Part 8:
Princess Eowyn slowly returned to consciousness by the constant dull ache of pain in her battered body. For a moment she was disorientated. Where was she? What had happened? Then memory returned and with it a deeper, worse kind of pain than the one in her body. Her uncle, Theoden, was dead. She had witnessed it, a terrible sight that would haunt her forever. Her eyes focused on the wooden beams of the house above the bed she lay in and tears began to run down her cheeks; tears of relief as it became apparent from her peaceful state that the battle had been won and tears of grief at the loss she had suffered.
"You will make a full recovery," a kind voice said next to her and she turned her head and saw Aragorn sitting by her bedside, finishing the bandage on her right arm and living up to his reputation as an excellent healer. She looked around and saw that she was in a healing house and from the coat of arms on the walls showing the White Tree of Gondor she knew it had to be one of Minas Tirith's houses. From the high standard and fine detail of the woodwork and the beds she guessed it was one of the finest healing houses in the capital.
"Is my brother well?" She asked, trying to control her fear as she forced her tears and her grief for her uncle away. Aragorn nodded reassuringly and gently laid her right hand down beside her body as he was finished bandaging it. She noticed she had been washed and dressed in a fine and warm long white nightdress and she had had all her wounds bandaged. She spotted Ororo walking between the beds, helping with the wounded. She had her right arm in a slide as a testament to her injured right shoulder, which was also bandaged. Despite the serious and sad situation Ororo held a special glow in her eyes and a small smile on her lips as she on occasion cast looks towards Legolas who was apparently waiting for Aragorn to finish up and return to debating what was next for the armies who had joined forces against Sauron. Like her, Aragorn and Ororo had also washed and changed clothes and both Legolas and Aragorn were unarmed out of respect of the wounded in the healing house, having left their weapons in the small entrance hall to the house.
"Your brother fares well," Aragorn answered her question and her most pressing fear dissolved.
Assured by his words more details returned to her and she grew concerned again, "And how fares Merry?" She remembered him from the battle; brave and strong, loyal till the end…she didn't recall him having ever left her side.
"Boromir found him guarding you and brought you both to safety. After the battle we brought you and other high ranking officials to this," with a hand Aragorn indicated the healing house, "the healing house attached to the palace. Merry is here, in the bed to your left." Eowyn turned her head and saw that Merry was indeed sleeping peacefully beside her. She smiled at seeing him well and safe. "He will make a full recovery within a few days."
Assured and suddenly feeling very drained Eowyn relaxed her body back on the bed. "What news do the reports from the battle say?"
Aragorn grew serious and a sad look was in his eyes as he was reminded of the enemy they still hadn't defeated and the losses they had suffered. "We suffered great losses all around. Our army is down to half its original size and about half of those left alive are injured and will be unable to fight in another battle for quite some time. I had to release the Oath Breakers as they had fulfilled their vow to me. The ghosts Boromir, Logan and Rogue brought with them cannot come any closer to Mordor than Minas Tirith. They tried to get closer but the evil of the place destroys them. Furthermore them taking on spiritual form drains them and thus they have by now all left for the Undying Lands," Aragorn explained, remembering the warm farewell that the Elven leader of the ghosts had gotten from them all, but especially from Boromir, Logan and Rogue who had come to know him well and had taken an instant liking to the brave Elven soldier. The Elven commander himself had not been sad to leave, on the contrary he had been eager to do so when he had found out that his lover had been slain in battle and was now awaiting him in the Undying Lands. Like his friends Aragorn had felt better about seeing yet another ally disappear now that he knew he was going to join a loved one who he had longed to be reunited with for so many years.
"I was surprised, though happily so, that their spirits had lingered here and were willing to help us," Eowyn said, trying to distract herself from the pains and aches of her body by talking with Aragorn. Ever perceptive he saw the small signs of her discomfort and took a glass from the small bedside table that stood between her own and another bed wherein she could see a young man lying, his face turned away from her.
"Drink this. It will help with the pain," Aragorn said softly and gently helped her by holding her head as he assisted her in drinking. As he put the glass back he answered her silent question. "Galadriel had seen that a dark future where their help would be needed could arise and an army of warriors swore that they would remain here until they had assisted their descendants. Now, they have done so and have left to claim their rightful place of honour in the Undying Lands."
"I see," Eowyn mumbled and felt her eyelids grow heavy and her speech slurry. The drink hadn't just eased her pain but aided sleep.
Aragorn looked sad and uncomfortable for a moment before he spoke again. "Of the command team we not only lost your uncle but also Scott."
A wave of grief washed over her and she permitted tears to fall though fought to keep her dignity. She could have loved that man. Despite her uncle and brother's warnings then she knew…she could have loved him. "He was a great man and a fine leader. He will be missed," she said softly, fighting to get her emotions under control. Everyone she loved ended up dead. So many people dead…so much fighting. Would it ever end?
"He will," Aragorn agreed, his own grief clear in his voice. He had respected Scott. He had been a good leader and a good man and shared hardships during battle had created a bond between them despite their original differences. He would indeed be missed.
"Aragorn, we must leave now. The others are awaiting us," Legolas said softly and lay a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. Looking at Legolas he looked better, stronger, calmer…happier than Eowyn had seen him in a long time and she knew then that everything was all right between Ororo and him. Though she wished them happiness their joy was painful to her when she was in mourning and she turned her head away from him, facing the young man in the bed beside hers instead.
Aragorn gently touched her bandaged arm before he rose and left with Legolas, their footsteps fading away. For a long while she stared at the wall at the far end, over all the beds, her eyes blurry with tears. Finally she fell into an exhausted but deep sleep.
