Chapter 7

 Exhausted beyond all measure Legolas and Gimli picked their way through the hostile, dark land of Mordor. Beneath them the rocks and stones spoke in anger and fearful tones.

Crouching behind an outcrop of rock Legolas and Gimli peered at the sight just below them. The orc army was indeed too large to count. A sea of black covered the ground.

"By the Valar" Gimli mouthed, "There is no way we can get past them without being seen!"

Legolas' bright mortal eyes watched the orc army keenly. Something was happening amongst the pointless struggles between the ranks they were being put into order.

Then something very un-orc-like appeared through the great black gates of Barad-dûr. Tall, and powerful looking, his face hidden by the full armour Sauron descended the bridge towards his army who had became strangely silent under his prescience.

Quickly Legolas pulled Gimli back and they hid from view.

He remembered Gandalf's words of movement and Gimli's confirmation that war was brewing. Was Sauron moving his army to the Black Gate to start this war? Was he going to invade the neighbouring countries and claim everything for Mordor?

They darned not to peer round the safety of the rocks in case they were spotted. But from where they were sat they could hear enough to make them worry even more then before. Drums and roars ripped through the air, the orcs were chanting something neither of them could understand and were banging their weapons upon the ground in a frenzy like the night long battle of Helm's Deep.

 The orc army was moving, the loud drum beat a quick march and the thudding of thousands of iron shod feet hammered the ground.

Gimli turned to Legolas: "This is our chance and about time we had some good luck! Once the army has gone we can find the others!"

"I don't think we will be able to march right up to the tower as easy as that" Legolas doubted.

"Don't you? Look for yourself"

Carefully and quickly Legolas peered around the rock and saw the army was leaving no one behind to guard the tower!

Swinging back Legolas asked, "What about Sauron?"

"Didn't you see him?" Gimli replied. "He's going with them. What ever they are about to do he wants to see it done and no doubt kill a few people himself"

"For Sauron to go it must be very important to him. Invading neighbouring countries would not bring him out of his tower" Legolas said thoughtfully.

"What would it be?" Gimli asked watching his friend think.

"What would draw you out of hiding?" Legolas asked back.

Gimli paused to think for a moment, "A threat. Only something I thought was a real danger"

"Exactly!" Legolas whispered, "Whatever is moving in the west has gripped Sauron's attention and set fear inside him otherwise he would not openly move like this."

"Aid maybe?"

"I would like to think so, but I cannot understand how such a large number could be raised to cause Sauron concern. Many lives were lost eight years ago, and a new army can not be remade in such a short time."

Gimli nodded thoughtfully. "That has to be the only reason, I cannot understand why else Sauron would leave the tower"

"Either way we cannot move now. We need to wait until the army has moved away, then we could try and sneak inside."

"How are we going to take back the Ring when Sauron has gone away?" Gimli said.

"I don't know, but we will cross that when we reach it"

Again the mass number of elves, men and dwarves were on the move again, heading eastwards. The number now reached over twelve thousand in total. It was far less then any leader would take into such a dark and dangerous place as Mordor, but the moral of the men was still high and the history of finding victory even when outnumbered was giving them courage. Though they were continuing to understand that they would properly not come out of this alive they still placed one foot in front of another for their families and loved ones. They wanted to give them the chance to live a 'free' life without war or strife. Marching to fight was the only way they could try and achieve this. They were not going lie down and let Sauron run over them, they were not going to allow Sauron to win without a struggle, without a fight to the death. They wanted to live, the people wanted to survive and together, moving as a mass this desire would push them into the thick of battle and face the evils that lie beyond Mordor's Black Gate.

  The landscape was changing around them by the hour; the once green plains of Ithilien were replaced by the broken and rocky toes of the mountains that made up Mordor's ominous boarders. Many years ago the Black Gate was built to keep the enemy contained but Sauron had re-designed them so his forces were kept inside and the enemy kept out.  

 Lord Elrond raised his eye line to the mountain peaks and recalled the Last Alliance's battle within the walls of Mordor, never again did he image he would tread there. Images danced across his mind and he saw this three children running and skipping about when they were very small and his wife laughing at their antics. Little Estel, one of the last of the Dúnedain blessed with long life was standing with a silent tear trickling down his face with one hand placed on his mothers grave. Two of Elrond's children rode behind the elven lord and his daughter remaining behind in Minas Tirith while Estel was lost somewhere.

