Warning: Just… be prepared.
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Aragorn watched the attack of arrows come down around him, Legolas and Gimli like a torrent of black rain. He and Gimli parried and blocked most of the arrows as they put their faith in Legolas' deadly archery skills.
Arrows flew around his ears, filling his hearing with the whistles they made as they grazed past his head. Each arrow that flew towards him came closer and closer to biting into his skin. He took a tentative step backwards and continued to repel the arrows.
He felt his two friends follow suit, carefully dodging the arrows as they stepped backwards to slowly get out of range of the enemies' attack.
The shadows above him on the carved rock of the high walls danced and flickered, flashing warning signs of lethal swords and bows. Even the shadows, forms born from the absence of light, were telling him that they were surrounded. They were in the middle of hell.
Then, he took a step back onto nothing but air.
He felt his heart freeze in his chest as he felt himself falling into the gaping hole that none of them had noticed. He heard himself scream though he made no effort to do it. Likewise by instinct, his arm shot up in a futile attempt to reach the edge of the platform.
"Aragorn!"
Legolas appeared at the edge of the platform and grabbed his arm. Only once before had he seen Legolas' face with such fear and determination etched in his eyes. It had been years, but he could remember it clearly even though he knew Legolas had long forgotten. The memory forced itself into Aragorn's mind.
The two of them were mere children; no older than three years old. Yet they had somehow climbed to the highest point of the roof of Aragorn's house. He could still remember how windy that day was.
"Wow," he had said in awe, "you can see the whole world from here!"
"Are you sure we can be up here, Aaron?" Leo was sceptic. Even as young as three, he was looking out for his best friend. He had amazing balance, especially for a three-year-old, and he felt perfectly fine on the roof but he was more concerned about Aaron. "Maybe we should get down from here."
"Aw, come on, Leo! You can see our dads' building from here! Can you see it over there?" He pointed out to the skyscraper in the downtown sprawl.
Leo nodded a bit, uncertainty filled in his eyes. Something about those eyes always got to Aaron, making him feel guilty for whatever he had done.
"Okay, fine," Aaron sighed exasperatedly. "Let's get down from here. We can play in my room."
All signs of worry vanished from Leo's face as he nodded. But that relief was quickly replaced by fear when the young Aaron slipped on the tiles and fell off the roof.
In a feat only a yet-to-be Elvish prince warrior could perform at age three, Leo had dove from near the top of the roof and snatched Aaron's hand, stopping him from falling two very tall stories onto the ground.
"Hold on, Aaron," begged Leo. "Hold on."
The frightened expression that was written across Leo's face had etched itself into Aaron's memory and made him vow, as Leo called at the top of his voice for help, that he would never let himself do something so stupid as to make his closest friend feel that scared again.
And yet, Aragorn was staring at that same face more than a decade later among the fires of Darkness.
"Come on, buddy," Legolas said as he tried pulling him up. "Just hold on."
The ground above Aragorn rumbled, shaking both him and Legolas and loosening their grip. He felt his hand slide and grip Legolas' wrist. He stole another glance at Legolas and regretted seeing the pain in his eyes. Another thunderous rumble shook through them again, sliding him down even further.
The two boys were barely holding on as Aragorn looked down at what he was going to be falling into.
A sheer drop of at least twenty feet awaited him if they let go of each other. The dancing light of hidden flames flared across the floor under him and stopped him from being able to accurately guess what lay in the shadows for him. But he knew that he had to drop if they were to see each other alive again.
"Legolas," he called up to the Elf, "whatever happens to me, just keep on going; keep fighting." Another violent vibration shook through their connection and Aragorn's grip slid down even more. Now, he was only hanging on to Legolas' hand.
He took another glance down at the lower level. "Oh, shit, I'm going to drop."
"No, you're not, Aragorn. Hold on." With tremendous determination, Legolas began to pull him up back onto the platform. Arrows flew past them, narrowly missing. "You're almost there, man. Come on."
With his free arm, Aragorn reached to touch the edge of the platform which was mere inches from his fingertips. Suddenly, he could see what was making the ground shake and it was about to rush out and attack them all.
"Legolas!" he yelled out. "Behind you!"
He saw the Hunter's huge shadow cast over all three of them and felt Legolas immediately let go of him, letting him drop into the level below.
Aragorn fell feet first to the level below. He could actually feel gravity yanking him down from the rest of the Fellowship, deeper into the Lair. The air whistled through his ears as he tried to prepare himself to land on the ground, which was rapidly rushing up to meet him.
He tried to soften the landing by absorbing some of the shock in his legs but his left foot slipped on the hard rock and he was forced to bounce once on the stone before being able to use his momentum to safely roll onto his feet.
He lay there for a few seconds to register which parts of his body were in pain. His left shoulder was screaming with a pain that numbed his entire arm. Slowly, he looked at it and, judging by the irregular angle his arm was being held, knew that he had dislocated his shoulder.
Groaning, he slowly got to his feet. The left side of his body was throbbing from the fall. He looked up at the giant, gaping hole he had fallen from and realized that he was either very skilled or had extremely dumb luck.
Legolas' figure appeared at the edge of the platform again in the midst of sounds of battle. Aragorn smirked, knowing that it could very well be the last moment they saw each other.
"Namarie, mellon nin," he said softly. "May the Valar allow us to meet again."
Holding his left shoulder, he turned his heel and ran as best as he could through the shadows of his level. He could hear Legolas yelling his name through the giant hole that was becoming further and further away.
He felt the ground under him slope down as he ran through the darkness. The shadows pressed around him and blinded him of all sight. As an instinct, he tried feeling for the wall and felt a surge of pain flare in his dislocated shoulder.
Biting back his screams, he made his way to the wall and held his shoulder to see how badly it was damaged.
"… Elessar…"
Aragorn gasped in surprise. His eyes struggled to see in the darkness just who was whispering his forgotten name.
"… Elessar… King of Men…"
He felt a sudden icy chill run through his blood. The whispers carried with them an element of dread, hatred and sorrow as they called him into the darkness. He could almost feel the warmth of the air around him disappear.