"Boromir!" The happy cry awoke Eowyn from her sleep and she blinked and saw the young man in the bed beside hers try to sit up. He was a mess of bruises and bandages and had obviously had a much worse battle than she had. She expected she could be released from the healing house within a week's time while the young man looked like he would have to stay here for at least a month more; probably longer.
"My sweet Faramir," Boromir said gently as he came to sit by his little brother's bedside, his eyes and face alight with warmth. He had washed and changed into regal clothes in strong and clear colours, looking like a King. So, this young man was Faramir, Boromir's beloved little brother. Interested Eowyn watched the two brothers as Faramir tried to sit up but lacked the strength and Boromir gently assisted him, rearranging pillows. There was no doubt that Boromir was used to looking out for his brother, his actions spoke of years of caring for a brother who she guessed had grown to be loved as deeply as if he was a son instead of a brother, holding within that love a sense of pride, responsibility and duty.
"Thank you," Faramir smiled his thanks and Boromir nodded before he grew grim.
"I visited you two times earlier but you were not awake yet and Aragorn bid me wait and let you sleep the worst of the pain away. However now that you have awaken you need to know what happened to our father."
At the mention of him Faramir got a scared look in his eyes and Boromir instinctively reassured him. "You need not worry. He will do you no harm…he cannot, not any longer."
Faramir smiled his thanks. "You would have protected me as always." It was a statement of fact and nothing else.
"Faramir," Boromir said seriously, "our father is dead." He was about to admit that he had been forced to kill him but decided Faramir did not need to know that; it would be a burden he did not have to carry contra Boromir himself who was haunted by his deed, necessary as he had felt it had been.
A hint of grief flashed through Faramir's eyes. "I'm saddened. He was an unhappy man."
"After everything he put you through…I am amazed by your power to love and forgive," Boromir said softly. "I am not sure I feel as gracious."
"Hate will only make you a prisoner or a slave," Faramir said and Boromir smiled.
"More Elven philosophy, brother?"
Apparently an old joke between them, Faramir simply smiled. Eowyn was intrigued by the easy and deeply affective relationship between the brothers and decided that Faramir wasn't just a handsome man but also a sensitive and deep one. She lay still and listened to what else there was being said, feeling she was getting to know these two men in a way no one else would. She knew that she really should let them have their privacy but her fascination and curiosity won over her sense of common courtesy.
"You know what father's death means," Boromir grew serious again. Faramir nodded as he sobered.
"You are the new steward," Faramir acknowledged. He made an attempt of a bow while sitting in bed to make up for the kneeling position tradition dictated he should take but his injuries prevented even this so instead he bowed his head towards his brother as he added, "With my life or death I shall serve you until your last breath. Long live the new steward of Gondor, Boromir." With the old vow he also promised that he, as another son of the late steward, would not try to claim the throne. Faramir had never wanted leadership and was content to let his brother rule.
"Please…do not do that," Boromir asked and shook his head. "I know I ask a lot when I ask this but I ask you to take the title as steward when I die."
Faramir looked shocked. "You cannot die!" he protested, the fear clear in his voice.
Boromir calmed him by gently holding his right hand, careful of all his injures. "If all goes well the Ring will be destroyed and with it me. If all falls…those left alive would wish for death," he ended darkly, a haunted look in his eyes as memories of his torture at Phoenix's hands returned to him. That wasn't even half of what he was sure he could expect if Sauron won.
"Noo…noo," Faramir protested to such a dark future, tears now appearing in his eyes. "I will not accept such options."
"I'm afraid you have no choice," Boromir said seriously. "When I am gone then claim your right as steward until the time when Aragorn decides it is time for his official coronation. Then hand all power over to him. You will find him a fair and good master. He will lead Gondor kindly and justly."
Faramir fought to control his grief. He felt cheated. This was so unfair. He couldn't lose his brother again. It wasn't fair that he should die for doing what was right; choosing good instead of evil. It simply wasn't fair! "As you wish," Faramir got out, forcing his tears and pain back.
Clearly saddened by his brother's distress Boromir stroked Faramir's cheek as he added, "Cheer up. I am not gone yet. Who knows? Phoenix could have been mistaken." Even Eowyn who didn't known Boromir as well as his brother did could tell Boromir did not believe his own words and Faramir didn't either but he desperately wanted to and thus he took the only hope he could get.
"Yes. Of course," Faramir forced the words out and for a while neither brother spoke. Finding the silence too painful Boromir rose. "I must return to the council chambers. We need to debate our next move." He looked at his brother who looked so young and vulnerable lying in the big bed all wrapped up in bandages and bonds around his broken and abused body. His eyes lingered at Merry's even smaller and even more fragile looking body in the big bed beside Eowyn. "Take care of the Little Ones," he asked softly and it was clear that what he hadn't said was still hanging in the air between them…take care of the Little Ones…when I am gone and can no longer do so.
"I will," Faramir promised. Caught up in emotions too strong to express Boromir turned to leave. "Brother?" Faramir soft plea brought him to a hold and Boromir turned to look at him. The look of fear, love and pain in Faramir's eyes broke him and he returned to Faramir's bedside in two large strikes. "Take care, my brother," Faramir asked and reached up his arms as his big brother willingly let himself be embraced. They hung to each other as for dear life; both thinking this could be their final farewell. Finally, reluctantly Boromir drew back. With a gentle hand on each side of Faramir's face he said, "You lived in my heart from the day you were born and will do so to the day I die. Having you for a brother made my life worthwhile."
