AN: Aother chapter, and it's getting darker. Hooray! Thanks for the reviews! Love y'all! And what Theoris said about the "implication"... I swear this is not meant to be a yaoi! I am mortally afraid of them! But of course, read it however you like. I always thought Yami and Yugi has a very, umm, uniquel, relationship (kinda like Inuyasha and Miroku from Inuyasha, again, I am not saying anything!). So enjoy, and don't forget to review! Remember, I don't own.
The ancient spirit had never felt fear in his life, in this one or the one long past, but right now he was very close to being fearful. He looked on with grim apprehension at the fathomless cave that extended into the endless darkness, and he felt strangely ill at east, as if anticipating some great doom. The very air of this place was heavy and laid upon his limbs like an ensnaring net.
And again some deep buried memory surfaced in his mind. He saw himself standing amongst a crowd of people, speaking some words that were drowned in the loud noises about, and he saw a tall king stood on the hill before the crowd, a black banner behind him flying. The spirit did not know why, but that image troubled him endlessly.
"What was that about?" The spirit heard Yugi ask through their mind link. Obviously he had seen the image as well.
The spirit stroked the neck of his horse absentmindedly to calm its nerves, before replying, "That was when I first arrived in this world, so many years ago. I chanced upon such a scene, and to hide myself I joined whatever they were doing. More than that I could not remember."
"How could you not know what it was?" Yugi asked
The ancient spirit answered, "I could not speak their language in that time, so I could not understand a word spoken."
"Oh." Yugi said with a frown in his voice. "But that looked like something serious. You just went on with it without knowing what it was about? That was risky."
"I had little choice." The spirit said dismissively. "One move out of place, and they would soon learn I was a stranger who came with little good intentions."
Presently they went into the cave. There were thirty or so riders, no longer the riders of Rohan, but Aragorn's kinsfolk who came out of the north. It was so dark in the cave, and nothing could be seen save the dim flame of the torch that Aragorn bore in his hand. There was a forever whisper about them, murmuring of many voices. The spirit, who was born and bred of shadows and darkness, was feeling ill at this. There was something in that deep cave that tugged his memory and his will, and a great weight was forever pressing down on him.
"Yami, are you alright?" Yugi asked, concerned. "Maybe I should take over for a while. You must be tired."
The spirit shook his head, vexed at his own weakness, and answered, "No, aibou, you can not handle the horse..."
He did not finish, for suddenly a voice interrupted him. A hissing whisper muttered beside his ear, "I recognize you..."
The spirit made no answer, but little Yugi gasped and seemed afraid.
"You have sworn the oath as well, so long ago." It was another voice. "You should not be wandering free. Your fate should be as ours."
The image that troubled the spirit forever resurfaced again, with more vigour and clarity. The mass of noise was clearing into comprehensible speech, and he heard himself speaking, along with those about him. The combined voice echoed in his mind, and the words began to sound comprehensible, "In the name of the Valar, I swear unto you my allegiance. I vow to fight for you against the Enemy of the free people, the Master of Mordor..."
The hissing voice whispered again, "You remember, do you not? You have sworn an oath to Isildur..."
Again the image of the dark-haired king leaped to the spirit's mind. "Isildur..." The spirit murmured. He looked before him and saw Aragorn standing there, illuminated by the torch, and staring into the darkness with keen, hawk-like grey eyes.
"I understand now..." The spirit murmured again. Then with a low but fierce voice he spoke to the shadows about him, "Leave me be and trouble me not! I had sworn the oath without knowing what it was. Do not hold me accountable for such!"
Yet even as those words left him, he could feel the great weight upon him turning into chains, binding his limbs and will alike.
"Yami!" Yugi cried out, aghast, "Let me take over!"
It was too late. In the dark gloom ahead, Aragorn cried out in a clear voice, "Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accurse Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come. I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"
Those words were like a great tide of darkness and fire. Yugi could feel himself flung back into his soul room by some unseen force, and the door slammed shut loudly. The little boy leaped up and pounded on the door of his soul room. "Yami!" He shouted shrilly. But it was no use. There was no response. He was shut in tightly, and can only watch the outside world through a body that was no longer his. The little boy sank back miserably, as a rush of despair flooded him. He was not expecting such a twist for the worst.
