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

Tomorrow will take us away...
Far from home, No one will ever know our names...
But the bards' songs will remain..
Tomorrow will take it away...
The fear of today, It will be gone...
Due to our magic songs...

Blind Guardian: The Bard's Song

Chapter Five. Their Shrieks Shall pierce the Night...

A cry, high and haunting, roused Aragorn from the blackness, a smell of decay and leather filled the air. (Where is the army? The fall should have... wait, there was no fall... this is as Gandalf had said, that that was just inside...)

A large blade hurled threw the air, missing him by inches. The beast he was on, (a fellbeast?!) Reared and almost threw him. He slipped, barely grabbing hold before being flung to the ground.
A hash laugh sounded and another dark beast swooped below him, the rider catching the sword then soaring above him. Yet another beast flew between them, its rider shrieking out a taunt as they ducked just out of sight.

They were flying, all of them... the Nine flew as one...

A shudder swept through him, even as excitement filled him. Flying like this... could they even enjoy such a thing? Another wraith tossed his blade into the air, sharp enough to cut cloud. (Khamul, that's who that is...)
To his shock he felt his beast fly into the blades path, as if steered by... with horror he looked down, his hands held the reigns! As hard as he pulled away, his hands turned the beast into its path. On hand, his hand, covered in metal, shot into the air and caught the blade; twirling it between his fingers before tossing it back to the other rider. (I just... did I just... No! It's a memory, this is what the Witch King did. This is a memory... just a memory...) The wraiths cried out, their eyes alight, diving and whirling in the air, in the air... (Did they feel free?)
Khamul saluted the toss, taking his place flying behind The Witch King, his eyes... not as simple as just fire, but joy, fierce and free was in his eyes. Joy... "...To Minas Tirith... to the war!!" The others echoed the cry, falling into a line behind him.
A shriek tore from Aragorn's throat, such a sound! A sound no creature should ever utter. Sharp as ice and harsh as winter, it faded into a long wail, almost an echo. The others answered with a cry of their own; it burned his ears with its heat, its bloodlust! And above it all was the voice in their minds.

"Forward!!" It cries, "Go onto The Men of Gondor and Slay All who Stand against You!!" So that a fierce pride and joy filled his mind, that he could have cried from the intensity of it. And only after it had faded did he realize what the Eye had ordered. (Gondor... they were flying to Gondor!)
A silent part of him knew this memory would test all his strength, perhaps, to its limits.

I'll keep the ring of sorrow... I'll keep the ring till I die... I'll keep the

ring of sorrow... I'll keep the ring till I die...

Blind Guardian: LOTR

The Fellowship; Trailing the Nine

Faramir spurred the horse onward as the sun started to set once more; the others tried to hide their worry.
They had been riding nonstop for two days now, and neither they nor the poor beasts they rode could stand it much longer.

Legolas pushed his horse to pace Faramir's. "We must stop! These poor beasts will not last much longer like this! ...Faramir? Faramir!"

The steward either did not hear, or he did not heed the warning. He spurred harder, and the horse below him screamed and bucked, desperate to rid itself of the one on its back. Skilled as he was, the horse would not be calmed, and Faramir found himself flung from the saddle and into the Elf behind him.
Both fell from Legolas's horse. Free of their riders the beasts collapsed beside the trail, gasping for breath."Are you both sound? That was quite a toss!" Gimli smiled down at them.

Legolas grinned up at him, "Quite a toss to a dwarf may not be so to an elf or man."

For a moment the dwarf looked angry, but slowly he began to grin until he laughed outright.

Faramir stood shakily, eying the fallen mounts with surprise. "I had not realized... how long..."

Legolas stood as well, his eyes worried. "We have ridden for nearly two days now without pause to rest. The beasts are winded; they will not be fit to travel now for some time..."

Faramir cried out in rage, his eyes turning back to the road. "Every day they put more distance between us! We will never reach Mordor if we cannot go faster!"

Merry and Pippin exchanges silent looks, Merry cleared his throat. "Perhaps... if we..." Faramir and the others regarded him with confusion. "Well, all I mean is... never mind..." Faramir sighed in annoyance and turned back to the road before them. "Well, he followed us... so maybe..."

Legolas turned with a look of annoyance, which quickly faded into a sort of stunned horror. "...For how long... has that followed us..."

Faramir stopped, counted to five, and turned around... (I should have counted for longer...)

The beast in question lowered its head, its untamed mane flew out behind it. It whinnied, a cold sound, the metal bit in its mouth sending froth flying into the air.

"...I do recall, that the stable hands reported an odd beast wandering the fields before the war ended..." Faramir shook his head, "but a Nazgul's charger?"

Legolas gave Faramir a look of confusion. "Than this…?"

"Yes... I remember... when the gate broke, the Witch King was mounted on a steed. After that he was spotted on the fellbeast, so he abandoned the charger!" Faramir eyed the animal with distrust. "What say you Legolas? Is it sound?"

The Elf had already approached. Carefully, with gentle hands and soft words in elvish, he pulled the bloodied bit from the animal's mouth. Reddened eyes watched his every move, wide nostrils pulled in a deep breath. The beast whinnied again, hooves striking the air, mane tossing as it exalted in its freedom from the cruel bit.
When it quieted it stood its ground. Legolas was able to remove the heavy saddle, and black armor from the beasts back. Unarmored, the horse; for that was all the creature had ever been, watched them quietly. It had been a fine steed once, but now its back sagged from the burden of such a heavy saddle, its mouth was cracked. Still, its breath sounded strong... "I believe, he is strong enough to take us both, if we are gentle with him." Came the elf's reply.

Faramir nodded, hope in his eyes. "Are they swift?"

The look he received from the others silenced him.

Minas Tirith; The White Tower

Gandalf watched the sunlight fade, his eyes clear and ancient as they looked beyond the fields. Aragorn was holding strong... as long as he could hold onto himself, there was still hope.
A smile graced his lips, both Mortal king and Witch King had once had strong wills, but the Nazgul's must be shattered from years under Sauron's thrall... surely he hadn't realized the threat that Aragorn would pose. Well, he would learn. Below the Wizard a neigh sounded, he looked down from the tower. Shadowfax pawed the ground at the base, hoofs sparking on the cobble. "Soon my old friend, soon."

Author's note: I would like to thank Blind Guardian down here for their amazing songs that inspire my writing. Okay! Glad that's over:)