapped shut with a loud clang snatching away their freedom. The Watcher upon the walls turned his eyeless face at them, clearly enjoying watching them tremble under his glare and overwhelmed by the fear of the fortress.
Through the plain, empty courtyard Aufstand marched, the entrance of the fortress rushing towards them as she began to climb the stairs in which every step both Sam and Gandalf fought against their captors, their hearts racing and the darkness pressing upon their souls.
***
The urgency of struggle seeped away along with the desire of escape and freedom as the dark, hopelessness sense of entrapment sunk into their very hearts and souls. It felt as if their minds and wits had been left outside, untouchable, unreachable and forever lost, to be absorbed by the growing enemy and to be used against everything they fought for and loved.
No matter how long they would spend in the dark, threatening and hope crushing fortress of Barad-dûr, their eyes would never adjust to the deep and eternal darkness of the sunless days or with the pain of having hope and Valar missing from all desire.
The door and corridors of the fortress blurred past them as Aufstand moved with all the swiftness of her kin, turning here and their. Sam could not even feel the breeze of their speed against his check let alone see the insides of the fortress flash before his eyes. His entire body was overcome by pain of the excited Ring, now weighing four times more then it had outside, crushing against small chest, penetrating and Mithril-coat.
The pain and weight of the Ring suddenly lifted, and Sam opened his eyes but found he could not see a thing. He felt like he was underground again, no torches burned, no breeze blew and nothing seemed to stir, even the air was thick.
But he could sense he was not alone, something darker then the whole land and its contents put together was somewhere in this dark room. Something then moved beside him giving a small twitching jump and on his other side something trembled. The tremble spread across from living thing to living thing and soon all three were trembling. He was shaking with fear so hard that he was almost unaware of the fingers that groped his collar and lifted the chain from around his neck. Then he heard uneven footsteps as they stepped over the three trembling figures and with even fall echoed into the distance.
Sam cried and covered his face, cowering. Flames leapt out of the darkness towards him, their heat scorching the hair on his feet and made his clothing curl. His screams were joined by two other voices as the heat increased and the stench of burnt flesh and hair grew. Opening a watery eye Sam saw the twisted face of Aragorn, wither in great pain and on Sam's other side the pale, sweating face of Gandalf, screwed up in pain.
The room was a blaze, and everything seemed to burn, but in between the flames Sam saw two silhouettes masked by the orange and red flickering colours. The slim build of Aufstand and the tall, large, chunky and powerful outline of a second that he did not recognise. The pair seemed to feel his gaze and enjoyed hearing Sam screams of agony as flames swept over him again.
Then it was suddenly clear – Sauron had returned.
Outside the sky darkened and the birds took flight in fear, a blanket of coldness fell upon the world that would be forever dark of no one had the strength to stand up against the enemy – the all powerful Sauron, returned to all his glory.
TBC…
* = Be careful my love and good luck
The story continues in 'Return of the Shadow'.
Yep, that right it's finished for now, Return of the Shadow should be out in January some when, once I've written it!
Don't forget to check out my other story: 'Decisions of a King'
Thank you to all me reviewers and silent readers too!
Love you all!
Rosie