The spirit watched helplessly as the onrush of sudden turbulence thrust Yugi back into his soul room and severed the link between them. All around him darkness stormed. He could feel his control slipping, and the great force pulled him ever forward, following the dark-haired men before him. Again and again the spirit fought, pitting his own will against the force that would have him enslaved, trying in vain to break the control. But each rebellious thought was only rewarded with burning agony that taxed his draining strength.
The horse beneath him began to gallop, faster and faster like a swift wind, racing down the mountain-field. The spirit was hardly aware of it, for he was fighting an unseen battle. He almost had victory. He could feel the ancient force slowly diminishing and almost slipping away, but suddenly his horse halted along with the host. They had reached the Hill of Erech.
A horn sounded, echoing down the valleys and caverns. At the grave calling the horn the ancient curse that held him a-sway returned with full force, binding his soul and body alike with burning chains. The spirit would have screamed if he could, but even that was beyond his grasp now. He gritted his teeth and tried for one last time to banish to ancient force from him, and to no avail.
Before him Aragorn had dismounted and cried in a great voice, "Oathbreakers, why have ye come?"
The spirit slipped off his horse and went on his knees. His strained voice spoke and became intertwined with the voice of the Shadow Host behind him, "To fulfil our oath and have peace."
"The hour is come at last." Aragorn said. "Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hole the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."
And behind him the great banner unfurled, black like a stormy night sky without of stars. Still kneeling, the spirit raised his head and looked on the dark banner as his last strength drained from him. The struggle was over. And he had lost.
"Child, why do you kneel before me?" He suddenly heard Aragorn's voice, gentle and stern at the same time.
In a stony voice devoid of all expression the spirit replied, "To lay my sword before you in time of need, like I have sworn three millennia ago."
The shadows about his hands slowly condensed into a long, slender sword with gilded hilt, its silver blade glinting in the gloom of darkness. Taking the sword, Aragorn said gravely, "Then you will ride with us, to battle and war. And take your sword again. I would see it brandished when needed."
The child took the sword again, and the blade unravelled into the darkness in his hand. He spoke no more, and slowly stood up. None failed how much he looked a statue of white stone with eyes of crimson glass.
Four days and four nights, over the ninety leagues and three of mountain fields and plains they rode, endlessly and without rest. On the fifth morning they came to Pelargir. There lay a great fleet of fifty large ships and smaller vessels beyond count. At last battle came in earnest. The Dunedain of the north were valiant and fearless. They pursued their enemy tirelessly like hunters upon their prey. Some ships fled down the river, others were set ablaze atop the rolling river. But the enemy was not idle. They now gathered and turned back, still a great army, and fierce in despair.
But Aragorn halted and cried with a great voice, "Now come! By the Black Stone I call you!"
From behind him the Shadow Host poured forth like a tide of grey mist, terrible to look upon. Yami could feel himself involuntarily urging his horse forward amidst the dead, his sword of shadow in his hand once more. The sky began to grow dim and darkness poured like rain as the spirit summoned the Shadow Realm. The gloom seemed to multiply the horror of the Shadow Host tenfold. None could withstand them. The enemy fled with fear.
A part of the spirit was reluctant to let loose the shadows upon those people. Those people before him, they were no monsters, but living, breathing human beings. They were tall and dark of skin, wild and prideful. They looked like his people, his people that he had loved fiercely with every fibre of his being. Yet the spirit could not do anything but obey the ancient curse's bind, and his thoughts burned.
When the sun fell none was left. All the enemy forces was destroyed or fled in terror. The black ships were quickly manned, while the Shadow Host withdrew to the shore. The spirit was amidst them, solid and tangible in the mass of ghostly grey, though the red gleam in his eyes was no different from that of the dead.
Aragorn came before the army of the dead, crying, "Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur! You oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at rest!"
The Shadow Host vanished swiftly, gone like the wind. The spirit sighed with relish and felt the weight upon his limbs slowly lifting. But Aragorn suddenly turned and looked at him with keen grey eyes and said in a clear voice, "But you, child, I do not yet release from my service. You must come with us, for Middle-earth still has need of your aid."
There was a moment of silence, and a murderous light was in the spirit's terrible red eyes. Trembling with rage he croaked in strained voice, "How dare you..."
But he fell silent suddenly as the ancient curse fell and bound him once more. He said no more, and went on the ship obediently. Yet even then his thoughts were growing dark, and a poisonous hatred and vengeance filled him.