Into The Shadow
By The Last Evenstar
A/N: I don't know why I'm bothering with five new chapters if no one is going to REVIEW! Gah, just kidding . . . I'm stressed out right now with exam week coming up . . .
WARNING: Slight Silmarillion references. Nothing indiscernible.
Chapter Eleven: Confrontation at the Black Gate
Aragorn felt his heart turn over in his chest. After nearly a year of captivity in the Black Land, he had never expected to see the light of day again. And now, here in front of him, was something far more beautiful. He drank in the sight, as if his dreams had come true, except for one thing.
She's not supposed to be here.
"Arwen!" he croaked, his voice worn out from months of disuse. "Get out of here! Go!"
She just stared at him, as if frozen. "Estel," she breathed, looking faint. Whether it was fear or desire that swayed her, he could not tell.
The Nazgûl slid down smoothly and grabbed her arm. "This way!"
He was fully unprepared when she landed a drop-kick in his gut and ran over to Aragorn, tears streaming down her weary face. "Estel!"
He caught her in his arms as she collapsed on top of him and buried his face in her soft dark hair. Her touch brought years of memory flooding back to him, and he wept, holding her tightly to him, vowing never to let go again.
Time seemed to stand still, lost in dreams and years gone by, until she was wrenched from his arms. He let out a cry of rage as she was hurled backwards by his captor, an large Orc with fierce scars across his face.
She made a move to strike, but no sooner was she on her feet again than a sword was at her throat.
"You made a deal," the Orc grunted. "One false move and the Ranger dies."
She nodded, dirty tears falling in torrents from her bleak gray eyes. "Let him go!" Her voice trembled painfully, but there was no mistaking her conviction. "Let him go free, or I swear by the name of Elbereth that I'll slit my throat here and now and be lost for your purposes!"
Aragorn struggled to stand. "Get your hands off of her!" he shouted hoarsely. "Elladan, get her out of here!"
The elf started upon hearing his name. Frozen in shock, he had been watching the scene unfold with a kind of fazed interest. At once her jerked up straight and nodded to his archers. "F-fire!"
At once, all hell broke loose. Arrows were loosed and flew every which way, while hordes of Orcs poured out of the Gate and straight into the fray. Halbarad let his Rangers up to meet them, and in moments the clashing of swords and the hoarse cries of pain were all that could be heard.
Aragorn at last found the strength to stumble to his feet, and grabbed a broadsword from a fallen comrade. Ducking and weaving, her made his way to Arwen and cleft her attacker with one heavy blow, full of his pent-up months of torment in Barad-dûr.
He grabbed her, and she flung her arms about him, sobbing, "Estel! Estel!"
He paused just a moment, and held her face in his hands. So beautiful she was, and how long had he dreamt of this moment, dreamt until it became a dream to him, something so wonderful and yet so impossible?
Yet here she was, and if anything in his life before this had been surreal, it was nothing in comparison. The rescue he had prayed for was at hand, and it seemed that finally the Valar were on his side. But something, a fleeting thought at the back of his mind, seemed to mar the moment's perfection with a strange dread; a knowing that something here was very wrong indeed.
~~~~~~~
Arwen grasped for words, but none came. She wanted desperately to tell him of her sorrow, and her pain, and above all of her love, before it was too late.
This is the last time I shall see him, she thought bitterly, and all I can do is cry out his name.
As he tried to fight through the crowd, she saw from the corner of her eye the Ringwraith, who had been previously unengaged in this seeming battle of mortals, heading toward them with a firm, vicious stride.
Do not come between a Nazgûl and its prey. The knowledge was age-old. Sauron wanted her, whether for leverage against her father or some unknown reason she knew not, but she knew that as of yet, the Wraith would not harm her.
It was Aragorn who stood in his way.
"Get back, Estel!" she yelled, clawing frantically at his arms. "Let go of me!"
He ignored her, pushing only forward. "You must get out of here! Arwen, run!"
"No!" she gasped. "He's coming! He'll kill you!"
His eyes were hollow. "He already did. He took me away from you. Arwen, run – give me the chance to live again!"
"No, I can't!" she sobbed. "Please, Estel – let me go!"
The Wraith was advancing, knocking men and Orcs out of its way with the wave of an arm. Its languishing, almost bored demeanor melted away as its fury increased.
She stopped short and faced him, grabbing him by the arms. "Estel. Listen to me. You MUST listen." She felt the tears well up again. "I must go. Otherwise, they'll kill you, and my brothers, and Glorfindel." He looked at her blankly. "Please, you have to listen!" She bit her lip, knowing she had only seconds to explain. "You were right, Estel, it was a trap. And I took it, knowing full well, because of my love for you." She saw recognition and horror dawn in his eyes. "It's all in a letter that I left with Haldir. There's nothing you can do, Estel, don't try to stop me! I did this so you would be saved, so you mustn't put yourself in more danger!"
He stared at her, in horror and in shock. "Arwen, do not even say –"
She cut him off with a fiery, passionate kiss. His lips met hers with burning desire, taking away her breath but filling her with more life and spirit than she had known since he had gone. She felt her heart rise up in her chest, bursting with pain and also with joy. It was vivid, it was electric, and for one moment her whole body and soul were his, his forever.
But the next moment he was gone, wrenched from her and knocked backwards with the sweep of an arm, and she was being carried away, tears of pain and passion pouring down afresh.
~~~~~~~
Elladan saw man after man go down at the fury of Mordor, but still he fought, savage as a Man, through the throngs of Orcs. Adrenaline flowed, vicious and strong, as he cleft foe after foe with his long knife.
Eliminate. It was all his mind knew, all his body did. Each roar meant death, and each death meant victory, as he plunged his blade again and again into their acrid flesh.
He thought wildly of his mother, of her sweet, pure face and golden hair, all mangled and destroyed by these creatures. They had taken from him the only woman he had ever loved, and he would be damned to Ulmo's depths if they were going to take his little sister as well.
Oromë, Great Warrior, Lord of the Forests, if ever I have asked anything of you then grant me it now! he prayed. Give me the strength to defeat these minions of Melkor, your enemy, and save my sister Undómiel, last among the Children of Ilúvatar.
With a sudden burst of rage he struck forth, taking down foe after foe with slashes, lunges, and kicks, all swift as lightning. But what he saw next chilled his blood to there very core, rendering him immobile against his will.
The shriek of the Nazgûl must have been heard for miles as it called the Orcs back in retreat. But clutched in its terrible shadows of arms was Arwen, his sister, and she went without complaint. Blood was spattered on her tearstained cheeks, and her eyes were blank and cold, as if some Shadow had forced out her very life.
"NO!" cried Aragorn, stumbling after them in spite of his wounds. Elladan watched dazedly as he screamed in anguish and pain, running as fast as a broken leg would allow. "ARWEN! ARWEN!" He gasped "ELLADAN! SAVE HER!"
As the Black Gate closed, he collapsed against it, screaming and pounding his fists in agony. "LET HER GO! TAKE ME! TAKE THE HEIR OF ISILDUR!"
But his cries simply reverberated off of the great Gate, coming back to intensify the pain in his heart. He turned to Elladan, his face twisted into the most despairing expression the Elf had ever seen. "Why didn't you STOP them?"
Elladan simply stood there, the scene playing over and over in his mind.
But the face, the agonized face he had seen, bloodied and tear-stained, being dragged off by the foulest of all creatures, was not Arwen's, but the one from long ago that still haunted his dreams.
Atara.