The march to the Black Gate of Mordor was grim and bleak. As the Host of the West moved closer and closer to the enemy's realm, the land became more desolate. The plants, trees, and all that was once green were either dead or very near to that point. What little was left of the reminders that Gondor once controlled the land laid in ruin, desecrated by the orcs a long time ago. Spread all across the ground were the bones of animals, orcs, and some that looked disturbingly like those of elves, dwarves, and Men.
Still the army moved ahead, led by Rohan's new King Eomer (with Merry in the saddle behind him), Mithrandir (accompanied by Pippin), Legolas and Gimli, again riding the faithful Arod, and Aragorn on Hasufel. Legolas couldn't keep his eyes off of his lover. Gone were the man's weather-stained ranger gear; he now wore fresh clothing that befit his yet-unclaimed title of King of Gondor, complete with a leather tunic that bore an image of the White Tree. The only things from the journey that made the transition to his new attire were Boromir's gauntlets and the greenleaf gem at his neck.
'Any who see him now couldn't deny that he is indeed the king returned,' thought Legolas proudly. 'As they shouldn't; he will be the King of Gondor.' He kept that belief firmly in his mind. No time or energy could be spent on doubt anymore. To have the strength of mind to march to the Black Gate he had to believe that everything he fought for would come into being.
"We should take a rest here," suggested Eomer, jarring the elf from his revelry. "We're almost upon the land of Mordor now. Let's give the men one last chance to gather their strength and wits. They'll need to be as fresh as possible in both body and mind if they're going to do battle at Sauron's front door."
"Halt!" called out Aragorn. The host stopped dead, looking most relieved to be stopped in their tracks. "We will take a brief rest here to get our bearings. If there is anything that you must do, be swift! Our destination is not far off." He sighed and turned to his companions. "And my heart forebodes that time is something we are very quickly running out of," he concluded in a lower voice.
"Aye," agreed Gimli brashly. "But it's not gone just yet."
"So Aragorn," said Mithrandir as he helped Pippin down from his perch on Shadowfax's back. "This land was once a part of the realm of Gondor, before the shadow claimed it. If all comes to pass as we would have it, this will become part of the realm again under your rule."
"Lucky you," Eomer noted. "This place reeks of orc and death. It will take years for it all to be cleansed."
"Perhaps the parts so close to the Black Lands such as this," said Legolas. No one dared to speak the name of Mordor when they were so near to it. "The areas closer to Minas Tirith just need some work by those who know what they're doing. Once the war is over, I'm sure that my father can spare some of the elves of his realm to bring life back into the things that grow."
"There's a lot of good stonework too," added Gimli. "So strong and sturdy that not even years of malice under the orcs could wholly destroy it. The labors of a few skilled dwarves would do wonders in bringing it back to its original glory."
"And the Men of the land would repair the roads and rebuild homes," mused Aragorn. "I like the sound of that. A land rebuilt with the combined efforts of elves, Men, and dwarves would be a place that any king would be proud to name as part of their kingdom."
"Hey!" cried Merry indignantly. "Don't you think hobbits should do something too? That way all of the peoples – and all of the fellowship – will be represented."
"And what do you think that hobbits should contribute, young Meriadoc?" asked Mithrandir with a raise of his bushy eyebrows.
Merry waved his hand dismissively. "That's obvious."
"Is it now?"
"Of course," piped in Pippin. "Pipe-weed! We'll plant some of our best herbs here and show the Men how to tend to them properly. After all, we can't leave Strider stuck here so far away from anything good to put in his pipe."
"That would truly made it a paradise," chuckled Aragorn. The others joined in his laughter for a few seconds. "So," he continued as the noise died away, "how long did that take our mind off of matters?"
"A couple of minutes, I'd wager," guessed Gimli.
"Amazing," commented Merry.
"That the longest I've gone without thinking about what lies ahead," added Pippin. "I even got a break from fighting the urge to scream."
"I fear that it's now time to come back to reality," sighed Aragorn. "Eomer, rally the Rohirrim. Mithrandir, do the same with the Gondorians."
"Why don't you just tell them who you really are and officially take command?" Merry asked him after the king and wizard left. "I'll bet anything that most, if not all, of the soldiers from Gondor already guessed anyway."
"Yeah," agreed Pippin. "You should have heard them talking in Minas Tirith. Everyone knows how you healed Merry and everybody else and apparently there's a saying that the hands of the king are the hands of a healer."