"Come… If you wish to know… If you wish to dare…"
Aragorn pushed himself from the wall in agony from his shoulder. He weighed his options in his mind. If he could pop his arm back into his shoulder, he could do more damage but ran the risk of severely damaging his own shoulder. But, if he left it, he could be at a huge disadvantage and in considerable pain though his arm would sustain relatively less damage.
Tightening his jaw, he clutched his arm with his good hand.
He counted under his breath to prepare himself. "One… two… three!"
CRACK. He jerked his left arm with enough force to pop it back into its socket and felt as if his whole arm was on fire. The burning feeling shot through his arm straight down to his fingertips. It was all he could do to swallow the urge to let out a scream.
As the immediate pain ebbed away, he twitched his fingers and began to follow the voice down the lightless corridor. Again, he reached for the wall and followed it with considerably less pain. The whispers gradually grew louder and stronger as he ventured through the shadows.
"Fabled King of Gondor…" The voice seemed distorted somehow and echoed in the vast hallway. It seemed to speak to Aragorn from every angle around him. "Last in a long line of Numenoreans… descended from the Faithful… Ally of the Elves… Enemy of all Darkness…
"Yet you come… to my Lair… accompanied by spirits from the past world and friends that are old and new..."
"Your Lair?" Aragorn repeated to shadows. "This is YOUR Lair? Are you the one who the demons call the 'Dark Master'?" He was running now that he knew he was close to being face-to-face with the real enemy.
"Yes… I am… Welcome… to the very core of the Darkness!"
The ground levelled out suddenly below Aragorn's feet into a smooth, polished floor reminiscent to one from a throne room. The shadows retreated into the walls when he stepped into the circular room.
"Take a good look at this room, Elessar… It will become your home…"
Aragorn scowled. The thought of living within the very core of the Darkness sickened him. He could sense the shadows lurking inside the walls by some wicked magic. He could feel their excitement and their anticipation by his presence and he didn't like that feeling at all.
"It is fit for a king, is it not?" The Master's voice still surrounded him.
"Are you referring to the room or how I am to be executed?" Aragorn asked coolly. He stood rather casually but carefully unlatched Anduril with the flick of his left thumb. "Well?"
"… Both… I suppose," came its reply.
"It's interesting, to say the least." He walked around the large mosaic that was embedded in the centre of the room. It depicted both the sun and the moon being eclipsed by shadows and it was bordered with figures of Orcs and Uruk-Hai in their prime, destroying pieces and beings of Light. It was painstakingly detailed and hauntingly beautiful.
As Aragorn walked around the mosaic, he marvelled at how symmetrical and chaotically perfect the pattern was. It seemed that everything, including the eclipsed sun and moon, revolved around the very centre of the pattern. A glimpse of something glittering embedded in the middle caught his eye.
"I see… that you are interested by the pattern," the Master said to him as he walked to the middle.
Aragorn said nothing. He looked down at the symbols that were shining at him like they were glowing. Elvish and English letters surrounded a single symbol that was in the dead centre of the entire room.
"Anar, Isil," he read. "A, F, E, W. Representing the Sun, Moon, air, fire, earth and water, they sit eternally around one thing. Am I correct?"
"Yes… All things obey and heed the Darkness… All things are conquered by the Shadows. You are near your end, Elessar, King of Men and Holder of Light."
Aragorn could feel the shadows held in the walls move around him. The columns that stood at regular intervals along the circumference seemed to emanate a cold and evil power that surged through the entire room, focussing on the mosaic pattern.
"You… will… be defeated… by the Darkness."
"Never!" He drew Anduril from its sheath and prepared himself to fight.
The shadows poured out of the walls like dark water from a dam and disappeared under the floor. As they swam through the stone, they chilled and darkened the very air in the room.
They embodied the dark border of the giant mosaic in the floor, making the pattern pitch-black. Slowly, figures of the Orcs and Uruk-Hai rose up from the stone floor like the demons of Hell had risen to the realm of the living from underground.
Horrified, Aragorn saw that these Orcs and Uruk-Hai had no body. Instead, they were merely shadows that took the form of the creatures. There was no doubt in his mind that the damage they would cause was deadly real even though they were shadows.
"Why do you resist? What… are you still holding onto? The past? The future? Or your feelings you call good emotions?
"Are they still good when they come from what you call… bad things? Is happiness still good when it comes… from seeing someone sad? Is killing bad… when the animal is sick? Or when you need to eat? Is love right if it hurts other people aside from the lovers?
"What is it… that you fight for that does not yield to the Darkness?"
Again, Aragorn stayed silent. The shuffling of the materialising shadows was all he could afford to focus on if he were to win this fight. He worried if the strength that he had would be enough to defeat the bodiless creatures that stood before him. He watched as the first line of shadows drew their weapons and leered at him hungrily with their empty eyes.
"You will… be defeated by the Darkness. The Nine Holders of Light… they shall be no more. The Dark shall triumph over Light as a new Age ushers in… greater and more powerful than all the Ages!" the Master proclaimed, its voice echoing in the circular chamber. "Soon, it shall be the Shadow Age!"
"That," Aragorn said clearly, "will never come to pass."
Anduril matched the ferocity of its swordmaster as it sliced through the air and the beings of shadow. It tore through the shadows with such fierce energy that any shadow it attacked dissolved into pieces.
But, the magic and force of the ancient sword was not enough. The shadows returned to the walls and stone, adopted the shape of an Orc or Uruk-Hai once more and attacked Aragorn again, creating a constant wave of unbeatable Darkness.
Aragorn could feel his muscles aching from the energy he had spent already, battling in the Lair. The shadows were relentless and his shoulder was beginning to hurt from using it too much. He knew he was not going to win if he kept this rate up. He needed something to defeat the shadows in one big attack.
"It is… futile, Elessar," the Master called to him. "Give up. It is hopeless."
"You forget my name," he called to it. "I am Estel, hope of the West."
