The host of the dead was ready to fight. Once they'd answered Aragorn's summons and followed the three hunters out of the Dwimorberg it was only the Man's commands that kept them from lunging ahead. Now that the corsairs had been overcome at Pelargi and their ships commandeered, the ghosts waited impatiently for the river to take them to Minas Tirith.
Aragorn couldn't fault them for their haste in the matter as he felt it himself. The only reasons why the ships were even moving at all were because of he current in the Anduin and their own rowing. He groaned inwardly as the fleet seemed to pass lazily by the landscape. The only things left of the White City would be piles of ash and rubble if they continued at this pace! What they needed was a powerful wind from the south to give the ships the push they needed, but the weather refused to comply. Aragorn shivered; perhaps the long reach of Sauron could now affect the weather even this far from Mordor. Maybe they'd already lost.
"Don't think that way, my love," Legolas said, suddenly standing at his side.
"How do you know what I'm thinking?" asked Aragorn as he turned to face his lover.
Legolas touched the Man's cheek and gently guided his head so that they could look in each other's eyes. "I saw the expression on your face," he murmured. ""That's all I needed to know that you're thinking dark thoughts."
Aragorn sighed. "I was just wondering if the enemy is the reason for our lack of wind," he confessed. "If he's grown that powerful then all hope may already be gone."
"Don't falter now that we're so close," urged Legolas. "The enemy's not all-powerful yet and there's been a change in the air. Even now the wind that we need is coming from the south."
He turned his head slightly so that Aragorn could see clearly that he was wearing the last crown of Gil-galad. "Do you think I'm wearing this for no reason?" he asked. "The time for the sword and the crown to go into battle again is almost at hand." He frowned in mock petulance. "I most certainly wouldn't put this on for fun. It doesn't weigh too much but it's very tight. I'm afraid it's cutting off the flow of blood to my head."
Aragorn laughed in spite of himself. "Let's hope you can remain conscious long enough to make the world of elves proud in battle," he said. Turning his gaze to the river he sighed again. "I don't see or feel any sign of wind yet."
"It's coming sooner than you think," assured Legolas.
"I believe you," promised Aragorn. "I just wish that the air held something more than a lot of birds."
"Those are sea gulls!" cried Legolas in surprise. He listened for a moment to the gulls' cries and smiled with contentment. "I've never heard the gulls' call before. Ada feared that if I did, the sea longing that elves have would be awakened in me as it was in my mother."
"And is it?" asked Aragorn, a little nervous about what his answer would be. "Do you now long to go to Valinor? Does the sea call you home?"
"No," said Legolas firmly. "The sea holds no power over me now. Valinor cannot offer me a place of eternal rest. No, meleth; all I hear is the gulls' promise that a wind will soon come to take me to the city that I've chosen for my home."
Aragorn wrapped his arms around him and held him close. "You chose this," he smiled.
Legolas moved his head so that their mouths barely touched. "Yes," he breathed and his lips brushed across Aragorn's as he spoke. "I chose you."
The brought their lips together in a hard and passionate kiss. "Will you two stop that?" a loud, familiar voice demanded. They broke apart to see Gimli, who bore a striking resemblance to a mother hen with his hands on his hips. "We're sailing into deadly strife," he lectured. "By Aule, we're surrounded by a bunch of ghosts! I'm sure it's not in good form to do what you were doing in front of an army made up of a bunch of dead people."
"Gimli -," protested Legolas in exasperation.
"Don't 'Gimli' me," scolded the dwarf. "You both should know better. You'll be married soon enough. Behave yourselves now!"
Aragorn opened his mouth to argue but lost the words when a new freshness in the air hit his nose. Above them the black sails flapped and took shape. The wind form the south had come.
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They crouched in the ships as the wind and current carried them the last half league to the docks of Gondor. A rather nasty attack would have come down on them before they reached the land if Sauron's army realized just who was in control of the ships; they needed to catch them off-guard if they had any chance of overcoming them. Of course, no servant of the enemy could harm or hinder the dead army, but the three hunters wanted to at least arrive at the battle in one piece.
"Now?" hissed Gimli impatiently as the ships came to a stop.
"Not yet," replied Aragorn in a whisper.
"Late as usual!" a foul, harsh voice called from a short distance. "There's knife work to be done here."
Legolas put his hand over Aragorn's. "Whatever happens today or any day that follows," he whispered hurriedly, "I want you to know that there's no place I would rather be than at your side."
"Come on you sea dogs!" the voice ordered.
"I love you," Aragorn whispered, then ordered: "Now!" and jumped over the side of the boat. Legolas and Gimli followed almost instantaneously.
The orcs on the dock looked surprised but not particularly impressed. An elf, a Man, and a dwarf posed no real threat to them. An elf, a Man, and a dwarf backed by an unstoppable army was quite another story. The fighting was vicious, brutal, and intense but the orcs knew they'd lost when the dead army materialized from the ships. That loss seemed to be confirmed by a screech in the distance. It sounded horrible to anyone who heard it, but when it was over a strong new hope entered the hearts of the enemies of Sauron.