Faramir blushed and looked down before his eyes again found his brother's. "You always were and always will remain my brother and my hero. You will live in my heart always." Words were poor to convey all they felt. Growing up it had been them against the world and even now that bond still held. Boromir drew back and clasped Faramir's arm in a warrior's greeting, careful not to press too hard on his brother's wounded and bandaged flesh. "Goodbye, my brother. Find happiness," Boromir wished and Faramir forced a smile through the lump in his throat.
"Peace, my brother." It was the one thing that had always seemed to escape him and the one wish that said more than any other word. Boromir nodded and their hands fell apart as Boromir walked away. Walking out of the healing house he stopped at Merry's bedside and softly kissed the sleeping Hobbit's forehead as a father would a child and stroked his hair before he left the building, never looking back yet somehow aware that his brother's eyes were following him all the way, desperate to see as much of him as he possible could.
Exhausted and pained Faramir fell back against the pillows. For a while he stared up into the ceiling, his thoughts blank. Then tears began to fall and he turn on his side…coming face to face with Eowyn's open and sympathetic face. Unashamed by his tears their eyes met and Eowyn smiled reassuringly. Wordlessly she stretched out her own bandaged hand towards him and he caught it and held it in his own bandaged one. They smiled at each other, finding comfort in the simple touch and each other in the middle of their grief. A feeling of peace and acceptance settled over them both as Faramir finally felt like he had found a woman who would respect and understand him for being who he was, a man, a poet, a writer, a scholar and only ever a warrior if he had no other choice while Eowyn felt like she had finally found someone who would respect her and treat her like an equal. A man who was not afraid to feel, not afraid to show he had weaknesses or to ask for help when needed. Tired beyond words they fell asleep, their hands still linked and a small smile around their lips; bringing hope of a light in the darkness to the young mortals.
"We have to think this through," Eomer warned from where he was sitting at the large table in the banquet hall of Minas Tirith's palace. Almost all the members of the command team had gathered to discuss their next move and ideas and tempers were running high.
"If Frodo fails then this victory would have been meaningless," Gandalf warned.
"Of that we can all agree," Boromir injected in a respectful tone to the old wizard who sat beside him. Though he knew the destruction of the Ring most likely would mean his own destruction as well Boromir was fighting to archive that goal, pushing his own fears to the back of his mind and instead focussing on his brother, the Little Ones, Gondor itself who would be ruined if Sauron would emerge the victor. Still, at times it was hard to keep his thoughts from wandering and he did, like any other man, fear death. However it was a weakness he refused to think about, refused to let control his actions. Faramir had once told him that a poet had written that courage was not the absence of fear but doing the right thing despite being afraid. Back then he hadn't believed those words, so used to his father and everyone else expecting him to show no fear at all but Boromir chose now to believe those words and no longer saw his fear as a weakness.
Besides Eomer, Gandalf and Boromir the command team gathered counted Haldir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Logan and Rogue. The other members were either in sickbay or had been slain in battle and the sight of empty chairs for Scott and Theoden clouded the meeting in sorrow.
"We need to act NOW!" Logan insisted hotly and slammed his fist onto the table for good measure. Though they had been far apart in temperament Scott had become a friend; a comrade he had trusted and his death fuelled Logan's rage. Rogue placed a calming gloved hand on Logan's hand, squeezing his fingers and smiling encouragingly to him. Without Scott to balance out Logan's hot temper she was all that held him back from jumping into any situation head first, asking questions later. She had cried for Scott in Logan's embrace and his death had placed a sad and haunting look on her face. She had never lost anyone before. Unlike Logan who had been a soldier, who remembered bits and pieces of people, memories and things that had been taken from him she had never felt any great loss. Somehow she had just thought that her friends could not die. X-men just didn't die. Yet Scott had died and the realisation of her own mortality as well as her friends' mortality added shock to her grief.
"Phoenix is on the loose and very powerful. We have to take her into consideration," Rogue warned, flinching slightly as she spoke. She didn't like to speak of Jean in such a fashion but Phoenix was not Jean. Jean would never have killed Scott; obviously Phoenix had not had the same restrictions.
"The army…" Legolas began but was interrupted when two guards opened the large, heavy wooden door and admitted Ororo. Her footsteps echoed in the large room as she walked towards the table, having changed clothes from the battle and was now wearing a dress that held a band just below her breasts, showing off her growing stomach. The guards closed the door behind her with a loud noise as they returned to keeping watch. She looked around at the gathered people and saw that like her they had all washed up and changed clothes which especially the Elves seemed happy to have stolen the time to do as they hated being dirty. They reminded her in many ways of Earth's cats, graceful, independent and hating being dirty and feeling miserable when it was raining. Despite Aragorn's many Elven traits he had not taken their almost fanatic need for being clean to heart though he did change clothes and cleaned up, as he had now, when he felt he could afford to do so.
"Sorry for the disturbance," she apologized and her eyes and face brightened at seeing Legolas. He smiled a bit more reserved but just as warmly at her and gracefully indicated the empty chair beside him. She nodded her thanks as she seated herself. Unable to help herself she took hold of Legolas's hand and held on tight. Scott's death had pained her deeply as they had been good friends and the realization that Jean, a friend who had been like a sister, had been his killer had shocked her to her core. She had cried for him, even cried for Jean as she now saw that her other friend was also gone but her tears hadn't ended her pain. On top of her grief she had had to fight against the pain she had felt when some of the Elves had died. Luckily they hadn't lost as many Elves in this battle as they had at Helm's Deep thanks to their ghostly allies but that pain was still there, added on top of everything else. She had worked in sickbay to try and save those she could but had lost patients there as well. There had been so much death and blood these last three days since the battle had ended that she had felt her spirits dying. Only Legolas and the love they shared kept her going. Aragorn saw their joined hands on the table and frowned in concern but didn't speak. For now Legolas was safe and thus he would wait to worry more about this till after the final battle against Sauron. He forced his mind off Legolas's health and the string of longing for Arwen seeing their love brought to his heart, knowing the battle talks demanded his full attention.
