Author's Note: The tension builds! Well, not really. You people know what happen.
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This was it. All of the battles, all of the stress, all of the tension had built up to this moment. It was time to challenge Sauron himself. So naturally, in this critical time, no one knew what course of action to take. Berethor, Idrial, Elegost, Hadhod, Morwen, Eaoden, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Eomer had gathered in the throne room of Minas Tirith to discuss options.
"Frodo has passed beyond my site," Gandalf said quietly. No one could hold back their troubled looks. "The darkness is deepening," The White Wizard continued.
"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it." Aragorn said tersely. He had his back to everyone, facing the giant windows with his arms crossed. He sounded bitter and worried for his small friend. Gandalf sighed.
"It's only a matter of time," He said. There was a long silence at these words. Idrial looked to the ground. Elegost stared at Aragorn's back, as though waiting for the other Ranger to say something back. Berethor shifted over so that he was closer to Morwen.
The problem? They all knew Gandalf was right. "He has suffered a great defeat, yes," Gandalf said. "But behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping." Gimli, who was sitting on the throne that had once been Denethor's, took a puff on his pipe and spoke up.
"Let him stay there," He said. The dwarf's voice then rose to a loud snarl, "Let him rot! Why should we care?"
"Here, here!" Hadhod added. "Let the monster stew in his own muck!" Gandalf slowly turned around to face them.
"Because ten-thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," he said. Gimli reddened slightly in embarrassment and took his pipe out of his mouth. Gandalf shook his head, his eyes wide with understanding. "I've sent him to his death," He mumbled more to himself than the others.
"No."
Aragorn turned around and uncrossed his arms. "No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time, and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoth. We can give him that." He said, glancing at his friends meaningfully. Berethor's eyes narrowed in thought, and then snapped open wide in clarity.
"He wants us to what?" He whispered, suddenly understanding what Aragorn was suggesting.
"How?" Gimli asked, still not quite caught on. Aragorn looked around, meeting everyone's eye.
"We draw out Sauron's armies- Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Gimli choked hard on his pipe, and Hadhod gave him a whack on the back.
"What strength are you thinking we have?" Idrial asked, stepping forward. "Many of the men of Gondor and Rohan were wiped out in the siege- We have only a couple hundred left!" Eomer nodded in agreement with the elf.
"Idrial is right- We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." He said. Aragorn nodded.
"You are both right," He admitted. " Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." He shot a look to Berethor and Elegost. "Keep him blind to all else that moves."
"A diversion," Legolas muttered, nodding. Elegost nodded slowly.
"So Frodo could sneak past and destroy the Ring without Sauron ever being aware of his presence." He said. He looked at his five companions. "It could work. Even if we don't survive, there are others who could rebuild if the Ring is destroyed."
"Yes, without the burden of the Orcs and Nazgul," Eaoden said. Gandalf shook his head and went up to Aragorn.
"Sauron will suspect a trap," he said. "He will not take the bait." Aragorn smirked slyly, as though he knew something no one else did.
"Oh, I think he will," he argued gently. Gimli chuckled.
"Certainty of death," he said. "Small chance of success," He nodded, and said wryly "What are we waiting for?"
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And so, the next day, every soldier in Minas Tirith, from both Gondor and Rohan, marched off for the Black Gate. Aragorn rode ahead, wearing royal looking battle attire. Legolas and Gimli were on a horse next to him, with Gandalf and Pippin nearby. Merry hitched a ride with Eomer, and Berethor's company rode on their own horses. The ride was silent and tense with fear.
"Well Ranger," Hadhod said. "It would appear we've reached the end of the story."
"Don't be so negative, Hadhod. It's not set in stone that we're all going to die." He smirked. "Remember Helms Deep? How hopeless you thought it was then? And then when we were going off to help against the siege?" Hadhod nodded.
"Aye," He muttered. "You were always an optimistic one, Ranger. Always believing in hope," Hadhod snorted. "Always made me sick with that belief as well," But he said nothing more about the impending battle that awaited them. Elegost knew that, despite Hadhod's coldness, the dwarf had hope.
Elegost could see that his friends were tense, so he tried to lighten the mood slightly. "Well," he said a wry voice. "At least it isn't raining. Remember Helms Deep, when we were all in our armor in the rain?" Berethor's smirked, and the corner of Legolas' mouth twitched. "It sounded like a bloody symphony, with all the sounds the rain on the metal was making." Morwen giggled, and Idrial smiled wryly.
But the smiles became dispirited when they reached the Black Gate. The soldiers arranged themselves so that they were almost in a circle full of rows. For a moment, there was silence. "Where are they?" Pippin whispered from Shadowfax. Aragorn looked around, and then urged his horse forward, signaling for his friends to follow.
The ten riders charged up to the Gate and looked up. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!" He called. There was a pause. Just when Berethor was about to say something, a loud, vicious creaking noise sounded. The Black Gate was opening. But when the doors parted, they saw that only one soldier was there. He sat upon a black horse, with a large, black, spiked helmet set over his head so that his eyes appeared to be covered.
He moved his horse forward, and approached the group. There was silence, until he spoke. His voice was deep, and scratched like an un-greased wheel. Idrial gritted her teeth when she heard it. "Who here believe they have the authority to treat with me?" The creature grunted.
"We do not come here to treat, minion of Sauron," Gandalf said coldly. When he spoke, the creature whipped its head around to the sound of the voice. He grinned, and his slashed mouth revealed disgusting, filed and bloody teeth.