"That's what Ioreth kept saying in the Houses of Healing," interjected Merry. "She said she never would have believed that a man could be a warrior and healer both before she saw what you could do."
"They don't think that anyone except the King of Gondor could wear an elf gem like you have," continued Pippin, pointing at the greenleaf gem. "They've been calling you the Lord Elfstone, or the Lord Elessar; been saying that these lands are being reclaimed in the name of King Elessar. So if they're marching in your name anyway, why not just take up the title?"
"I thank you two for your votes of confidence," said Aragorn. "But I cannot take on the mantle of king until Isildur's mistake has been rectified."
"And that's just what were going to do," sighed Gimli. "Funny how all conversations lead back to that fact – and that field of battle."
"To the field of battle where the Last Alliance fought at the end of the Second Age," said Legolas slowly, trying to take it all in.
"Really?" asked Pippin. "The exact place where Elrond and Isildur and all them fought and the ring got cut off and everything?"
The elf nodded. "My father fought there too," he said soberly. "My grandsire died there."
"And now we go to finish that fight," said Aragorn grimly. "Let's do it right this time so that at the end of the Fourth Age our descendants won't be sitting here, discussing how they must now continue the fight because of our follies."
Mithrandir and Eomer returned. "All is ready," Eomer reported. "The men will be ready to move on in a few minutes."
"Come Gimli," said Legolas, trying to sound like there was absolutely nothing to worry about. "Let's get back to Arod." His face clouded over when he mentioned the horse's name. "I think we should turn the horses loose before the battle begins. Let them go to the field of Cormallen. That way they won't be too far off if we win and will have enough of a head start if-"
He clapped his hand over his mouth, horrified at what he almost said. Aragorn laid his own hand on the elf's before taking it and squeezing gently, comfortingly. "That's a good idea, meleth," he agreed softly. "In any case, I don't think that any horse save perhaps Shadowfax could endure anything that will come out of the Black Land."
"But –" Merry's voice faltered for a moment. He took a deep breath and started again. "But there's still hope, isn't there?"
Mithrandir and Pippin exchanged a knowing glance. "A fool's hope," said the hobbit with a wistful smile. "Just a fool's hope."
"Thank the Valar that fools hope then," asserted Aragorn as he slipped an arm around Legolas' waist. "So many wonderful things have happened all because fools dare to hope."
Legolas leaned into Aragorn. "I would rather go into this battle with one person's foolish hope than all the cold logic and despair that those considered 'wise' can give."
They stood there in silence for a moment longer. "Well," Mithrandir finally spoke up. "It is time."
Each of them walked back to their horses with their heads held high except for Aragorn and Legolas. They lingered for a bit longer. "I –" started Aragorn, but emotion choked his voice, stopping him from continuing.
Legolas smiled and joined their lips in a desperate kiss. He pressed himself against the Man, letting out a muffled cry of passion as Aragorn massaged and caressed his tongue with his own. Aragorn had his arms wrapped around his body, trying to pull the elf even closer. Neither cared that every soldier could see their very public display of affection. Both knew very well that this could be their last kiss and they wanted to put a lifetime of love and desire into it.
The kiss finally ended, but they didn't bother to break apart just yet or even move their lips away. "I love you," breathed Aragorn, his mouth brushing Legolas' with every word.
"I love you too," Legolas told him. "In this world and whatever lies beyond, my love will always be yours as long as I am able to give it."
With those last vows, they reluctantly broke apart, holding hands as they walked back to where the horses stood side-by-side. The others had already mounted, so with one last squeeze they did the same. "Men!" shouted Aragorn to the Army of the West. "We move forward!"
"This is it," Mithrandir said in a low voice as they led the army across the final leagues to Mordor. "We've all been on paths, through light, darkness, wilderness, and war, that have led us to this moment."
A cry ran through the host as the Black Gate came into view. The final stage of the quest was at hand.
To be continued...
A/N: Wow! I'm very flattered by all the response I've been getting to the question about a sequel. Thank you for all of your encouragement! I am going to write one, even though I most likely won't be able to update it as fast as I have on this one (classes start next week, hopefully I'll be employed by then, and I'm working on two other stories at different levels of diligence). I'll aim to make the postings a weekly thing and hope to have a chapter up within a week or two of the ending of this story (barring any trouble with the plot bunnies).