"As I was saying then the army is in a bad shape as you all know. Even our uninjured soldiers are tired and weary," Legolas ended, a light in his eyes and a small smile staying on his lips despite his serious tone and mood, a reminder of the joy Ororo brought to his life.
"Ideally we should let the soldiers rest for at least a month," Ororo added to Legolas's statement.
"Ideally we should not be at war," Boromir said softly, his thoughts grim and filled with images of fallen friends as well as the injuries his brother and his Little Ones had sustained. They should never have had been forced to fight; all three had had such innocent souls which had now been destroyed forever as they had been forced to kill to save themselves and others.
In situations like these Aragorn felt the burden of his inheritance dragging him down more than ever and his face and voice was grim as he spoke. "We have all suffered great losses in the cause of this war yet we cannot linger now. We must aid Frodo any way we can. I concur with the plan Haldir and Boromir suggested earlier," Aragorn nodded to each in turn who gave a respectful nod back. "We must get Sauron's attention off Frodo and to do so we must muster an attack on the Black Gates of Mordor."
"Our army will not have a chance against the forces of Mordor. They will all be killed," Eomer warned, his expression grim as his mind's eye supplied him with images of dying and dead comrades and friends, the image of his uncle's body and his sister's injuries foremost on his mind.
"I'll be the last to volunteer to a suicide mission but we need to kill these bastards! Since we're outnumbered we might not be able to win but we can sure as hell give them a run for their money," Logan said, his anger sparkling cold in his eyes.
"I agree with Logan," Gimli got in and pain appeared in his eyes at the memory of lost comrades danced before his mind's eye. "We have a lot of friends to avenge."
Aragorn nodded seriously. "Indeed we do." For a few seconds there was silence around the table as everyone remembered friends and family members who was now lost to them. "Very well," Aragorn said, having made up his mind. "If everyone agrees then prepare the armies. We leave for Mordor the day after tomorrow at daybreak."
There was a mumble of 'Eye' and 'Agreed' before the meeting broke up as people got busy trying to make the tired and shrinking army ready for battle.
"Asking you to stay in the city would do me no good, would it?" Logan asked, his tone poorly disguising his worry for Rogue as he addressed her. Logan had a strong and secure arm around Rogue's waist and she was leaning into him as they walked out of the banquet hall. They parted reluctantly from Ororo as the remaining X-men now felt overprotective of each other but had to part as they had been given different assignments. Logan and Rogue walked towards the buildings in the city where the officers from Rohan's army had taken residence. They had been assigned to try and get the Rohan division of the combined army ready for battle. This meant they had to send out runners to count how many troops would be able to participate in the battle, how many they had in the hospital and then count their supply of food, weapons, clothes and armor. It would be hectic in the next few days in Minas Tirith as all the different armies from Gondor's to Rivendell's Elves prepared for battle.
Rogue leaned against him, enjoying his nearness but her tone was serious as she lifted her head and looked up at him. "No, it wouldn't." She still felt guilty for what she had almost done to Logan and there was no way she would let him or her other friends, new and old, down again. She forced a smile and put a gloved hand on his mouth and then kissed her gloved hand, the way she gave him kisses when they didn't have a shawl or a similar small piece of clothing she could kiss through. "Don't worry so much, lov. We'll do this together," she said as she had withdrawn her hand.
Logan smiled softly at her, his heart filled with love, protectiveness and warmth. "Together," he agreed and kissed the top of her head.
Elsewhere, walking towards the palace's healing house, Legolas and Ororo were having a similar debate. "I beg you to reconsider, my wife. For the sake of our own unborn child," Legolas asked again as they had come to a halt in front of the healing house, facing each other as they spoke.
Ororo shook her head. "I worry about our child too," she said and instinctively put a protective hand over her growing stomach. "But I am a great asset to this army and if we do not win this battle against Sauron then everything will be lost." Legolas looked miserably at her and she smiled softly as she put a hand against his cheek. "I will not make promises I cannot keep," she said softly. "But I will promise I will try and be as careful as possible."
Legolas nodded his thanks as he covered her hand on his cheek with his own before he took her hand and softly kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you," he said seriously and his eyes echoed the love he didn't say. She blushed and smiled as she withdrew her hand. For a moment they stood opposite each other, she unsure of what to do. Everything had happened so fast that she had yet to fully learn all the rules of Elven society but one thing she had learnt was that the Elves were a very graceful but private people and public displays of affection in anything but words were rare.
As if he could read her mind Legolas said softly, lovingly. "You are my heart and my life. Your joy is my own; your pain my own. Do not hesitate to call for me to assist you in any way. It is not only my duty to help you through our life together but it is also my pleasure and privilege to do so." His words and eyes were as warm and burning as a caress yet he hadn't even attempted to touch her. Though she was normally a reserved person herself she saw no need to be so now. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, pulling him close. As if her fire ignited his own, his arms closed around her and he deepened the kiss. The kiss lasted for a lifetime, holding a desperate intensity that neither could voice. Reluctantly she drew back from him and with eyes filled with love and fondness she caressed his cheek.
"I love you," she said simply, happy to finally be able to say those words to him. Again he caught her hand and kissed it, this time inside her palm. He kept holding her hand in his, drawing circles and small figures on the soft skin of her palm. "And I you," he said simply. She smiled and the moment seemed to last forever before Legolas reluctantly let go of her hand. "Come to me at nightfall. I will be at the palace assisting Aragorn with the Gondoran army," Legolas explained and she nodded.