He quickly drew out his gun and fired a shot towards the wall and let the trail of golden light from the magic enhancement of Gandalf illuminate the chamber. The shadows in the bullet's immediate path were instantly vaporized and left him a small trail to the wall.
Aragorn resisted the shadows' call and put Anduril back into its sheath. As quickly as he could, he assembled one of his bombs from his pocket. He purposely reached for the smallest one he had and fused the detonator to it.
His hands were covered in blood from the scratching and clawing of the shadows' hands. They moved much more slowly than the real Orcs and Uruk-Hai but the bone-chilling fear they caused with their cold, lifeless hands were a match to any weapon that the monsters had.
The blood from Aragorn's hands had covered his bomb but he hoped that it wouldn't be a factor when he timed the detonator and threw it towards the mass of black shadows. Finally tearing away from the grasping hands, he bolted to the nearest column to try to escape the blast.
The detonator ignited, triggering the explosion. The shadow beings seemed to melt and dissipate when the light from the bomb illuminated the entire chamber. The explosion was strangely muffled but still shook the room and created large cracks in the floor. Around the columns, rocks and dust covered the floor as the shockwave was absorbed by the stone of the room.
Aragorn was surprised and impressed. He had used a technologically-advanced bomb in a room that, although cavernous and full of echoes, was made of stone and what looked like plaster. It should have crumbled. But it only sustained minor damage.
But what really caught him off his guard was how bright the light was. A normal bomb would explode in a normal red-orange flame. Nitroxide fuelled explosions ignite blue-green flames. His bomb gave off a yellow-orange light; much brighter than his other bombs that were of the same make. So, what made this one different?
"I… liked that." The Dark Master's voice rang through the room again. It seemed louder than it had been before. "In truth, I did not expect you to defeat my Shadow Warriors."
The ringing in his ears muffled his enemy's voice a bit but Aragorn understood its message and got to his feet. "Never underestimate the Light and its powers."
"Yes, yes," drawled the Master, like it had heard the speech about Light many times before. "The Light and the powers of love, kindness and charity. I know my enemy and its weaknesses. Do you know your enemy and their weaknesses, Elessar?"
Aragorn stayed silent for a third time. He sensed that another force was coming; something more powerful and dangerous. He drew Anduril again from its sheath and faced the door that he had overlooked since it was near a column. He could feel it coming closer and readied himself to fight.
The door slid open and the sudden light from the fiery blazes from the rest of the Lair temporarily blinded Aragorn's eyes. He waited for his eyes to adjust and for the Dark Master to act first.
"I have studied you humans for some time now," said the Master. Its voice came from the door and faint footsteps were heard as it came into the room. "Biologically, you are frail and weak; an unworthy match for one of my minions if both were weaponless. But your intellect surpasses all other animals' on this pitiful planet and you rule as supreme beings.
"Your strengths as humans are many but they are also your weaknesses."
The door stayed open but his eyes had adjusted accordingly as the Dark Master spoke. To Aragorn, it seemed to be made of a cloak and a small body that was hidden by the billowing cloth that surrounded it. On first glance, he would have said that it was a Ringwraith but the menace and utter chaos that he could feel the Master represented was paralleled to none. Underneath the warped calm and confidence, he could feel the power and destruction that it could cause the world if the Fellowship disappeared.
"Humankind's biggest strength and weakness," continued the Master, "is that force you call 'love'. It unites individuals but it also destroys many others. It seems that the more Light one embodies, the stronger the force of love destroys.
"Are you confused? You, of all people, Elessar, should know what love destroys. Men waste their lives destroying the earth in the name of love and loyalty to their kingdom. But what good is that love when the kingdom no longer exists?
"However, the Elves were the most vulnerable to the pains of love." It watched Aragorn's reaction to its words. "I see it in your eyes: the regret, the wonder of what happened in the past. You know what happens to them if their hearts are broken, Elessar. Tell me what happens."
Trying not to let his voice shake, Aragorn spoke. "They die."
The Master let out an evil laugh that chilled Aragorn to his bones. The sound of its laugh was cold and hard like a bitter snowstorm in the winter that cuts the skin and tears at the heart.
"Most Elves do," chuckled the Master. "This one does not." It stepped aside without making a single sound and revealed its final warrior and ultimate weapon against him.
"No," he whispered with his eyes wide with devastation.
Aiden, the reincarnation of Arwen, stood in front of him. She looked almost exactly as she did when he had seen her last when the city was unharmed. But the air which she carried herself was completely different.
She was wearing what looked like a torn and sheared dress that was dyed a deep, rich red and was made to her precise fitting and ended at a slant from her hip to her knee. Because the dress had been torn and reassembled into a sleeveless, torn-v-neck fashion, she wore the tattered sleeves just above her elbow and left the frays loose to distract her enemies' eyes. Her dark and ripped jeans hung a little loosely from her waist and they, too, were sheared at the bottom like the dress. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, showing her pointed ears and confirming her identity.
"Do you not believe your eyes, Elessar?" The Master taunted him, knowing how much it was torturing him. "Can you not see that even Elves can be turned to be allies of the Darkness? The proof is standing in front of you."
"You fucking bastard!" Aragorn screamed at it.
"Language, Elessar. I offer you a deal. You and your beloved can live together in a state you called happiness but on one condition."
Aragorn used all his self-control to hold back his tongue and his sword. Somewhere in his mind, he could feel that something was wrong. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw something shiny in Arwen's hand.
"The only thing I ask of you… is that you join the Darkness. Lay down your arms as a Holder of Light and fight with me. Together, with your beloved Arwen, we can create a world of freedom; one where passions and desires are within the reach of every living being in this world. Join me."
"And if I don't?" Aragorn said, barely audible. He never left the Master's gaze and found it hard to control the loathsome hatred he was feeling.
The Master paused, causing the air chill even more as it drew its breath. "Death and suffering shall fall upon you."
Aragorn had expected that answer. He wanted nothing more than a peaceful and loving life shared with Arwen but couldn't stand idly by as the human race was being slaughtered and enslaved. He had promised the Fellowship and the force of Light that he would fight the Darkness until the end of his days and he was not going to break his resolve now that he was so close to fulfilling that promise.
