Indur sat alone, his gaze sweeping almost gently over the city bellow him.( I had this once, a small world of my own… smaller by far than the impressive realms of my brethren. Just a small world, peaceful, now and again visited by other kings from other lands…my brethren who had other things than Sauron's will as their concern… Back in a time… when the fate of others was my concern…) The wraith smiled softly, (it was folly, all of it, I took three queens in my mortal time, each unable to bear me an heir without it costing them their lives, such wasted lives… my line were fated to die with me.

Murazor I did not meet face to face until both he and I were ensnared. Nor did I know Khamul, or Dwar. Ren I had seen in brief passing, but we had never spoken. I was close with Uvatha… good man Uvatha, loved horses. And none could best him when it came to his horsemanship, let there be no doubt of that! I wouldn't dare even mount with him watching! Least I get on my beast backwards!) The lights started to extinguish one by one in the windows of Minas Tirith, a breeze swept up the seven rings of the city to trail threw his cloak. The silence was pleasant enough, and the night was warm. Had there been the slight smell of salt in the air it would have been bliss.

(Ah… Murazor never knew how well off he was, to have his kingdom right on the sea line. I would never have traded; mine was pleasant enough, a tad too mountainous for most people's tastes. Sometimes, even too much so for mine, probably the elf blood in me… but all Numoreans have some in them, was that not what set us apart?) A blossom drifted on the wind, settling into his tangled mane, and the last light in the city faded into blackness.

… …

…Light filters threw the trees… and the breeze blows threw the glen…

The streams all flash with silver… from the little fish within…

A smell so clean to clear my head… below my skies so bright…

A sun with rays all golden spun… and perfumed hours of night…

I love this land I call my own… I love each field and glen,

Each piece of bark from every trunk, the moss within each den…

The towering stalks of grain we've grown, the labor of our men,

And every mother's face, to see her children home again…

And every mother's face, to see her children home…again…

The last whispered note faded into the night… lost to middle earth as it had been since the fall of the ring lords lands. Unheard by all but the one who had sung it, and marked in passage only by tears… tears that trailed down the forgotten face in its wake.

… … … …

Two horses galloped over the fields toward the great city as dawn broke and the first lights touched the citadel. Gimli spurred the his horse harder, behind him the prince of Mirkwood lay still, the only sign he lived the soft breaths that came from between slightly parted lips. Behind them lead by a lead reign tied to the first beasts saddle, Legolas's horse carried another form. This one also unmoving, and tied to the horses back with the shredded remnants of a travel cloak. The dwarf paid no head to the impossible distance he had covered in one day, having given up completely at trying to make sense of anything by this point. (Ringwraiths coming back from the dead, getting impossibly lost in the Misty Mountains, getting from being impossibly lost in the Misty Mountains to Minas Tirith in a meager day, oh yes, the Valar's having fun with us!)

The gates opened, sleepy guards letting the rider and other enter into the first ring. Most recognized the dwarf, and none seemed eager to start a conflict at this hour of the morning. Up and up and up… and higher still, the beasts wheezing from the long trek and now the unending upward spiral, finally stopping before the white tree with shaking legs. And sprawled against the trees trunk, another figure in gray regarded the dwarf with curiosity. He watched Gimli (…I know that face… that is the one, the loud one that my fellbeast had flown with… I know that dwarf…) unload his horse first, lowering the figure to the ground before running up and raising hell upon the front door. Swiftly a guard answered and the prone form was carried inside. Gimli remained by the horses, seemingly unsure of what to do with the other… (Khamul!!)

Indur leapt to his feet, drawing a blade from his sheath. The Dwarf stared at him for a moment, and an expression of disbelief swept his features. "Oh by the…" the dwarf didn't finish, Indur had already sprung and forced the smaller warrior to flee. For a moment Indur stood impassive, than sheathed the blade and moved beside his companion, ripping free the tethers that held him to the beasts back. The horse started, not liking the Ringwraiths smell, and attempted to rear before Indur grabbed it by the head and touched its will with his own. Be still!! Hold under my hand!! The animal's eyes rolled in fear, but held still. Indur bent, panting from the strain. (Our power is depleted so easily now… I never knew… so much of our strength was our rings…)

Freed, the other fell heavily to the ground, letting out a low hiss as he hit. His eyes opened, weakly meeting Indur's, then he gave a shudder from deep within and grew still, his eyes rolling back and closing. (So he too learned the hard way… I felt the Black Breath on the elf; you impulsive fool… you were always an impulsive fool…) a feeling of worry settled into his stomach, (there are only two of us now… if what the white wizard says is true, than we are our fellow brethrens only hope… you fool… risking everything…) There came a great clatter from the door, several guards rushed out followed by the king, dwarf and steward. Ji Indur shrieked a fell cry, warning the mortals to come no closer. They did not heed, several moving between himself and Khamul allowing others to attempt to pull him away. Laser blue flashed fiery red, a frost coated the forms of all those near, the blade came free, cold steel making a crackling sound as it hit the air.

Instantly another blade met his, than another! Both king and steward met his gaze with fierce intensity in their faces; a battle hunger had already taken over Aragorn's mind, readying him to spill blood. Faramir yelled over the arctic wind that had risen about them for surrender, and the orbs of the wraith burned black. A sudden crackle of power split the wind, the freeze dispersing as swiftly as it had come about. Gandalf lowered his staff, content that he had gained all attention. "If you would all cease what you are doing! Thank you! Aragorn, Faramir, back away and let him calm himself, and Gimli, stop trying to slay Khamul! The dwarf looked up sullenly, his beard bristling. Indur looked from the exasperated wizard, to the bristling dwarf, to the exasperated wizard, back again…

(I am surrounded by fools and madmen…) a dark chuckle grew in the back of his throat before he could suppress it, and taking advantage of the situation he moved over, threw Khamul's limp form over his shoulder, turned, and headed out of the city and up into the mountain it rested upon. Instantly Aragorn moved to set after him but Faramir held him still. "Peace Aragorn! We must tend to Legolas first, and worry about the Wraiths after!" Aragorn whirled on him, pulling his hand free and moving off after the grey forms. "Aragorn!" The king grew still, for the wizards voice held a tone that said he would not be ignored. "Peace, Faramir is right, we must think of Legolas, though I am pleased to say the Black breath seems to be loosing its hold on him. Let them go Aragorn, best to let them work things back into order between themselves before we make another move."

Aragorn sheathed his blade and strode past Gandalf into the hall without so much as a glance. Faramir sighed, his own blade vanishing into its scabbard. "Forgive him Gandalf… he has his family and his people at heart." The wizard nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "Perhaps… ignore me Faramir, but to these eyes he seems a man scorned from a long held desire… I fear the Witch King did more damage than even he may realize…"

… …. …. ….

From one of the upper windows Eldarion watched all this with excited eyes, "Now's my chance! I'll finally get to be a good soldier!" Swiftly and silently the young heir to the throne of Gondor threw on his good breaches and tunic and placed his small dagger on his belt. Then vanished down the stairs, threw the great kitchen, and out into the night…