"I will," she promised and with one last look at her Legolas walked back to the palace, having only left it to follow her to the healing house. Her work at the House was not only with the patients but also trying to record the patients names and what army they were from so their families would know where they were and so the armies would know as well. She watched Legolas disappear into the evening mist that had gathered on the streets of Minas Tirith which was probably for the better as they were still cleaning up after the battle, the sickly sweet stench of the burning bodies of dead Orcs that burned just outside town testified to this as did the mass graveyard they were building, also outside of town which they tried to separate into 3 pieces, one for fallen Gondorian, Rohan and Elven soldiers. She forced her thoughts away from death, forced her loss for Scott to the back of her mind as she entered the healing house, determined to do a good job before she would fall into an exhausted sleep within Legolas's strong embrace.
Sauron was going to pay for her loss. Slowly, painfully…she would rip him apart and cast him into the flames of hell itself if possible. Filled with pain and rage Phoenix flew across Mordor. She had killed a lot of Sauron's men but had tired of killing minions when Sauron himself was the one she wanted. With green eyes burning with fury she flew straight to Sauron's hideout. The nightmarish wasteland gave way to Sauron's mansion and she flew to his tower. She hovered above the ground and was face to face with the red glowing eye that was the spirit being called Sauron. She stopped at a distance of 20 meters from him.
"You killed Cyclops!" she yelled furiously at him, forming a fist with her right hand as she called her powers to her. She felt the very energy of the universe itself pulsing within her but kept surging up even more power as she reached her right hand towards the heavens.
'I did not. You did,' came Sauron's dark, mental voice, hammering against her mental shields. He could easily pick up her turmoil emotions and had seen the events that had happened between her and Scott in her mind as the memory and emotions were tightly connected and under very loose control.
"You lie!" she raged and threw all the energy she had gathered towards him, using her right hand to aim her energy at him. She was sure there would be nothing left of him; she had never used that much energy before. Stunned she watched her telepathic and telekinetic attack glance off him as water on a goose. "It…it cannot be," she mumbled. Sauron didn't even seem to have been injured; the eye glimmered as evilly as always.
'Silly woman,' the dark mental voice scolded. 'Do you really think I would have brought you here, would have boosted your powers if not I knew I could always defeat you?'
"You are wrong. No one can defeat me," Phoenix denied and gathered more energy around herself, again using her right hand as a focus point, reaching it up towards the heavens. "I am Phoenix. I am fire and life incarnate. I get my powers from the universe itself. I cannot be defeated!" With those words she threw another mental bolt of energy towards him, using all her powers, all her energy. Breathing heavily, weary from the strain she watched stunned as again Sauron didn't even seem to blink…so to speak.
'You cannot defeat me. You may get your powers from the universe but I get mine from the One Ring, an instrument of pure evil. The universe in itself is neutral. Drawing energy from it you draw the potential for good as well as evil. You have to supply the evil yourself from the energy you harvest and that strains you. I do not have to do so. The energy from the Ring is already pure evil. You cannot defeat me' Sauron's mental voice was dark and taunting, arrogant and sure. Weakened Phoenix began to feel her mental barriers give way as Sauron hammered into them, trying to force his way into her mind. She instinctively put her hands to her forehead in an old age gesture of self protection from an inner attack she knew she could not fight on the outside.
"You will not defeat me!" Phoenix hissed through clashed teeth, fighting with all she had to keep him out of her mind but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would lose.
'I already have,' he sent simply.
Phoenix looked straight at him, an evil smile playing over her lips. She knew what she had to do and she realized the decision wasn't hard. Phoenix would not be brought to her knees; she would win, no mater what. She would win! "Defeat this!" She yelled as she used her last energy to fly high up into the sky.
'What are you doing? You cannot outrun me,' Sauron reminded her, his voice confident but she could feel his puzzlement. She didn't reply as she again gathered energy around her, all she could muster. She pointed both her hands downwards, ready to take aim. 'You cannot kill me,' Sauron said again, a string of evil laughter forcing its way through her failing mental barriers.
"I cannot but I know someone else who can," Phoenix said evenly, her thoughts on the Hobbits whose journey she had tried to disrupt since she had gotten here. All that had changed. Their success now fitted into her plans. She pointed her hands towards Sauron's large army where it was moving towards the Black Gates, ready to match on Gondor.
'What are you doing?' Sauron demanded to know, a hint of alarm in his voice.
"This is for you, Scott. I could never love you but I know…Jean did," Phoenix whispered, the most fleeting of pains at his death washing over her but as before it was quickly replaced by rage and anger. Her thirst for revenge was now greater than her thirst for power. With a heart filled with thoughts of revenge she flew faster and faster downwards, building up more and more energy as she flew towards the part of Sauron's Orc army that was closest to where she was which turned out to be the end of the army. The Orc army was slowly marching towards the Black Gates and Gondor and did not notice her as she flew towards them.
'NOOO!' Sauron yelled and intensified his attack on her mind. She fought back the pain that was becoming agony. She had to make it. She would not be beaten.
"Defeat this, you sick son of a bitch!" she yelled as she let loose all the energy she had gathered when she was only a few meters from the army. The energy built up was too much for her to handle and before she had time to think another thought the energy vaporized her together with all of Sauron's army and most of Mordor. Her last action was an arrogant smile and a simple triumphant whisper.
"I win!" she got out, the words hanging in the air as the smoke from the burnt out army began to drift away.