 He had feared this form the start, now his family was separating spread across the plains of the world he feared some disaster, some fear would drive them further apart and into demise. But the affect was the opposite. The danger and fear of their future being lost was bringing them together and only by a very stern command did Arwen remain behind. She wanted to go and fight but Elrond did not wish to see his daughter torn apart if they discovered the body of her husband. She was of course aware that could be his fate but she still clung onto hope that he may yet be alive.

Beyond the mountains Sauron's army moved with speed. The army from the west were not the only ones heading towards the Gate. Sauron was heading directly towards them.

A battle was unavoidable between the two sides and only hours away would it commence, and blood would be spilt once again for the Freedom of Middle-Earth.

  The drum beat of Sauron's army faded away and with all the energy and speed they could manage elf and dwarf tore towards the towering black tower in a dispirit bid to rescue their friends.

Unknown to them Sauron was drawing his sword against his foe in the Final Battle.

Aragorn stiffened and listened hard. Something was running in the corridors beyond his cell door, something distinctly not orc feet.

 There was a scuffle, a cry from outside his door and a heavy thud.

Then voices.

"Quick get the keys!"

"I'm trying! Hold your horses!"

A knife cut through the air and a slightly distant thud followed it.

"Good throw"

Aragorn shot to his feet – a key was being inserted in the lock!

Nothing happened.

"Try another one"

Those voices were strangely familiar but Aragorn was could not be sure for imprisonment here could turn a man insane.

Again a key was inserted into the door and was turned. Once again the lock did not undo.

Someone sprinted away, and the keys were changed again.

"Come on you stinking thing!" the voice cursed. "Ah!"

The key turned in the lock and the mechanism slid into action.

Painstakingly slowly the heavy cell door opened and Aragorn looked upon the face of the one who had opened it, the keys still in the lock. The muscles in his face went into a fit of excitement and relief and he threw himself around his friend's neck.

"Alright, enough already" Gimli shoved him away slightly embarrassed. "Sam has already knocked me over"

"Sam? Where –?" Aragon didn't even finish his question when the answer cried his name.

"Strider you're alright! Oh thank goodness I was so worried" Sam beamed restraining himself from hugging the man. "Legolas has gone to free Gandalf"

Aragorn shook his head. He couldn't believe it, they were alive and free. Though he did not believe Aufstand's stories he was deeply concerned for the other company and he had begun to fear they had all been lost. But much to his delight he had been proved wrong.

"How did you two make it here? I feared you were lost" Aragorn spoke his thoughts.

"To be honest I am not entirely sure either, but I do not think here is a good place to talk. Sauron has taken an army to north, possibly to the Black Gate and he has gone with." The dwarf said.

"I heard them leaving" Sam said quietly. "If Sauron has gone too there is no way we can take back the Ring."

"That Master Samwise the not the most pressing of our problems"

The small group turned and saw Gandalf and Legolas striding towards them.

"What is?" Aragorn asked the wizard.

"We must reach the Black Gate." Gandalf said. "There will be no victory without our aid. But first we must arm ourselves." 

"What is happening, Gandalf?" Sam asked, his brown eyes were wide with fear. "Are we going to have to fight?"

"Yes Sam, there is no other way" Gandalf said softly, "Elrond has raised men, elves and dwarves from near and far. They are heading to the Black Gate where Sauron will be waiting for them" the faces of the company had lost their sudden cheerfulness. "They need every last man possible. There is no way Elrond can win. Come, quick! Enough talk, make haste!" Gandalf pushed them.

The tower had been emptied save a few lazy guards who had helped themselves to the remains of food and drink. They posed no threat as the slept peacefully beside empty bottles and those who moved were instantly stilled.

 No orc could wield Aragorn's great sword: Andúril, the Flame of the West made with the shards of Narsil and so the orcs had deserted it in a corner where it had become the source of much bickering. A similar fate had fallen Sting and Glamdring, Gandalf's sword they were elvish made, no orc would touch them and their blades glowed a pale blue.

