Author's note: I own nothing, I make nothing.

Chapter One. Those that were broken will be whole...

Minas Morgul: Prior to the Battle of Pelennor fields

The tower was empty now; save for two inhabitants.

The Easterling extended a hand, placing a worn map on the table. "The Rohan hold their own... at a fortress called the Hornburg. Uruk-hai from Isengard lead and maintain the attack..."

From the depths of the Witch kings hood came a hiss, "Do not go Khamul... that battle, is already lost."

A snarl came from deep in the others throat; "It cannot be lost! They are outnumbered by the thousands! Those fools should be dead!"

A harsh laugh, like ice cracking silenced the lesser Nazgul. The witch king quieted; his fiery eyes glowed contently in the depths. "Khamul... if I care not... nor should you..." A claw-like gauntlet moved across the map, stopping over Minas Tirith. "Here... on the fields... the blood will flow for us," The eyes turned cold. "On the Pelennor fields... we will end this war. One way, or the other..."

Eyes both clear and clouded shut in silent denial. He'd said the words... he'd said the words that had foretold the war... one way, or the other...

On the road to Mordor

Khamul spared a glance behind him at the mortal king on the saddle. The figure gave a low moan, fell silent once more.
Another Nazgul drew close; his charger's breath passing over them like fire.

"He bleeds... do we stop?"

Khamul pulled in reign, effectively stopping all the riders, though the horses screamed and tossed their heads to run. "...Yes... we stop... for now."

The Nazgul pulled back to the others as all dismounted. The horses went to graze, they would not run without their lords.

"Why... do we stop?" hissed another. "The beasts are fresh."

Khamul lowered the king from the saddle behind him, looking him over thoroughly. "He bleeds... so we will stop for now..." The others nodded, and moved away. Khamul lowered his head to watch dark blood run from around the Witch King's ring. It struck him, it would be so easy... this would never be the same Witch King, but he was unchanged... if he just raised this blade and...

"Your thoughts, are troubled Khamul..."

The Ringwraith turned with a snarl. Ji Indur stood silently behind him. Of all of their brethren, he was the quietest, the most secretive, perhaps even one of the most deadly. For he kept his own counsel, and even when he rode with his brothers under Sauron's hand he seemed distant from them... "You read minds now? I will tend his wound... leave me in peace."

Ji Indur was hesitant; he moved to the others, but his eyes bore into Khamul's tattered soul for the rest of the night.

Minas Tirith: The Hall of Healing

The Fellowship stood around a bed in the hall of healing, watching Gandalf as the lay still. Legolas sat beside him, Faramir flanked his left side. Across from them Gimli sat and spoke quietly with Merry and Pippin, who shot occasional looks over at Frodo and Samwise.
Eowyn entered the hall and sat down with a sigh.

Faramir raised his head, "How is the Queen?"

She moved to sit beside him, "How do you expect, Lord Steward? She grieves deeply… we must go after them, they cannot take the last King."

Legolas turned and looked at them. "I will go to her; the presence of another of our kind may calm her." All watched somewhat stunned as he left.

"…Is he trying to avoid the subject?" Eowyn's eyes narrowed, "We need to go after Aragorn!"

Gimli snorted and leaned back. "Breath Lady, he is still in a bit of shock, let him gather his nerves first."

Eowyn took the empty seat, looking grimly at the fire in the hearth. "I understand that Gimli, but the longer we wait…"

Gandalf moaned lightly. His eyes opening he turned his head, glancing around the room aimlessly until they regained their spark of awareness. He shot upright, only to sink back down with a gasp.

"Gandalf! You're awake!!" The hobbits were upon him. "What happened! Tell us what happened!"

Faramir shot a look at the hobbits before gently lying the Wizard back down. "Gandalf… are you well?"

Gandalf nodded lightly, looking around as if to see they were all there. "… Where is Legolas?"

Faramir sighed, "He has gone to comfort the Lady Arwen, who grieves for our King."

The wizard nodded, his eyes deep as he to looked into the fire. "He is Alive, she need not grieve if we can reach him in time… I fear this could have been avoided…"

Gimli shook his fist, "We will ride after them then! And when we catch the demons, we-!"

Gandalf held his hand up for silence. "It is not so simple as that, Aragorn will no longer come willingly now that the change has begun."

"Change?" Legolas's voice came from outside the door. "Explain this change." He moved from the doorway to the foot of the bed.

Gandalf motioned for them all to listen. "The prophesy, I told it to you all?" the group nodded, expressions intent and focused, "Then you know well of this change, it is said distinctly, that…

Those that were broken will be whole

Their shrieks shall pierce the nigh

The end of the king, at Mordor's gate,

The final, death of light…"

Gandalf was silent for a moment, his eyes misty in the flickering licks of light. "At first, I believed this meant Aragorn would be destroyed, drained of all life, and then cast off like a husk… but that is stronger magic than most other than the Valar can do. There are rules that must be followed for lower beings. If a spell like that was to be cast, it must punish both parties. The Witch King is not strong enough to do that sorcery without consequence to himself."

Pippin looked in confusion to Merry, who was to focused on the Wizard to notice. Gandalf continued, "So, I tried to discover how this could backlash, and I did not find an answer. Until Khamul, the Black Easterling, gave Aragorn the Witch King's ring."
"You must understand, those rings are meant to only be worn by the nine, and when he made that gesture I understood." Faramir leaned further forward in his chair, "And what did you discover? What did you understand?" Gandalf's smile was grim. "I realized that The Witch King cannot separate from Aragorn now and survive, he needs him, permanently. If we cannot intercept them, before they reach the fallen gates of Mordor… they will become one being." Legolas cried a protest and the room grew louder swiftly, once more Gandalf raised his hands. "I do not like it more than any of you, but I speak what you must hear! ...Aragorn will become the lord of the Nazgul. If we cannot free him, he will be lost to us... forever."