'Noooo!' Sauron yelled, enraged. A woman had defeated his army…One woman? This could not be. How could this have happened? Phoenix wasn't supposed to be willing to give her life for anything, not even revenge. She was supposed to be too power hungry for that. What could have changed that? Love. It was the only emotion powerful enough to break through darkness and evil, even for just a few seconds. Sauron cursed everything and anyone he could think of. Now all he could hope was that Gollum, a creature under his control, would bring the Ring to him. Without an army the Ring was his only hope. Gollum surely would have no such weakness as Phoenix had had when Jean's love had resurfaced and briefly touched her mind, sending her off on a blind mission of revenge. He could only hope that the Hobbit who carried the Ring was lost and without hope and without love as well…For then his plan could never fail! Dismissing Phoenix's attack as a minor setback Sauron would have smiled arrogantly if he had had a body; yes, the Hobbit and Gollum would not fail him. There was no love or hope left for any of them. He could and would still win this war and Phoenix's last minute sacrifice would have been for nothing just like the sacrifice of that stupid fool of her lover who had given his life to see that small light in her return, had been for nothing.
The army had been gathered and had been ready for a battle they could not win, standing outside the Black Gates. The Gates had opened and an army of Orcs had stood opposite them. It was evident to all that this battle they could not win. Nevertheless not one soldier deserted his post, knowing that this battle had to be fought or all of Middle Earth would be lost. However, as Aragorn was about to give the signal to attack a blinding white light fell from the sky and hit the back of the Orc army, sending a shock wave of destruction through the ranks of Orcs. Aragorn, Boromir, Haldir, Eomer, Legolas, Ororo, Rogue and Logan had quickly yelled that everyone should draw back. They had managed to only loose 290 people in the blast that had destroyed the Orc army, leaving 420 people wounded. Thanks to their greater speed and vitality no Elves had been wounded or killed in the blast. Ororo had flown up to scan the area and had confirmed that the entire Orc army had been killed. The anti climatic ending had taken some time for them to accept when they had just moments before all tried to come to terms with the knowledge that they were all about to die.
They had moved back to the city, tending to the wounded and dead but had stayed on alert. When hours had passed without any attack they had summarized that Phoenix must have died, maybe in the attack on the Orcs. Gandalf had told them that the attack had not been magical so it was logical to suspect Phoenix had done it, though why she would choose to commit an act that would take her own life as well remained a mystery to them.
Again the council had gathered and debated options. Some wanted to seek out Frodo and Sam and offer their assistance but they feared that if they did so they would only draw Sauron's attention to the Hobbits. So they had been left to agonizing and restless waiting. Boromir had spent most of his time with Faramir or his Little Ones, happy to be given the opportunity to say a proper farewell to the Hobbits. Having said his farewell to Faramir he never said farewell again. He did however use some time to talk with Faramir and Eowyn and when alone he let his brother know that whatever his heart chose then he would approve of that choice. Too early to think of that Faramir was still happy to have Boromir's blessing when the time came.
It was a difficult time for everyone, knowing that if the Hobbits failed so would all of Middle Earth. The time was hardest for Boromir's friends. Boromir himself had come to terms with his pending death but his brother and his friends had not. Afraid to find him suddenly gone everyone tried to speak with him often and frequently but everyone also felt uncomfortable, not knowing how to react when in his presence which in turn made Boromir feel uncomfortable. Boromir spent some time talking with Rogue who, to his pleasure and relief, was able to talk more normally with him as she had tried something similar when she had watched her grandmother pass away some years earlier, knowing she was about to die but unable to prevent it. The episode had happened when Rogue had been a young girl but talking to her grandmother had given her a sense of closure and that had taken a lot of the pain and grief away. Time and the wonder of the forgetfulness of anything painful of the young mind had ensured that the memory of her grandmother was remembered fondly and without pain. Rogue had told Boromir about her own temptation by the Ring and she ended up being able to let go of some of her guilt over the episode when Boromir had talked about his own temptation. He spoke with Ororo about Legolas and what little he knew of Elven culture, suggesting she asked his brother who knew practically everything about the culture he admired so much. He would debate Scott and his death with Ororo as well, and they would talk about life, death and mourning. Ororo was one of the few of his friends who were able to relax in his company. She saw life as a circle and had long ago accepted death as a natural part of life. She was connected to nature in a different way than the Elves because she was also connected to nature's frailty and mortality. He spent some time with Eomer, Haldir and Logan but ended up mostly debating Middle Earth's future and battle strategies, as none of these men were good at debating emotions. He spoke with Legolas about what might lie ahead for him after his death and he admitted to his fear that Eru, his God, might not forgive him his error about the Ring. Legolas's reply had comforted him. The Elven Prince had simply said, "If your God is a God worthy of prayer, your God will always forgive, always understand…always love…Never punish, never hate, never condemn." And Boromir knew Legolas was right and that he had nothing to fear. A deeper sense of serenity had settled over him then.
It was on the second day after the battle that had never come to pass at the Black Gates when it happened. Boromir had just come back to the palace after visiting his Little Ones and his brother. He had gone to meet Aragorn and they had been debating Gondor's future. The two of them now had an easy report and their hopes and dreams for Gondor as a safe and free nation without hate and injustice burned bright in them both. They had been seated in the library, their chairs facing each other in front of the fireplace when suddenly a white light appeared from above, its warm rays reaching Boromir.