"I would gladly accept to die if the only other choice was to join the Darkness," he said coldly to the Master. He raised Anduril to an attacking position and his youthful energy and attitude returned. "Bring it on."
"… Very well. You have chosen your doom." The Master disappeared in front of his very eyes.
After a split second of confusion, he discovered what Arwen had been holding so elusively in her hand. The curved blade of the sword was thrust at him with deadly accuracy. Fortunately, the movement of her frayed sleeves had caught his eye and he had reacted quickly enough to block the attack with his own sword.
He stumbled backwards, stunned that she was actually attacking him. She was moving with the grace and agility of the Elves as well as a fighting style that was a blend of Rivendell and Lothlorien battle; something unique that also distinguished Arwen from other Elves.
She ran at him twirling her sword in the way all Elves did with the s-shaped blades that was associated with their race. With incredible strength and agility that she had obviously not acquired from this lifetime, her sword sliced through the air, eager to taste his blood.
Aragorn blocked Arwen's attacks to the best of his ability and received many shallow wounds but made no effort to return her aggression. He looked into her eyes that were once filled with the light of the stars she carried in her name but was dismayed to see a void of nothingness that shadowed her mind.
Their swords rang and echoed in the cavernous chamber. Two swords of equal strength, power and agility clashed in horrible tones when they should have been together in peace rather than in chaos and war.
Suddenly, Arwen's sword was raised above Aragorn, ready to defeat him. The fastest reaction he could muster barely got the flat of Anduril's blade in the path of it and gave him an opportunity.
"Arwen!" He called her name to her desperately. "Arwen, stop fighting! It's me, Aragorn! You don't have to fight!"
He stole a look at Arwen's sword and realized what it really was. The curved blade was truly the work of the Elves but the sword itself had been fashioned into a weapon of Darkness. It still contained the s-shape of the entire sword but the engravings of the Elvish vines and leaves were replaced by Mordor-like spikes of poison weed and the Sindarin inscriptions that had been on the original had been replaced by a form of writing that he assumed was Dark Speech. The entire sword was in mockery of the races of Light, especially the Elves, when it was wielded by Arwen.
"Hadhafang," muttered Aragorn when he recognized the original make.
"Wrong," she said with a trace of contempt and a sneer. She pushed hard at him and twirled her sword again, making him back away further to the wall. "This is MY sword, not Elrond's. This is more powerful since it carries Darkness instead. This is known as Hadhacalach, Light-Cleaver."
"Arwen, please!" Aragorn begged her to stop as she attacked again and again. "You don't know what you're doing!"
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she said dangerously. Her eyes were deep voids that surrounded and drew its power from surging rage and the pain of despair.
Their swords clashed again, cold metal with Light and Dark as their masters. This time, the Dark overpowered the Light and Anduril was wrenched out of Aragorn's hand and clattered out of the domed chamber. The metal rang with such clear tones as it slid out into the Lair that it seemed like it was calling Aragorn in desperation to pick it up again.
The tapered point of Arwen's sword was thousands more dangerous to Aragorn now that he lost his own sword. He kept a careful and fearful eye on it as he tried reasoning with the Elvish princess.
"Arwen," he said gently, trying to use the soft tones he used with her in the past, "why are you so angry? Why do you thirst to see my body stripped of all life? You surrendered yourself to the Darkness because of a lingering hatred for something that belongs to Light. What made you so angry?"
She glared at him and sliced her sword again. She circled him, leading him along the wall. He could see the red light of the Lair flicker near him with faint shafts of white light appearing.
He was being herded back into the Lair. The cries and shrieks of all the demons of Darkness still echoed through the doorway that had opened when Anduril had slid through.
"You." Her voice was low but he could hear every word. "You are why such chaos rages in my mind and heart. You, yourself are why your blood will paint the stone of the Lair."
"What?"
"I had given you my love, my soul. I waited for you with quiet patience for your return whenever you left Imladris. Every moment you were gone was a pain in my heart. Every moment you were with me was an unparalleled joy. I was happiest by your side and saddest by myself. It was my greatest desire to hear you say that you felt the same."
"I did. And I do." He could feel himself getting forced to leave the room. "So, why? What did I do wrong?"
"You left me!" Her anger echoed. The sword tip wavered dangerously. "We promised to be together until the end of our days and I believed it like a fool. I waited patiently with hope that the War of the Ring would end with the destruction of Mordor and the news that I could finally wed the one I had loved. But the message sent to Imladris was bittersweet, wasn't it?
"Imagine the pain I felt when I heard that your body was found in front of the Black Gates! I thought my heart was literally being torn to pieces! The pain was too horrible, too great to endure. I resented the crushing pain that love could deliver until… it was too much for me to handle. So, I…" She became breathless as her memory played in her mind.
They were now in the area leading from the domed chamber. To Aragorn, it echoed the architecture and viciousness of Rome's famous amphitheatre, the Coliseum.
"What did you do?" Aragorn asked slowly, almost afraid to know the answer.
"You often asked why I was so interested in daggers at school, Aaron," she said girlishly. "It's because I once felt the merciful release from pain by them."
Aragorn had been told that she had taken her own life but refused to believe it. Hearing that she had killed herself to escape the pain that he had caused awakened a multitude of mixed emotions in his heart. He was stunned into speechlessness by her words.
"And now, you'll have the pleasure of feeling a cold blade drain your life away!"
She rushed at him again, sensing his vulnerability from hearing of her suicide.
His warrior's instinct switched on immediately through his emotions. Reaching to the small of his back, he whipped out the Lorien dagger he kept with him and diverted her attack, sending her off-balanced around him.
So full of hate, he thought to himself, and so unforgiving… Arwen couldn't have been capable of such rage, could she?
She rounded on him again with an underhanded attack. Her ripped sleeves swayed delicately as she moved. Again, she was blocked by Aragorn's dagger. She had felt that he was holding back on his attacks, like he was holding onto the past they once had.