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Legolas and Gimli stood side-by-side on the fields of Pelennor when the battle was over. Aragorn stood nearby, calmly waiting for the army of the dead to come before him. "I fear we won't be able to compare our deeds in battle this time, Gimli," said the elf. "I lost count of how many I killed."
"Alas, I did too," admitted Gimli. "Let's just say that we both did our parts splendidly and call it even."
"That sounds fair," agreed Legolas with a spark in his eyes. "But I still think that the mumakil should've counted for more than one."
"Don't get me started, laddie," sighed Gimli with exhaustion. "These last few days have been long and strange."
"I can see that," Mithrandir's voice observed from a few feet away. The wizard, accompanied by Pippin, came up beside them. "It's not every day one sees an army of ghosts doing such honorable deeds."
"And it's not every day that one sees a hobbit dressed as a warrior of Gondor," replied Legolas. "It looks like you've been busy, Pippin."
"How is it that Gondor has the armor to fit a warrior of smaller stature when Helm's Deep had none?" groused Gimli.
Pippin didn't reply to either of them. Instead, he stared ahead to where Aragorn stood.
Before Aragorn stood the army of the dead. "Release us," the King of the Dead ordered. Aragorn raised his eyebrows at the shade's boldness.
"Oh, bad idea," advised Gimli. "These lads are good in a tight spot, despite the fact they're dead. They could come in handy really soon."
"Though keeping them in your service wouldn't be entirely honorable," piped in Legolas.
"You gave us your word!" cried the king in frustration.
"And I remain true to it," Aragorn told him. "I hold your oath fulfilled. Go now and be at peace." With those words the army of the dead vanished.
Pippin watched in wonder as they disappeared until he was no longer looking at the ghosts but a flurry of excitement a short distance away. Rohirrim soldiers were lifting bodies onto makeshift stretchers. The one they were attending to now was small, almost child-sized...
The hobbit let out a cry and ran across the field with the others close at his heels. He reached the stretcher just as the men were about to lift it from the ground. "Merry!" he screamed in despair and desperation, grabbing the hands of the small body. Lying on the stretcher Merry didn't move.
"He fought bravely," Eomer told them, his eyes read and wet with unshed tears. "Once we are allotted a hall in the city to use for our honored dead we will lay him out with the greatest veneration. He has earned a place right next to – next to..."
"Oh no," gasped Aragorn hoarsely as he spotted the corpse of Snowmane, the king's steed. Rushing over, he saw Theoden's body crushed beneath the horse. "What evil has happened this day?" he wondered, remembering the little boy that Theoden was when he first met him during the days Aragorn used the name Thorongil.
"What evil indeed?" agreed Legolas in a horrified voice. "How did she come to be here?"
She? Aragorn looked up to see Legolas standing over a body that laid on a black flowing robe. The body of – "Eowyn!" he cried in alarm as he joined his lover by her side.
"She was able to sneak into the battle disguised as a man named Dernhelm and most likely brought Merry with her," said Eomer as the tears finally escaped from his eyes. "She felled the Witch King and his beast with only this hobbit at hand and died for her efforts. I'll have Elfhelm's head for letting her slip in with his eored! I rue the hour she came to this place. My little sister..."
"Oh, Eowyn," whispered Legolas sadly. Was death the only way she'd be allowed to escape the cage she feared so much? He touched her cheek and jaw with the palm of his hand and got a very welcome surprise. "She's alive!"
"What?" choked out Eomer, not daring to believe.
"I can feel the warmth of life still in her," Legolas explained. He took out one of his white knives and held it carefully under her nose. Sure enough, a faint steam fogged the blade. He ran over to Merry and did the same thing. "They're both hurt, perhaps even fatally, but they're not dead yet."
"Get them to the Houses of Healing!" ordered Mithrandir.
The flurry of activity resumed and increased now that there was hope and time was of the essence. Aragorn pulled Legolas aside. "I need to go with them," he said in a low voice. "There will be no healer in Gondor that can provide the treatment or give the herbs that they need."
"I'm going with you."
"I know you are," replied Aragorn with a smile. "I just wish that I didn't have to go in now. I wasn't planning to enter the White City until Sauron was defeated, when I could claim the kingship."
"Aragorn son of Arathorn doesn't need to enter the city," Legolas told him. "Here, give me your pack."
Aragorn complied and Legolas went through it, pulling out the elven cloak and the greenleaf gem. "Put these on," he advised. "Strider the ranger will do just fine until the hour comes for the king to return to Gondor."
To be continued...
A/N: While I'm still following the movie timeline, I'll be borrowing more from the bookverse in the chapters involving The Return of the King than I did with the others. If any of you haven't read the books and want clarification on something I put in, please let me know.