"It is time," Boromir said softly to Aragorn and from the surprise, shock and sadness on his face Boromir knew his friend could not see the light. He fought not to let his nervousness show but it was impossible for him not to be nervous about an unsure fate and also impossible not to mourn the life he was leaving half done. Despite having come to terms with his own demise when it was time it still felt too soon. "Take care of my brother, the Hobbits and Gondor. All what is precious to me I now place in your hands. Keep them safe," he asked as he rose to stand in front of his chair. Unsure of what to do Aragorn stood as well, sorrow at seeing his friend leave evident in his face but as he realised this meant the Hobbits had won joy was also present.
"I will," he swore. Boromir smiled in gratitude and stretched out his hand. Aragorn took it and shook it like warriors do, hand around the wrist. Their hands fell apart and time seemed to stop.
"I could have wished for no better steward of my Kingdom…and no better friend," Aragorn said sincerely. Boromir was his closest human friend and also one of the few humans he had close contact to. A bond had formed between them, Boromir had after his resurrection shown understanding and tolerance towards a human King raised as an Elf, something few humans had and Aragorn was saddened to see him go, even though he had known this would come along.
Again Boromir nodded his thanks. "Happiness and long life," Boromir wished as he felt himself begin to fade away, moving towards the warm and embracing light. In the presence of such warmth and love as what he could feel from the light that carried him away Boromir's nervousness and regrets melted away. The light embraced him and carried him away on a wave of light and love and Boromir's last thought was that everything would be all right, for him and for the ones he left behind. He had faith in the goodness of his own final destiny and faith in the abilities of the ones he was leaving behind.
To Aragorn it seemed as if Boromir was about to fade from existence and he had to restrain himself from not trying to make a grab for him to bind him to this life a little longer.
"You shall never be forgotten," Aragorn promised. Before more words could be spoken Boromir was gone, faded from existence and Aragorn comforted himself with the fact that Boromir had seemed at peace when he had faded from his vision. "Farewell…my friend," Aragorn whispered softly to the empty air. For a few minutes he simply stood still, staring at the spot where Boromir had stood just moments before. Then he called Gandalf and Ororo to him and asked them to search for Frodo and Sam, telling them about Boromir's death. As they left, their hearts heavy, Aragorn went to bring the sad news to Faramir and the two Hobbits. As Aragorn walked to the healing house he knew this would be one of the hardest and saddest news he had never had to break to anyone.
It was now or never; it was time to end it all. Sam had fought his way back to Frodo and had saved him from giant spiders and Orcs alike, cruel beings that would forever haunt his dreams. Now as they were at Mt. Doom what should have been an easy decision was suddenly not. Sam had watched with dismay as his friend fell deeper and deeper under the Ring's evil spell, growing weaker and weaker by the hour. They had seen a bright flash of light over Mordor not long ago but unsure of what it was they had simply fought to move faster towards their destination.
Sam and Frodo had finally reached the top of Mt. Doom and had gone inside the natural cave at the top which showed a rocky bridge with melted lava all around. Frodo was now holding the Ring out over the edge of the small rocky passage in the chain he had carried it in. He was holding it over the pit of melted lava below while Sam stood a few feet away, near the entrance to the cave, watching his friend with a worried expression on his face.
"I could own the world. I could have everything!" Frodo mumbled, his eyes taking on a mad and power hungry look.
"Frodo, please. Throw it in!" Sam begged, afraid something might happen at this, the last trial, to prevent Frodo from destroying the Ring. Frodo turned towards him, grinning evilly.
"Why should I? I have everything. I can be everything!"
Sam had known how hard Frodo was fighting the temptation of the Ring but he had never imagined it would come to this. He knew this person in front of him had little left of his friend but he would not abandon him now. He stepped closer to Frodo, so close he could touch him if he should so choose.
"Mine!" Frodo insisted, pulling the Ring away from Sam's reach but otherwise remained where he was. The fate of the world, of the Shire, everything faded when Sam looked into the tortured, mad eyes of the friend who he would die for.
"My dearest friend," Sam began softly, heartfelt. "If I thought the possession of the Ring would ease the agony I've seen grow in you since we departed Rivendell I would never ask you to give it up but the Ring is not the answer."
"You know nothing!" Frodo insisted, unconsciously stroking the Ring in his hand as if it was a lover.
"The Ring beckons to me as well," Sam admitted. "But I know of something which is of much more worth to me than any object of metal."
A part of Frodo shined through as he was intrigued in spite of himself. "And what is that?"
"You," Sam said simply, honestly. The one thing, only thing, that could push the evil whispers of the Ring back; love. Love and the lack of desire for power and material things. Sam was a simple man with a simple outlook on life and simple dreams. Life to him had never been complicated. He loved living in the Shire, quiet and far from change as it was. He loved his friend who was also his master and he loved life's simple pleasures of food, wine and fun games to pass the time.
Frodo seemed to hesitate for a moment in the face of Sam's honest and warm statement. No one had ever cared for him as deeply as Sam had…after all he had done to Sam, thrown him away then taken him back when Gollum had left him….after it all Sam still thought the world of him. A warm feeling of caring and love fought to push the darkness of the Ring's influence back.
"Sam, I…" He began not sure what else he wanted to say but he never got the chance when Gollum suddenly appeared, having followed the Hobbits, and jumped on him, trying to tear the Ring away from him.
"Mine! It's mine! My precious!" Gollum yelled fanatically and the two of them fought. Caught up in the rage and anger of a fight Frodo forgot the warm emotions that had just began to develop and instead fought to get the Ring for himself. Gollum had jumped up on his back and they were moving further inside the cave. Sam watched worried, trying to find an opening to help Frodo but was afraid that if he mingled they would all fall into the pit of melted lava.
"It's mine!" Frodo proclaimed as he managed to get the Ring off the chain he had had it in and slid it onto his finger.