No, he thought, the Arwen I fell in love with was never capable of hating someone she loved. I loved her… and she loved me. That's why I must do this.
At once, Arwen could feel a new power come from him and felt the slightest stirrings of feat like she had never known. Was this the power of Light that all Darkness feared?
Aragorn glared at her with fierce determination. With strength he never used with her before, he thrust her sword away from him and brought his dagger back down across her side, causing red blood to flow out. As if to react before he changed his mind, he kicked her on her fresh wound.
She let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain that echoed through the Lair as she fell backwards. The pain was unbelievable and real but she clenched her jaw and got to her feet, determined to kill him.
Though he was trying as hard as he could to hold back his tears, he could feel a couple droplets fall onto his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Arwen…"
With all his might, he drew his arm back and threw his dagger straight into her abdomen, just beneath her ribs. He was aiming for her heart.
She gasped in surprise when the blade was driven into her. Her fingers touched the warm blood that was pouring out of her from the dagger and began to feel the life slowly seep out of her. The familiar feeling of weightlessness became apparent and she felt a sudden release and relief wash over her.
"Arwen!" Unable to stand by any longer, he rushed over and caught her as she fell.
"Aragorn…"
He realized that the entire cavern was filled with a pure light instead of the light of the flames that was present when they came in. Maybe it was this new light but he thought Arwen had somehow changed.
Her hand weakly grasped his as death came closer upon her. Aragorn held her close, not wanting to let go but knowing she had to die in his arms. Tears fell onto her hair and he tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm sorry, Arwen. I didn't want… I-I had to. I'm so sorry."
With the remaining strength she had, she reached up to his face and laid a final kiss on his lips as Arwen Undomiel once more.
"Thank you, Aragorn," she whispered, her eyes filled with an old shine. Then, all strength left her and she passed into the afterlife to live on as the Evenstar in the night sky.
The Dark Master melted from the shadows of the area as Aragorn wept for Arwen. It still radiated a sense of danger, intimidation and smug superiority but a faint feeling of panic and fear pervaded through its mask of invincibility. The cracks in the Darkness' foundation were growing deeper.
The Lair was well-lit now with the pure light of Earendil and the fleeting ghost figures of the Army of Middle-Earth. The air itself still reeked of the stench of rotting corpses and the wastes of the thousands of wild creatures that lived in the Lair but it seemed to be easier to breathe. The light and shadows threw the Dark Master into stunning clarity.
"You see me now on the brink of revolution," the Dark Master said and spread its arms. "I may look weak and shriveled from the harm you and your comrades have done to my Lair but no more! I shall bring the Light's destruction into this world personally."
A giant wave of Darkness exploded from the Master and shook the foundations of the Lair. The enslaved souls of the shadows emerged from the depths of the stone, countering the Light's magic and surrounded all the members of the Fellowship.
"The stars will weep and die as the last defense of the force of Light is destroyed."
Aragorn could hear the shadow warriors splashing their way out of the pool of Light. He saw Gimli and Legolas draw their weapons and turn their backs on him to fight. Almost directly above them on a higher level, Frodo and Sam were trying to descend the rock face while defending against the shadows that reached out to grab them. Behind him, he could hear Gandalf instructing Merry and Pippin while using his powerful wizard's staff. All of them were dangerously close to the edges.
"One by one, the Nine Holders of Light shall fall."
"Wait!"
But it was too late. The shadow warriors had forced the Fellowship off their individual platforms and sent them plummeting to the ground level of the deadly amphitheatre.
Aragorn could only watch in horror as his friends fell to their deaths. But gangly hands and arms of shadow reached out and grabbed the falling Fellowship and landed them roughly, but unscathed, to the lowest level where Aragorn and the Dark Master were. The shadowy arms and hands remained bound around the Fellowship, turning into real, physical sludge that trapped them.
"Wait, you say?" The Dark Master sounded interested and eager. It was waiting for this.
"Let them go. Don't let anymore destruction happen."
The Dark Master laughed maniacally. "Are you asking for a deal? Fine. You become my servant and I shall release your friends. If you decline my offer, they shall become my servants and I will command them to kill you right here and now."
Gandalf, even while he was trying to get rid of the binding sludge, could see that Aragorn was torn between two very strong thoughts. "Don't agree to this, Aragorn! Leave us and run!"
"What will you do, Aragorn?" The Dark Master taunted him ruthlessly. "Will you join me? Or will you let your friends join me?"
The thoughts raced through his mind. What was he going to do? If he sacrificed himself for the sake of his friends, the Darkness would undoubtedly use him to attack them. If he declined, he was going to be the one hunted by his own friends who he betrayed. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, he thought.
He tried looking towards the rest of the Fellowship for help, but that just made it more difficult. They were putting up a brilliant fight even though they were all tired, beaten and injured. The sludge they managed to get off of them simply kept going back, restraining them where they were.
Legolas couldn't handle it anymore. Struggling against the heavy arms that were trying to restrain him, he slowly drew out an arrow and put it in his bow. He could feel Gimli beside him chopping and hacking away at the sludge that just kept coming back.
He saw Aragorn's mouth open to give his response and he drew his bow with enormous effort against his restraints.
Don't you even dare, Aragorn! Legolas thought.
With shaking arms, he aimed at the Dark Master and released his arrow.
The arrow shot at the Dark Master's head with such speed and force that it tore off its head and sent it bouncing across the floor. As soon as it detached from the body, it oozed out a strange black substance that wasn't blood, bone or flesh. The head bounced across the room and came to a rest near Arwen's body.
Gandalf, following Legolas' lead, charged up a blast of Light with his wizard's staff and shot at the remaining part of the Dark Master's body.
It exploded into chunks and globs of the same substance as the head and scattered in a small area around where it stood. The pieces writhed in pain and haunting spikes reached out into the air like they were trying to grasp some sort of relief from the blinding pain.
The sludge binding the Fellowship pulsed for a moment and released them, turning back to shadows once more.
Shaking, Sam looked around. "Is it over? Did we do it?"