"Old Grey-beard," he said mockingly. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee," The creature reached down, and ripped up a shirt from the back of his horse. Berethor recognized the material as Mithril, a metal used mostly by the elves and dwarves. He wasn't certain what it meant, but it was clearly something bad. The creature tossed the shirt to Gandalf, who looked horrified as he caught it.
"Frodo…" Pippin whispered, his eyes wide. "Frodo!"
"Be silent," Gandalf whispered, though he too looked stricken at the sight of the shirt.
"No!" Merry cried, and the creature whipped his head towards the Hobbit.
"Silence!" Gandalf said sharply. The creature chuckled darkly.
"The halfling was dear to thee, I see." He hissed.
"What did you do, you vile creature?" Idrial snarled, glaring at the creature when he turned to face her.
"That is not your affair, She-Elf," He said loudly. "If I am not mistaken, you were not one of the nine from Rivendell. You never even met the halfling." Idrial looked ready to attack the creature, but Legolas reached over and touched her arm. There was grief in both his and Gimli's eyes.
"The mithril shirt was Frodo's," He whispered to both Idrial and her companions.
"It is hard to believe how someone so small could endure so much pain," Sauron's Mouth said. "And he suffered, Gandalf Greyhame." Without warning, Aragorn nudged his horse forward. The Mouth of Sauron turned. "And who is this? Isildur's heir?" He asked snidely. "It takes more to make a king then some broken elvish blade-"
With a sudden, furious cry, Aragorn ripped his sword from its scabbard and decapitated the Mouth of Sauron. "I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli mumbled.
"I do not believe it! I will not! Aragorn snarled. The Mouth of Sauron's horse went charging back into Mordor, and in the distance, Berethor saw none other than Sauron's Eye whirling to glare at them, sensing the death of his underling.
Boom, boom, boom.
The Orcs were marching. They could see the flags and the disgusting creatures that held them coming. "Fall back," Aragorn said, not immediately taking his eyes off the Orcs. "Fall back!" The battle chants of the Orcs rang in Morwen's ears as she and her friends charged back to the lines of men. "Hold your ground!" Aragorn cried. "Hold your ground." He swung his horse along the line of men in front of him. They looked scared and forlorn.
"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" The King cried. The men seemed slightly enlightened by this, and moved forward a bit. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come, when the courage of men fails," He said. "When we forsake our friends, and brake all bonds of Fellowship."
At this moment, Berethor felt his journey pass through his eyes again: being attacked by the Nazgul in Eregion, and meeting Idrial. Traveling to the pass of Caradhras, and "saving" Elegost from the Wargs he had been hunting. Following him back through a part of Eregion to meet Hadhod, and finding the map that led them to Moria. Seeing the Balrog, and watching Gandalf fall.
Escaping the mines, and traveling to Lothlorien. The stay had been brief, but memorable. Reaching the East Emnet Gullies and meeting with Idrial's brother, Aranel, and finding Gandalf again. From there to Rohan, where they met Morwen and Eaoden. The Battle of Helms Deep flashed before him- the carnage, the pain of seeing children being fitted for battle. The inner turmoil he felt at the thought of Morwen and Idrial. How silly those worries seemed now.
The Battle of Pelennor Fields, the Siege on Minas Tirith, and splitting of him, Morwen and Eaoden with Idrial, Elegost and Hadhod when they went to the Paths of the Dead with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. The pain he had felt when he was stabbed repeatedly by an Orc. And the pure joy he had felt when Morwen had found him, and he knew she was not seriously hurt. All of that leading up to this one, defining battle.
Aragorn was still talking. "But it is not this day," He said determinedly. "An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day, we fight!"
Berethor thought of his family- thankfully safe and sound, with his father and brother still in the Houses of Healing back in Minas Tirith. He thought of his friends, and the people they had lost to Sauron. Morwen had lost her parents, Idrial her many kin at Helms Deep. Hadhod had lost all of his sons when they went to Moria with Balin all those years ago. The pain of those losses was what spurred them to fight.
"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!" Aragorn roared, unsheathing Anduril and holding it high and proud. The Orcs had almost surrounded them by now, as the riders dismounted their horses. Merry and Pippin were shifting around, tense but ready to fight. Berethor sighed, and steeled himself. He turned to his companions- his dear friends.
"Good luck to you all," He said. Elegost nodded.
"And to you, Berethor of Gondor," He said, his right fist over his heart in salute. Morwen discreetly clasped his hand, and Idrial nodded.
"Luck," she said, glancing down at everyone. Now the army of men was completely surrounded. Gimli sighed.
"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf," he muttered gruffly. Legolas smiled and looked down at him.
"How about fighting side by side with a friend?" He asked. Gimli thought about it for a moment and then nodded.
"Aye. I could do that." He said softly. Legolas looked down the line and met Idrial's eyes. He smiled and mouthed 'Luck'. Aragorn raised his sword, and looked head-on at the army. But then, something seemed to catch his gaze. The Eye of Sauron was looking right at him. There was a pause, and Aragorn seemed to relax slightly. He took a few steps forward, and Elegost's eyes narrowed.
"What is he doing?" he whispered to Eaoden.
"I don't know," The Outrider replied. Aragorn swung his sword down slowly so that it was at his side, and he took another step towards Mordor. Then he turned back to face his friends. There was a long, suspenseful silence. A small smile appeared on the King's face and he whispered,
"For Frodo,"
He raised his sword again, and then took off at a charge to the Gate. Pippin and Merry were the first to let out Battle cries and charge after him. Gandalf raised his staff high, Berethor his sword. Morwen swung her axes, with Gimli and Hadhod, and Elegost and Legolas shots arrows at the Orc army. As they plunged into the army, the Last Battle for Middle Earth began.
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