"NOO!" Sam screamed in shock and frustration. Sauron would be able to find them now and from the evil look on Frodo's face he was also able to influence the Ringbearer to a much greater length now that Frodo wore the Ring on his flesh.
"MINE! MINE! MINE!" Gollum screamed fanatically and tried to twist the Ring off Frodo's finger. Seeing he wasn't succeeding Gollum simply bit Frodo's finger clean off, making the Hobbit scream in pain.
"Frodo!" Sam yelled worried and moved towards him. Gollum looked triumphantly at the Ring and in his fascination of it forgot to have a proper grip on Frodo who stretched and threw Gollum backwards and off him, into the pit of melted lava. Frodo sank to his knees, holding his bleeding finger, not even sparing Gollum a glance. As Sam ran to Frodo he looked over the edge at Gollum who was smiling as he was falling, holding the Ring tightly in his hands.
"My precious. It's finally mine. My precious," he said satisfied, lovingly before the lava took him and he was no more.
"I am free…the pull, the pain, has faded to nothing but a constant echo…a phantom forever in my mind," Frodo whispered in wonder and pain as he felt Sauron's influence fade away.
"I cannot die! I cannot lose! I cannot!" Frodo heard Sauron yell but to no avail. He faded from existence and Frodo was free, the pain now reduced to a more bearable level and he knew some pain would always remain as a constant reminder of what he had endured and what he had done here today; the betrayal he had almost committed.
Sam knelt beside his friend, his face filled with sympathy. He put an arm around Frodo's back and helped him stand, wincing with him when the pain made Frodo grimace. The entire mountain shook and the cave began to give in.
"We must go now," Sam said unnecessarily as he aided Frodo back out of the cave. Supporting his friend they moved as quickly down the mountain as possible but Frodo's injuries were slowing them down.
"Just leave me," Frodo groaned, pain clear in his face.
"Never!" Sam vowed. They reached a small plateau and had to rest there when suddenly the mountain exploded and lava moved towards them. Sam couldn't help but smile at the irony that they should die now, after the almost impossibly dangerous task had been completed.
"Leave," Frodo got out and tried weakly to push Sam way from him.
"I am not leaving," Sam insisted. He let Frodo lie down, his head resting in Sam's lap. "I am right where I want to be," he said softly, eyeing the coming doom of melted lava out of the corner of his eye. So, this was the end. It didn't feel that bad now that he knew that Middle Earth was safe. He was saddened that he didn't get to see the Shire again or know for sure that Merry and Pippin were all right but he was still content. The journey had ended and after months of hardship and none or very uneasy sleep he would have peace.
"You are a very stubborn man, Samwise Gamgee," Frodo whispered affectionately, trying to fight the pain so that he didn't lose consciousness. He didn't want Sam to face the end alone. The least he could do was stay with him till it happened.
"That I am, Mister Frodo. That I am," Sam said softly and stroked Frodo's forehead, growing alarmed when he felt it was burning hot with fever. Then he remembered that they were about to die so a fever wasn't their greatest problems. Frodo's hand found his and he squeezed it hard, both trying to gain comfort from the simple touch.
Sam eyed the lava as it moved closer and closer and as it was to engulf Frodo and him he instinctively leaned protectively over his friend though he knew his body would not be enough to shield him. Suddenly a wave of cold air hit him and turning he saw that the nearing deadly wave of lava had frozen to ice. Relieved beyond words but puzzled as to who could be his powerful saviour Sam looked up and spotted Ororo, an obviously pregnant Ororo. She smiled down at them but her eyes reflected a deep sadness and sorrow Sam did not understand.
"We are relieved to see you are both well," she said as she landed next to them.
"Come. Let's take you home," another voice said, filled with concern and love. Sam turned and saw Gandalf hovering a little over the ground on the back of a giant bird and he too had eyes that showed sadness. Sam silently reminded himself to ask them what had brought it on at a later time.
"Gandalf," Frodo said and smiled at him. The pain and the excitement finally caught up with him and his hand went limp in Sam's as he lost consciousness.
"Home," Sam whispered happily and let Ororo use her power over the wind to lift them up to Gandalf. They flew back to Gondor; Ororo helping Gandalf keep the Hobbits safe on the back of the bird. Sam stayed at Frodo's side until he was safety put in a bed in one of the bedrooms of the palace of Minas Tirith. First then did Sam permit himself to relax and he promptly fainted from strain, fatigue and all the minor pains and aches which had grown and was now making themselves known. Gandalf and Ororo were not in doubt that Sam should be placed in the bedroom next to Frodo's. In the midst of remembering all the losses and pain this victory had brought with them, Frodo and Sam's endurance, love and loyalty to each other made Gandalf and Ororo also remember all the victories…all the soldiers still left standing.
It had been a bloody war with much destruction and much pain but this had been a war they had been unable to avoid. Even the pacifistic Elves and Hobbits had been drawn into it and they all knew that it would take ages before the wounds and scars of this war would fade away. However as always in the face of grief there was only one way to go…and that was forward…forward and create something better than yesteryear to prevent a war, a grief like this from ever coming to pass again.
Author's notes:
Oh, my God I'm getting tired from all this writing. grins
Random trivia: Did you know that this chapter is 24 pages long? I guess you're also getting tired of reading so long chapters all the time. smiles
Well, chin up, people. Only one more chapter to go before I throw the towel in the ring. ;)
I hope you've enjoyed the story so far.
Feedback and comments are always welcome as long as you use a kind and polite tone.
Thanks again to everyone who has send me kind words of encouragement. Your words have kept me writing.
Special thanks to Jonas for the beta.
Love
Nadja