The whole Fellowship stared at the quivering lumps of slimy black matter. Their hearts hammered in their chests in frightened anticipation as their eyes followed the slime.
The writhing slowed to a stop and the Fellowship breathed a sigh of relief.
"We should notify Boromir and the spirits," Gandalf sighed. "The War is over."
With absolutely no warning at all, the black slime shook again with more life than ever. They squirmed and began crawling towards each other, concentrated at the centre of the explosion. Through some kind of Dark magic, the pieces started assembling together back into a body that the Master could use. Piece by piece, bit by bit, the Dark Master reemerged from the dead filled with more vengeance than ever.
Frodo's shoulder was agonizing now that he was so close to the heart of Darkness. He could almost feel the magic pulse within his shoulder, threatening to spread throughout his body. The ancient wound was almost blinding him with pain and blood kept stinging his right eye from his new wound.
He felt his head lift on its own accord and saw the Dark Master reforming in front of him and felt his shoulder flare with excruciating pain. He knew the Master was playing with him but this time he was glad it did.
Beyond it was its old cloaked head in a pool of Arwen's blood. It was dissolving and bubbling in a form that was obvious it was trapped and dying. Part of it was still intact but immediately began to dissolve and melt into oblivion at the first contact with the Elvish princess' blood.
"It's blood," Frodo choked out, still holding his shoulder. "It's our blood!"
"What're you talking about?" Sam asked in a slight panic. "Of course it's our blood that's going to spill!"
"No, that's not what I'm talking about!" He clambered onto his feet and, pushing all the pain he felt out of his mind, he pointed to the head in the pool of blood. "It's the blood of Light! It can't touch it or else it melts, see?"
In that moment, Gandalf realized why the Dark Master couldn't kill them by its own hand. Their blood and flesh were infused with the force of Light and were extremely potent to a being of pure Darkness. Arwen, though corrupted by the Darkness, still retained enough Light when she died for her blood to damage the Master. If it destroyed the Master's head with that little Light in her blood, how strong could theirs be?
"Merry, quick!" He commanded the Hobbit and his scythe. "Before it fully returns to power, draw a circle of blood with Arwen's. Fly!"
Merry dashed as fast as he could to the girl's body just as the shadows began to form around their feet once more.
"MOVE!" Gimli shouted to them and pushed Legolas to get him moving. "Don't stay still or the shadows will get you and tie you down like a rabbit snare."
Their feet stuck to the shadows on the ground at first but their agility kept them out of trouble for the moment. All of them kept a careful eye on the Master and its progress as they ran and tried to figure out how to defeat it. As they watched it become more collected, they noticed that the arms and hands grasping at them got faster and faster. Soon, their cloaks and weapons were getting snagged by the eerie shadows.
Merry swallowed a lump in his throat when he approached Arwen's body with his scythe in hand. He knew now that she was the one who the spirits had cried out for in such mournful tones. In his heart, he asked her for forgiveness and strength as he covered the blunt end of his scythe in her blood. As an afterthought, he dipped his blade into her blood as well.
Once his scythe had sufficient blood on it, he raced across the stone straight towards the Dark Master. Sensing powerful magic around it, he instinctively turned sharply and dragged the end of his scythe on the ground and circled it, trapping it in.
Legolas ran by his present cousin's body and saw his arrow. He made a mad run for it and picked it up as he passed. All of a sudden, he could hear tiny screams and yelps beneath his feet. He looked behind him and realized that he had stepped in her blood and it was protecting him from the shadows.
"God, Aiden," Legolas whispered sadly to himself. He whipped the excess blood off his arrow at a group of looming arms and hands near Gimli and pulled out the phial filled with the Light of Earendil.
Across the room, Gandalf's eye was caught by the shimmering Light of Earendil. He looked at Legolas' arrow in his hand and the reason for the phial was apparent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the Dark Master was almost finished regenerating itself. The top of his staff began to shine brightly as he focused his energy to it.
Frodo had run to Aragorn, completely ignoring the pain his body endured. "Aragorn! Aragorn, I have to tell you something!"
The Man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of a torrent of shadow hands. His eyes barely hid the confusion and chaos his soul was feeling but he could understand that Frodo knew something to defeat the Darkness. "What? What is it?"
"Our blood," he told him as they kept moving. "It's made up with a lot of Light and the Darkness can't handle that! We need to get that thing to touch some of our blood! It's the only way we can defeat it!"
The Dark Master looked even worse than ever, if that was possible. Its form, which used to be enveloped in a tattered, billowing cloak, was now shifting and almost dripping like a fluid being without a defined shape. Crumbling and with its body wriggling like it was out of control, it tried attacking Pippin, who was closest to it.
The instant it tried crossing the ring of blood surrounding it, the Light reacted with its core magic and gave it a powerful shock.
Pippin felt his heart stop in fear when the Dark Master lunged at him, shadows creeping around him. He was just about to walk into a particularly dark cluster of shadows without noticing when Aragorn grabbed him rather forcefully and pulled him away. He was being led to Arwen's dead body.
Aragorn pulled his dagger out of her, hoping that his plan would work. He eyed Pippin from head to toe as they stood in the pool of blood. "You didn't get a cut? Nothing?"
Pippin shook his head.
"Lucky bastard." As quickly as he could, he wiped away most of Arwen's blood from his dagger. He grabbed Sam as he passed and yanked him into he puddle of safety as well. "You're staying here, Sam."
Sam and Pippin exchanged nervous glances, not knowing what he was going to do.
The shining light of Gandalf's staff had come to a stop a few meters from the edge of the ring of blood. Gandalf had long known that his own blood had smeared across his staff and would normally be irritated by this on any day besides that day. Now, he was praising Eru and the Eldar that his blood was there.
A ghostly hand grasped the staff from behind him and strengthened the magic of the wizard Boromir gave him a faint smile when he turned his head.
"There isn't a Fellowship without all nine of us," Boromir said. His hand faintly glowed and the staff's light grew even stronger.