 Gandalf broke a spear shaft of its point and began to wave his fingers hypnotizing like arcos its round edges forging himself another staff. The plain wooden spear began to twist under his fingers, the roughly broken top spiralled and the end grew into a sphere. The small sphere shaped head glowed brighter while Gandalf began to chant some forgotten tongue his face taut with concentration. With a flash that filled the room the staff was complete. The once rough and crude looking spear had been turned white, its end delicately twisted and the sphere head had turned into solid glass which captured a small flickering flame.  

 Gandalf straighten himself with his freshly made staff and as he did the damage and dirt upon his person and cloths vanished. Sam caught Gandalf looking at him and he quickly closed his open mouth.

The White Wizard smiled; "I have healed your wearily bodies and souls and given new energy you each" he said.

 The dwarf turned to Legolas who's freshly cut face and ear had dried over and was showing the signs of healing and to his own surprise he touched his scalp and found it now longer pained him.

 The company hurriedly sharpened blades and forged arrows. Legolas briefly entertained Sam when he pulled out some his own elven hair and re- strung his bow.

"It won't have the power it had before" he said testing the string. "I had to tie the strands of hair together to make it long enough. It not as strong as I would like, but it will have to do"

"Do elves always use their own hair?" Sam asked, "I thought bows strings were made of horse hair".

"Horse hair does make good strings, but elven hair is stronger which give the long range" Legolas replied, "Beside I believe horses shouldn't have their hair removed on our behalf"

At the foot of the Black Gates the armies of the West paused, their number swelling around them. Horses pawed the ground and the mass army stood with a sense of unease. The atmosphere was electrifying, yet nothing stirred.

 Éomer turned to Faramir, the Rohirrim's brow frowned. "Something is wrong" he whispered, his eyes travelling the length of the Gate.

Faramir followed his gaze and felt the uneasy sense growing. Beside them Elrond watched the gates intently, hardly blinking. The Steward watched him for several moments before realising a large number of the elves behind them were also watching the Gate with unblinking eyes. Then one by one the elves drew their swords with long, elegant sweeping movements. Their curled blades shone brightly in the twilight and their oval shields were raised into a fighting position.

 Then, before their very eyes the Gate smoothly and silently began to open.

Men; elves and dwarves drew their weapons and the army of Mordor flooded out to greet them with frightening speed, the liquid in their glass weapons swirling, eager to snatch away the immortal lives of the remaining elves..

 But something had gripped then leaders of Man, Elf, and Dwarf; they seemed momentarily to grow, their years of warrior judgement and courage made them stare into the mad eyes of their foes and still remain calm.

Drawing his sword Faramir took a deep steadily breath and cried with all his heart, "For Freedom!"

 The armies of the West leapt forward running fast, screaming and shouting; with the sound of crashing metal upon metal the front lines of Orc and Men clashed cutting one another down.

The Last War had begun.

"Quickly, we must hurry!" Gandalf panted as the small party ran across the dark land of Mordor. Gandalf lead the way bravely, followed by Aragorn then Legolas and behind him came Gimli and Sam.

Sam ran for all he was worth, the need to reach the Gate was desperate but unless he was carried there would be no way he would be able to keep up with Gandalf and Aragorn in the lead. Just in front of him he could hear Gimli breathing heavily and Sam focused himself to keep up with the dwarf instead, at least then he would have some company.

"Come on laddie keep up" Gimli panted half turning.

Somewhere in the distance the sounds of battle reached their ears.

"Let's hope we won't arrive too late" the dwarf muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear. He could have sworn he saw a strange glint in his eyes.

"I'm not having a pointy ear out scoring me!"

Fighting for family and freedom drove the armies from the West into a frenzy as they battled through the enemy. Mordor had easily twice their number, orcs, trolls and wargs fighting sword, spear, tooth and claw.

 Thrown from their horse Éomer and Merry fought closely to one another, the hobbits obviously height disadvantage did not stop him injuring or killing anything that veered towards him. Through the onslaught he could not see Pippin or Faramir and with each blow he threw he hoped they would live through this death and bloodshed, somehow.