Merry pole-vaulted over a great clump of materializing shadows to Gandalf and Boromir and, with a flash of brilliant silver from his deathly scythe, he dispelled half of the enemy. Turning to Gandalf and Boromir, he pulled his scythe down and cut his left palm. He gripped the staff and all three of them saw the staff's light grow steadily stronger.
The Dark Master saw the Fellowship prepare for their attack from three directions at once. The wizard, a ghost and a Hobbit stood near him with a blinding light from the wizard's staff. The Elf, the Dwarf and the Hobbit with a bleeding eye held the Light of Earendil and prepared one of the Elf's arrows. Aragorn and the remaining two Hobbits hovered by the dead girl with the dagger of Lothlorien. Its chances were not good. It was losing.
More shadows gathered around the Dark Master and filled the air as deadly shards of Darkness. More lethal than any arrow in the world and surging with supernatural energy, the shards shot towards all the members of the Fellowship at the Master's command.
Most of the Fellowship had long engrained the instinct of defending with their swords against any incoming object in their minds but all of them, including Boromir, had been cut with the Dark magic. Boromir felt the pain of the shards cut and sting his ghostly skin and a little bit of life drain from him.
The Fellowship had prepared themselves for the onslaught of the shards when they first appeared and used their swords and blades to block them. The shards shattered into nothing when they hit their weapons but many had sliced the Fellowship's arms, sides and legs, staining their clothes and skin with red.
Legolas had soaked one of his last arrows with the Light of Earendil but he could feel it vibrating with a strange energy as his blood touched the arrow's feather flights.
Sensing the arrow, Frodo hastily wiped his eye to get it free of some blood and took the arrow from Legolas. Him, Legolas and Gimli could almost feel the lethal power it was now carrying.
Gimli snatched the arrow from Frodo and wiped some of his own blood onto the arrowhead. Now, with its head, shaft and flights blessed with the blood of three of the Nine Holders of Light as well as the Light of Earendil, the power it wielded was unlike any other in history but nowhere powerful enough to destroy the Darkness.
As Legolas glanced around the room to see his other Fellowship members, he noticed that they were all exactly the same distance from each other around the blood ring. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he slid his arrow into his bow.
Twining both staffs together with the power of Gandalf and Merry's blood smeared across both shafts doubled the wizard's staff's power. Boromir vigilantly kept his ghostly hand wrapped around both staffs and carefully focused his energy and boosted the power of the light shining at the top of the staffs even more. All three of them raised the charged staffs and aimed at the Dark Master.
Aragorn had collected Sam and Pippin's blood on his hand and, their blood mixed with his own dripping down his arm, he gripped his Lorien dagger. As his, Sam's, Pippin's and Arwen's blood mingled with each other on his dagger, the three boys could feel the last barrier holding back the Light's true power crumble within them. Aragorn drew his arm back and aimed carefully at the Master.
After this whole ordeal, none of them could figure out if it were their imaginations or not but all Nine claimed that they could see white wings accompany each of their attacks.
Whether or not it was an act of fate was undecided but all three attacks were unleashed at once.
Three streaks of Light – one from an arrow infused with the power of the Stars, one from the ancient powers of the Istari and loyalty of Middle-Earth, and one from the twirling dagger thrown by the hand of the King of Men and powered by Hobbits, Elves and Men – all converged on the Dark Master in an unstoppable force guided by the Fellowship, Nine Holders of Light.
Unable to defend itself from such an attack, the Dark Master had no place to run and was spliced by the three-pronged attack. It made no noise as the Light traveled through its body, the Fellowship's blood canceling its very core of existence and killing it with the only thing that could possibly destroy it. The arrow and dagger were stuck to its body, causing physical pain as well as magical.
Finally, it let out a damned shriek into the corners of the Lair in defeat. The Light that had infected it threw shafts of white light through its body from within, creating more crevices and cracks in its body. With an echoing wail that crossed the boundaries of time, the Dark Master exploded to pieces and its body was reduced to ash, dust and shadow.
In seconds of the Dark Master's defeat, a deep rumbling was felt beneath their feet.
"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked over the noise. "The Master's gone! Shouldn't things be getting back to normal now, not get worse?"
Aragorn knew this rumbling under his feet very well and he knew what had happened. "It's Uruk-Hai and Orcs! They're rampaging around the Lair because they don't have a leader now! They're all in a state of chaos!"
"I'll get the remaining spirits to help!" Boromir shouted. He faded into the air and summoned the spirits of Middle-Earth to keep fighting.
They all heard and felt the confused and panicked legions of Darkness come nearer. The roars of Uruk-Hai, the snarls of Orcs and the screeching of Neos were all unmistakably closer then they had been before. Unfortunately, they could see no exit on all sides of them in the amphitheatre. They were trapped.
It was faint but Legolas and the four Hobbits could hear a whistling sound that wasn't of the Lair. It sounded like it was distant and muffled. In a second, the whole Lair found out what it was.
A high-energy explosive collided with the upper wall of the Lair. A second, third and fourth came rocketing into the Lair, making a humongous hole for anything to come through. The fourth missile was slightly lower, making a crack that split the wall all the way to the amphitheatre.
The Fellowship stood in shock, momentarily wondering what to do. However, their rescue was already planned out for them so they didn't have to do a thing. Their method of rescue was something they were not expecting.
A roar came from outside that was only familiar to Gandalf's ears.
"DRAGONS?"
Two pairs of scaled dragon wings burst into the Lair following their sleek heads. Metal extensions had been attached to their already razor-sharp claws and their abdomen armor plates glistened in the reflected light of the purified pool. One dragon had a dark red tint to its scales and the other had a blue metallic shine to its own scales. Together, their bursts of fire wrought destruction on the Lair and caused many minions to flee in terror.
The Fellowship gathered together as rocks and stone cascaded around them. As the dragons soared overhead with fire pouring from their mouths, the crack in the amphitheatre deepened but not enough to release them from the Lair.
"Shit," Gimli cursed. "We're trapped! What the hell are we going to do?"
"Are we going to die here?" Merry asked, barely above the noise around them. His friends around him stayed silent in response but he knew from their silence. They were staring death in the face.
A giant, silver snake-like creature flew into the Lair and circled the ceiling. It curled and swerved around the dragons, spiraling down through the platforms into the amphitheatre. Its front legs, which were tucked into its chest as it was flying, stretched out and clawed the ground as it slowed to a stop around the Fellowship.
"That-that-that's…" Pippin stammered as he stared at the new creature now examining them.
"An Asian dragon!" Legolas said aloud. The dragon's deep jade eyes were vaguely familiar to his mind.
Satisfied that they were indeed the Fellowship, the dragon raised its head and called to its comrades. Despite its size and strength, the silver dragon was gentle and protective when it curled itself around the Fellowship like a cocoon.
They couldn't see anything except for the dragon's scales but they could feel two huge surges of intense heat come from different directions above them. They could feel the shockwave of the twin explosions as they ripped the stone wall apart. Despite being only about fifteen meters away from the blast, the Fellowship received no harm because of the protective dragon coiled around them.
It carefully unwrapped itself from them and raced outside of the Lair through the large hole that the other dragons made. The short tunnel was short but dangerously unstable.
Though exhausted beyond belief, Merry and Pippin glanced at each other. They glanced at Frodo and Sam. The adrenaline rushing through their bodies made them giddy even though they knew it was no time to be laughing.
Pippin smirked and tapped Merry, Frodo and Sam. "Race you."
"You're on!" They all said.
All at once, the four Hobbits dashed towards the exit, mostly focusing on running as fast as they could away from the Lair. Calling after them followed the rest of the Fellowship, who caught up with them soon enough.
Aragorn hesitated midway through the short tunnel and looked back at Arwen's body, trying to decide. Legolas grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the tunnel into the barren field that lay around the Lair. Legolas shouted to him as the structure inside began to crumble, "We have to get some distance away from the fucking building or we'll be seeing her sooner than we want to!"
But as they ran as hard as they could, Aragorn saw the silver dragon slither back into the Lair only to come out moments later with some things clutched in its claws.
A rush of Uruk-Hai, Orcs, Neos and other Darkness-controlled creatures poured out of the Lair in attempts to escape the burning hell that was inside. The structure of the Lair was crackling and the deep fissures caused by the constant missiles launched onto the Lair were creeping into the foundations of the entire base.
With scores of monsters running behind them, the Fellowship had no choice but to run straight ahead. The sky was lightening behind them and the stars above them winked and sparkled with life, encouraging them all to escape death.
A forest had appeared overnight around the Lair and the cliffs surrounding it. Directly in front of them, they could just make out about a dozen people situated in sparse locations in the treetops.
"Just get into the trees!" A voice, young and clear, yelled out to them. "We'll take care of the rest!"
Summoning every last cell to use their strength, the Fellowship continued to run towards the forest. They could feel their exhaustion slowing them down and the last of their energy giving out of them. They struggled to reach the tree line.
Luckily, several trees moved forward, picked them up and placed them into their branches, by someone's orders that were called out into the night. Once the Fellowship was safely in the branches of the Ents, the same voice that called to them rang out again.
"Now! Hado i philinn!"
Arrows launched from the treetops towards the creatures that were now flooding into the forest. In the distance, the Lair continued to crumble from the destruction without and within. It now looked like a ruin of something that was once great, powerful and supreme, like castles of old that sat in sad disrepair.
Frodo could feel his body shutting down due to the extreme stress he and his friends had to endure but he forced himself to stay awake. Near him, to his left, he heard the crackle of an electronic communications radio and someone speaking through it.
"Yes, ma'am," someone said into the radio, "they're looking like they walked through the circles of hell, purgatory and limbo but they're all alive."
Another electronic message was sent through the radio that Frodo couldn't understand. A second later, a series of flashes came from the branches to his left that were aimed upwards to someone on the highest branch of the highest tree there.
The person understood and held their hand high. Crackles of a full-spread transmission were heard all around the Fellowship and around the Lair. The Fellowship could barely hear it but saw the results immediately.
All firing ceased to a stop and the object in the person's hand began to glow.
"Brace yourselves! Hold onto something steady!" The clear voice called to the Fellowship.
All of the people sitting in the trees clutched the trunks tightly and the trees and Ents rooted themselves to the solid earth. The Dark creatures ran frantically on the ground but they were ignored; this was much more important.
The object in the person's hand pulsed faintly in the oncoming dawn. Rings of light barely seen throbbed around the hand as the morning rays of pink and gold light shot across the sky.
A stillness that only dawn could bring settled across the field.
A great inhalation was heard from the Lair, like it was preparing for one last breath of life. Huge shafts of light pierced through all the orifices that exposed it to the outside world.
An ear-splitting explosion cascaded across the field when the power of the twin dragons was unleashed upon the structure. The two dragons were flying high, forced out of the Lair by their own blasts but relatively unharmed due to their superior armor and natural defenses.
The Lair burst into millions of pieces from the inside and it crumbled in a spectacular display that could only describe the image of seeing an evil being destroyed. Like a puppet without strings, the Lair collapsed to nothing but a pile of wrecked stone and debris of a dead threat.
The Fellowship did not see the destruction of the Lair.
The enormous shockwave that was caused by the explosion hit the forest like a sudden wind with speeds comparable to a tropical hurricane. To the members of the Fellowship, it felt like a brick wall had smashed into them.
All of them held onto the trees but quickly slipped into unconsciousness. The Ents carrying them managed to secure most of them but Legolas relinquished his control over his Elvish blood and suddenly felt a hundred times more tired than before.
He dropped suddenly from the branches to be caught by something that flashed silver beneath him.
The last thing he remembered before slipping into the bliss of sleepy oblivion was clear voices calling for medical help…
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A/N: FINALLY FINISHED!
I have NOTHING against Arwen, okay? I just thought that it'd make a nice little plot twist. So don't flame me, for Eru's sake!
1 chapter left.
Next chapter: The End of All Things.