 Weariness and exhaustion had not yet taken their toll upon the armies from the West, the Dwarves still fought with the same fiery aggressions as they did from the beginning, the Elves were still as fast and sharp as ever. Even one who appeared tired could still dispatch their enemy with ease. The mortal Elves were fighting as hard as their Elven brothers and sisters still without showing sighs of exhaustion, and more where joining them. Set several feet back Erbschaft ordered a steady stream of arrows upon the orcs that flooded from the Gate mouth ahead of the battle. In between the strokes of swords and flying arrows the shrinking number of Rohirrim riders charged through the orc army.

 Elrond paused in his fight and gazed around himself, scowling at the young faces of the men who had also looked around themselves. The number of orcs was diminishing and the obviously joy and hope of victory was entering many minds.

But Elrond knew Sauron had not yet finished, for they had not yet blessed them with his prescience.

"Victory!" someone cried amongst the battle as suddenly the orc army turned tail running back to the Black Gate.

From the rear of the battle Erbschaft paused in his steady command and surveyed the situation. "Notch those strings!" he ordered sharply, "This is not over yet."

The cheering amongst the fool hearted army suddenly feel silent and the icicles of fear dropped upon every member.

Over the mass of chattering foes in the mouth of the Gate stood something much larger, threatening and far, far more frightening.

Sauron lead his army steadily towards them, the Ring of Power firmly around his finger.

The army of the West took an involuntary step backwards, their faces slack with fear, their skin pale, their eyes wide, and their mouths hanging open, gleaming with blood sweat and the strange mortal taking liquid that had splashed many, soaking the ground beneath their feet.

Only Elrond and Erbschaft remained focused and their shouts seemed to stir the company from as if they had been frozen by a spell.

"Arches, fire!" Erbschaft gave the command and with hesitation the strings were loosed. Behind her bow Nymane's hands trembled as she took aim. Her eyes caught the steady, fearless and strong face of her husband, and with a deep steady breath she took her courage from him and fired.  

 Elrond snapped orders both in elvish and common tongue which seemed to wake the Men and Dwarves as well as the elves from their frightened state.   

"Reform the line! Reform the line!" he cried. The small remaining numbers of horses lined in front followed by the lines of Men, Elves and Dwarves. Merry and Pippin slipped in beside Glóin and his warriors and in front they could see Éomer and Faramir. 

The old dwarf turned to the hobbits "This is it, my friends. I wish to fight by your side as strongly and as protectively as my son would have done".

Merry shook his head, "Do not worry yourself with us. You have your own battle to fight" he said.

The remaining horse leaped forward, their coats sweated with fear but they did not lead their riders astray. Nimbly they dodged around the battle field, cutting down as many as they could. But with wide, sweeping strokes of his mace Sauron sent man and horse scattering into the air with a deadly force that would shatter bone instantly.

 The remaining lines of Western fighters swallowed hard in horror witnessing men and horses flying in all directions. But still the held their ground and gripped their blades with vice like grips. And with his face set Elrond led the armies of the West towards the advancing number without fear or doubt. Obediently the Western army followed wearing their hearts upon their sleeves and their loved ones upon their minds.

The orcs broke ranks and rushed around their leader eagerly driven by Bloodlust. Sauron let them hurry to their deaths, his cold eyes watching the familiar face of Elrond fighting his way through the first line of orcs beating his forces with their crude weapons.

Rotating his wrist hidden under the metal gauntlets the mace head touched the ground gently turning upon its spikes and with a large powerful stride and a stroke with his arm three of what could only be few of the remaining elves flew into the air, falling upon others behind them. Two dwarves were sent head over heels with his backhand and four men were crushed under a heavy blow Sauron dealt.

Pippin came to a dead halt just as a fallen dwarf fell across his path. Adrenaline was still pumping through him but he could feel it beginning to fade as he watched Sauron advance ever closer clearing a path as he went. He was filled with terror he had never felt before; even when the Nazgúl flew over Minas Tirith and the city was being over run.

But over the dim and screams of battle he heard something very different and it uplifting. It was the sound he associated with Gandalf and hope:

An Eagle cry.